Dr. Welsing…You too shaped me

francescresswelsingpic

I’ll listen for you in summer seashells
Maybe the small ones with cracked corners
from adult play of wave jumping

Slide cups alongside walls anticipating your
metered tone that started slow
but always stirred brown gravy right with potatoes
or mashed breath

Just Return.

My path hasn’t fit my shoes since
You labeled my questions of “why” as
Brilliance.

Since you encouraged my genetic pool
be developed 2nd to none
My broad back makes swimming easy
it’s the walking with familiar faces with forced tongues and
foreign feelings of living that’s hard

And you promised you’d never rest until
“black children are taught to love themselves as themselves”

Well… we still dance around the pain
And sing above the screams
And get high above the clouds
And fall below the bedrock
And you left like all the rest
without a formal goodbye or wave of the scarf
while the system is still electric with
hidden hands and privileged referees

Just Return.

for one more cooking lesson and hands in the dish water
and a soothing stare to still these fears
of polishing your legacy with highly functional thinking

toothbrush details of the Isis Papers and Keys to the Colors

Dr. Welsing   Mother Frances

We   We   We    stumble with this
stutter with the thought of your walk
to have your heart weighed to a feather

cause you promised you’d never rest until
“black children are taught to love themselves as themselves”

so I suppose…as long as the system maintains
itself against the thread of our fabric

You are here    

I’ll listen for you through my cups on the wall
and inside summer seashells with cracked corners.

  • For Dr. Frances Cress Welsing, 1/3/16

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