March in the City

He leaves me notes in the texts of open books.

So I show him poetry with my responses to his looks.

With a midnight meditation of blue ink in white spaces

imagining the possibilities of the endless places

I can find and mark mine along his body upon the discovered evidence of starlit traces.

No, this poem is not about him… per say.

Because letting go is a primitive right of passage

letting go of control .. letting go of the ego that just inserted your name into this poem.

Letting go of what needs to be released.

Upon the release of expectation, you receive the most of what you’ve been holding onto while simultaneously rejecting

No, this journey is not about you.. per say.

It is about the notes he leaves.

Because he knows that leaving is staying, and truth is in knowing, silence is speaking and seeds get left alone to start growing.

This poem is about the signs and the arrows, the provision of the sparrow.

It is about the gratitude in her wings, in the winds that twirl in flight when she decides to sing.

The poem is not always… about the pharaoh.

It’s about the endless list of judgmental notes on his dresser.

Which tell me, he spends way too much analyzing my tendencies rather than appreciating my intention

And tell me, he is a lifelong drill sergeant seeking to elevate his legacy..

But never nurtures… the woman, a man should know that in order to make her more of woman..

his touch is a necessity.

A man’s intentions can be penetrated, deeper than his criticism, call it positive reinforcement, yes .. please reinforce plentifully.

#positivereinforcement #morebeeswithhoney #projecttheman #makethewoman


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