where we are from,
peace and happiness surround us like
the winds of september,
and leave us like the fumes of fruit pies and cornbread swinging out the screen door on sundays.
my thoughts tease me at sunset.

our dreams and ideas of the world rest at the back door,
while accents thick like molasses seep deep into the ears of those who will listen.
the souls that held us back and told us we “can’t” reminded us of the nights we loved,
the nights we shared.
magnolia and honeysuckle scents were the memory of our homecoming.
when we raised our heads to the heavens, we saw beauty more inviting than worldly beauty.
we saw youth.
realization that youth is temporary,
but life with the father is eternal.
finding self-love, self-respect, and learning our gold is more precious than diamonds,
and the swing of our hips should be just as smooth as the escape of every word we speak.
the idea of love is somehow richer than love,
and we risk our mind for our heart, obliterating moral cause for the masked lover that disguises admiration so well.
saxophones and hymn humming
don’t mean we’re neither blue nor blessed.
blowing kisses to strangers praying they’ll catch ‘em ain’t hope.
we turn frowns into smiles, cornrows into tiaras, brown skin into beauty, knowledge into truth,
and our land into our playground.
stealing our dreams from the backdoor.
we lay them on the riverbank watching the ones that didn’t make it, shine down on us in the night sky, shimmering over the waters, reflecting the message that we will be okay.