rusty bucket promises


rusty metal framing the sky

some days seem

like the best I ever

had is a rusty bucket

half full of water with

a hole in it on good days

I remember to be grateful

for the bucket  be joy filled

that when I close my eyes

I  always see the sky

jubilant because I found a stone

to stick in the hole & we drink

water all in all

I have learned to be tall

in the face of things that

have every intention of making you

small uphill is ok I got feet

know how to pray with hands moving

been in the rain before know how

to make the sun shine  how to make

my  now better so I can make best

teaspoon in motion eyes on the horizon

feet in  graveyard growing out of yesterday

like a finger pointed skyward

errands for ancestors turned to blessings

I got a teaspoon

a bucket

a stone

dreams older than me

more mountains

on the path

debts to collect

promises to keep

to those who

ate horses to make

sure that

I had a teaspoon

to unearth the stone

to plug the bucket

& the time to chart

the way up out of

no way

over the mountains




About Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD

I create; therefore I am.
This entry was posted in North American African Perspective, The Horse Eaters and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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