Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The Stubborn Principles of Belief
In things. I
Believe in Autumn
The green leaves turn rust
And orange out of Summer's fatigue.
Sound petering from
Coltrane’s hHorn ... Can heal
Most anyone’s failing rhythms. I believe
You can can feel chord changes on your skin,
Like a baby’s breath... or a sudden shift in wind.
Is music, you see?
I believe that this rhythm
Of my heartbeat is made by
A playfully insistent God.
Just a little,
In everyone's gods
And even more in the passion
With which people praise them.
Of God to be inherent in
The sound of children's laughter,
When it’s free. I believe that sex and
Laughter creates its own rapturous music.
I believe that my breath makes these minuscule
Sparks... and then ... flames... when I’m singing.
That without music,
Life would be a profound mistake.
That Angels, Spirits
And Deities make soothing
Sounds. They gather around in
Cliques, speak in whispering tongues
And they insist on traveling with me...
And at night, I hear then quaking, fluttering
Like flights and flocks of feeding birds.
Of my words, and
Deeds can sweep and move
Across the terrain of souls and beings I’ll never know.
That to read
A poem is to weave
And sew the tapestry of your own
Infinite reality... and inside the mirror of
Words, you can discover your own affinity.
Being is a singer, singing
Its own unique solo, and every
Heart... is... a... drummer... which
Bangs, and clangs and sounds in an echo
Forever, and ever and ever in the Universe.
In this as much
As the richness of my
Own Manifestos. I believe
So religiously in collecting
And keeping and giving back.
I believe less in fables, and more
In the stories of my actions. I believe
For each of my beautiful mistakes, for
Each of my most gorgeous of failures, there
Lies within.... a d e e p e r l e s s o n.
Even harder in
The sweetness of
Aspirations. I believe in
The strength and the willfulness
To succeed, even in the ignored
And weakened spines of Black men like me.
Wet with sweat. I believe
In Kingdoms, in Karma , and distance.
A believer in Things.
Maybe I'm a Hopeless romantic, or
Maybe, just a little deranged. I believe
In answers which
Fall or tumble slowly....
Like autumn leaves tumble,
Upon the softest winds of change.