Always beating, never missing a step. A rhythm unlike any other, unmoved by the weight of oppression, rage, hatred, fueled by the natural order. The cycle, the wheel, must not be broken. I sing, a singer of new songs every time you are born, to rejoice in your works, to be present in your flesh, your body of water. Your feet, are my feet. Your walk, my foundation.
Your sacrifice, my privilege. Though these jangles are new and growing and dying each day, I am your clay. The honesty of breath — breath gifted to me by the same unseen hands that sculpted you. The great design to forego and withstand all. I carry your heart with me, that I may bring your work to glory, that I may pass on as I pass through the cycle — instruments to teach with, tools to share with, build with, intelligence to survive with, for the cycle. My heartbeat is your work, is you.
I carry your heart with me. You, who are my tribe. You who are my ancestor. You who are my people. | LH
What a deep, thoughtful piece. Moving.