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Black Students for Revolution

July 21, 2019

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July 21, 2019

 

I find my balance at the back of Your neck

more specifically, at the clasp that prevents Your gold chain from slipping

without You, My tree pose would waver and we’d all yell timber

 

I find my footing at the breadth of Your shoulders

 the same ones that bear the weight of all the crosses You’ve been compelled to carry 

You let me rest there sometimes too

 

You meet mobility at the tips of My fingers

all the better for You to connect with 

at Your worst You find Yourself stuck

out of touch 

out of reach

I bring You back and propel You forward all the same

 

seek sanctity in the movements of My lips

only ever honest with You

converse wholly

I’d never leave out the truth

so You christen me holy

 virtue, sincere, Yours 

 

believe beauty is in the way You navigate Your course 

I call You shapeshifter, mold maker, master of maneuvering

 

the peak of My peace lies at the junction of what if and what is

My fantasy God realized you perfect for me 

and I for You

as if We were crafted for the soul purpose of complementing the other

 

 

 

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