My moods can shift like sweet sea water
or a hot brisk breeze at noontime.
One moment I weep reading an ancestral poem
by Lucille Clifton
as she names her slavery story,
the next I’m brimming overfilled
as hope and fear spill forth,
from this well dug deep, unstill.
I write down these words to register my life
as slowly surely a little more learning
to love the present,
no matter what
no matter what,
makes its place inside me.
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