In the shadows of her footsteps,
Mine are the hands sweeping away debris in the paths she hasn’t took yet.
I’m existing as her platform, appointed for suspension,
Allowing her to infinitely stand tall for boisterous pirouetting,
Without her care or worry. I was there in the midst,
When every suitor dared to dismiss her. I’d stare as she kissed them,
Then moved stealthily behind the veil of her vision,
Into her subconscious where “He’s not the right male.” I would whisper.
Her name’s Amy…..the sun spites me astounded,
Because as my center, since she was born I’ve run cycles around her.
A divine right of power fuses my motives,
She’s not stupid, she’s known the supernatural confuses her notions.
But all she can rely on is the clue in the voice of,
An old black man who tells her what to do when she’s coasting.
An old black man who’s purpose was blurred, figuring,
He’d cause a tug at her neck, when she heard the word “n-gger”…
and I roam the dark as a stranger,
Making sure she’s hardly in danger,
It’s my job to encase her heart...
…I’m her guardian angel…” ,
This was another day in the city,
Where daily she’d drip liquid to make her daisies look pretty.
But her ritual was paused by an off phrase in the distance.
She heard “Whatchu saying though, n-gger?!?”, and saw the flailing of fists.
The mere use of the word made her brace in an instant.
She kneeled in pain as I gazed up from the pavement to glimpse at,
What never changed as she aged in existence:
Red hair draping the freckles that kept her face’s radiance hidden.
The tears would drain as she felt searing flames in her neck,
Which was my vainest attempt from the grave to gain their respect
...For MY people…
My spirit blacked that moment & I was catapulted,
To a familiar scene I experienced before I ever had this omen.
It seems my anger’s broken the masterful pact that formed and,
a transparent force took me back to the past to show me,
A night where taps echoed in the church that I pastored. Lonely,
I walked to the banging doors to nervously answer only,
To feel an object strike me in the temple. I poured,
Blood immediately before I feebly fell to the floor.
When I came to, I saw six men in a certain attire:
White gowns and pointed hats and my church was on fire.
Then I heard, “Shane, fetch the rope from the truck”
And from his slow movement you could tell this boy was reluctant,
To get what he was chased for, but he hesitantly paced,
from the Chevy. He misplaced his hat & I saw the freckles on his face,
And his red hair that was tapered. Then I watched the sky as it opened,
To greet me from the vine that would choke me as I died from a rope,
And I Remembered........
In the dark I would dangle,
Shane'd have a daughter that day,
& my job’d be to encase her heart...
…as Amy’s guardian angel…”
ill get my links..............
