quilt

 

 

 

 

 

On Happy Days
my hair is not nappy
I have more than I owe
and tomorrow I know
I will be building pyramids

On sad days,
I remember
that my place in Heaven is rented
and the currency demanded
is not the yen or dollar,
But my essence.

This will be
the prologue to my death
unless I find the missing fabrics
Of my soul
and weave them into a quilt
of my own design.

This poem appears in the anthology Quiet Storm: Voices of Young Black Poets (Hyperion Books 1999).

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2 thoughts on “Quilted Soul

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