Ground Level

Get anything out of life,

You have to put it back into the ground for it to grow,

We dug our love out of dirt,

The solid earth beneath our feet,

And we planted love back by being fruitful in our union,

While you sleep at night,

I am awake,

Dreaming for the both of us,

Pray-Praying our seeds grow,

So we can harvest and take to sell,

In the land my fathers are tillers of,

I keep watch over you here with me,

You have no blood here,

Sometimes I put my palm to your forehead,

Because everyone needs a laying on hands,

The act is biblically rooted tradition, Symbolizing a spiritual transaction,

A healing,

I know it is not scientific,

But psychologically speaking,

It saves a poor man’s soul.

Being near my folks,

And away from yours,

I appreciate everything you do for my mother,

How you answer the phone for her,

Days when I do not want to be bothered with anyone but you.

I lie awake writing,

Hoping one day like all good artists,

You will promote my recordings in the garden,

Think it over,

And come to love like I have loved,

That’s the why I feel about you,

I had to run away,

Attempted to find where my father went wrong,

The mind of a poor child,

I was afraid when we moved back to my hometown,

Of being poor forever,

Like the colored man in my closet.

I smiled and played along,

To make your day brighter,

While I wrote down my plans to escape at night,

The next time you’ll see me,

I hope I will come back with silver and gold,

A crown and power.

But often the fate of my people who were revolutionary thinkers,

Story ends in tales told by witnesses who saw them last hanging from a tree,

For decades later we come across their story,

Learning to appreciate their sacrifice as they have been put back into the ground,

Like a seed,

They produce fruit,

A change from one state of being to another.

Truth is I adore my household,

I like the quietness,

And the way we find common comfort,

But I’m afraid that when the boat arrives,

And it is my turn to overthrow the captain,

I will fail my kin,

Lying with you at night too comfortable to move.

You’ll silence my alarm to let me oversleep,

Hoping I will miss the boat,

Potentially saving me,

From life in prison,

Or a sentencing to death.

That is why I sit up awake,

I have a love that wants me to do good,

I have a love that do not know the good that comes from rebellion,

Spirits in the dark all over our shack,

My ancestors coming in like the wind through the cracks,

Anointing my forehead with baobab oil,

And laying hands on me,

In life and death that is enough,

To be whole for this journey that may not end well.

Before the oil dries,

I take some of what I have,

And put it onto you while you sleep,

Because you are my family.

You won’t be alone,

If I obtain lawless land and finally send for you,

You won’t be alone,

If If you have to claim my body,

And untie lifeless from a rope,

I hope one day like all good artists,

You will promote my recordings in the garden,

Think it over,

And come to