What am I without the words swirling around my mind, waiting for a chance to burst forth and explode on paper? I am the essence of the letters that form words and the words that form sentences and the sentences that form paragraphs and the paragraphs that form papers and the papers that form books and the books that transform lives. I am all that exists within the pages, eagerly turned, hungry, desperately reaching for that next word that will give meaning to the why and what. It is breathing, this thing with the pen, can not separate the two, can not separate me, it is the breath of my life.
It rained this afternoon Loud claps of thunder Almost couldn't see the rain For my tears falling down Black Mama Tears too many dying in their sleep on a run at a store too many stopped just walking just working just breathing It rained today And I couldn't see for all the weeping of Black Mamas.