my hands your hands

i was sleeping while you were smiling

i was fat and you were thin and young

we were brown and the sun knew us gently

my ribbon matched your dress

i was fat and you were thin and young

you would be yet thin and young still when you died

my ribbon matched your dress

my hands your hands

yes you will be yet thin and young and gone

when i become the age that you are here

my hands your hands

i would take on the art

when i become the age that you are here

i write and think that means that i can live

i’m taking on the art

you left behind

i write and does it mean that you yet live

brown and gentle in the rising sun

you left us, sleeping

are you smiling now?

(This is dedicated to my beloved godmother Aunt Andie, also known as the great author, journalist and woman of profound faith Andria Hall. She also made the most amazing Sunday breakfasts in the universe. I know that right now she would be making space for compassion and divine love with every word. I also know she is smiling upon the beautiful joyful lives of her children and family. Thank you Aunt Andie. Your life taught me that “angel” was not an idea or a metaphor. Angel is a way of being. The way you be. Eternal love.)

*if you know you know. shout out to Natasha Tretheway.