"A Journey in this Complicated and Constant-Going Maze"-Tina-: March's Blues

"A Journey in this Complicated and Constant-Going Maze"-Tina-: March's Blues: Painting Created by Tina                                                                                ...

Winter's Summer

The winter's moon rests
and cradles summer's poetry
in rail cars,
as the locomotive's
rhythmic lines
converse and whistle
rattled truths
in the moonlight's breeze.
Success.
Snaps and chirps swell
grassy arenas
and the tracks clap
for the moonlight's poem.

Fri-Sun-Day

It is syrup smothered salmon cakes
buttered biscuits and cheese grits day.
Onions, molasses, and the catch of yesterday's breeze
lay on the ceiling.
Brown sweet drink spread over ice crumbs
that fill to my preferred pink cup's rim.
Elixir is a strange healing
for any ailment or noninfirmity.
This hour a particular feeling,
radiant fried salmon cakes
perfectly placed.

Legacy

I am my ancestors' dream.
My kinks and curls adorn
with their 400 years prayer-
my crown.
I am their screams and cries adorn
with their golden intellect-
my gown.
My heart covered with their blood-spilled strength-
my shield.
My feet covered with their black-lace slippers-
their prophecy.
So here I stand-
taking care of my ancestors' legacy.

"Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and hope..."-Dr. Maya Angelou 

Expression's Zeal

That house's pompous walls finally
fell.
I grew weary of its persistent
babble about nothing.
So I silently screamed.

Brick, concrete, and wood
crumbled on mulch-covered land.
They changed into
that mucky, flavorless drink.
They evaporated in my Creator's domain.
Because my blood,
my blood displayed
how to use my noiseless will
to demolish all dull enclosures-
those impenetrable and bland walls.

Journey

Tonight is her day.
Her foes want her to sit
in winter's shadow.

To their dismay, the snow melts
and the icicles no longer
spill from above.

Today,
bright and bless with
orange, yellow, and red lights;
she stands with the sunflowers.

March's Blues

Painting Created by Tina

                                                                      
            

            Timothy looks through the kitchen's bay window and watches a red sedan crawling along his dirt driveway. He dashes out  the screen door and stands and waits on his front porch. As he lowers his head, he attempts to look through the windshield of the car as it drives closer. He smiles because he recognizes the silhouette of a small head covered with long locs.

            “March!” Timothy waves his hand.

            A young woman with dark-brown skin smiles as she stops and parks the vehicle.

            “Dad!” She swings open the door.

            “You were supposed to be here tomorrow! What are you doing here?” Timothy embraces his daughter.

            “I just want to hang out with you and Mom today before everyone else comes.”

            Timothy scans his baby girl. She is especially picturesque today but she is a little too slender.  Her apparel: a cotton, knee-length yellow sundress and maroon wedge heels agrees well with her black locs that drape along her face. However, her wide eyes seem full of worry.

              “You look hungry. Your mama cooked yesterday. We still have some greens, corn bread, roasted chicken, and sweet potato pie.  Come in the house and I'll heat you some.”

            “OK.” His daughter laughs. “Let me get my luggage.”

            “Don't you worry about that. Pop the trunk. I get them. Go on in the house and relax. I know how long that drive can be.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yes. Go on now.”

            March nods her head. She knows which battles to fight with her father and this battle is not the one.   She knows that her attempts to get her own luggage will lead to her and her father standing in the driveway throughout the day and night. So reluctantly, she reopens the car and retrieves her handbag that sits on the passenger seat and she clicks her key's remote button toward the trunk and she walks up to the front porch into the house.

            March sighs and grins as she walks in the front door. She looks at the kitchen walls. Her father and mother never updated the gray-flower wall paper that occupies the whole house since the 1989 death of her great grandmother, who owned the house previously before her parents. She saunters to the next room, the living room and then strolls through a narrow hallway which leads to stairs.

            March peers up the stairway. “Mom?”

            “She is not here. She had some errands to run.” Her father rolls a leopard print luggage behind him as he walks closer to March.

            “Oh. OK.” She nods her head and bites her lip.

            “I'm gonna put this bag in your room. Then I am gonna fix your lunch. Alright?”

            “OK. Dad.”

            “You wanna watch some TV?”

            “No. I'll go back to the kitchen.”

            “Are you alright?” Timothy squints his eyes and stares at her frame.

            “I'm fine.” March turns around and walks back to the kitchen.

            Inside the kitchen, she drops her purse on a nearby counter and she pulls out a blue cushioned stool from the breakfast plateau and sits in the seat. She looks through the wide window, which is placed in front of the stove. She notices that the sun is fighting its way through the clouds. She takes in a deep breath because she remembers the sixty percent rain forecast for today during her morning drive. March stares at the window ledge's contents: four jars fill with jalapenos. She is for certain that the peppers derive from her mother's garden.

            March smiles to herself because she  hears her mother's voice repeating the  lesson about the pepper plants being late bloomers.

Painting Created by Tina

            “Well. Let's get started.” March slightly jumps at the sound of her father's voice. “Let's see. I think there is some sweet tea in here. Yep... there is.” Timothy pulls a half-full glass pitcher of sweet tea and lemons from the refrigerator and pours the liquid into a glass. He offers the container to his daughter.

            “Thanks.” His daughter reaches out and grabs the glass.

            “You are welcome.” Timothy looks at March from the corner of his eyes. Then he walks back to the refrigerator to take out the expected meal. “You didn't tell me yet. Did you get accepted?”

            March sips her beverage and swallows. “Yes. I start courses in August.”

            “I'm so proud of you. That is smart to use part of your inheritance to invest in yourself. Do you need any help for your rent?” Timothy carefully places each dish on the counter.

            “Thanks. I don't need help. I used some of the inheritance to pay my rent ahead for three years. I put the rest in savings.”

            “What about your utility bill, grocery expenses, and other stuff?” Timothy washes his hands.

            “I might need help with those expenses.” March admits.

            “No shame in that. We will help you. I am so proud of you.” Her father dries his hands with a nearby blue dish towel.

            “It was nice of Grandpa to remember me. You know what? Maybe I should of bought another car instead of going to college.” March's hands cup the glass.

            Timothy pulls a tablespoon from the utensils drawer. “Can you go get my bible from the end table by the door?”

            “Sure.” March mopes to the small, light green wooden table that sits next to the screen entrance. She picks up the thick white hard cover Book from the top part of the table.

            “It is time for my daily devotion. Turn to II Corinthians, chapter ten, verses twelve through thirteen and read it to me.” Timothy searches and clamors through the cabinets for a tin pan. He always believed that even leftovers deserve more respect than to be reheated by a microwave. Good food comes from a stove or an oven.

            March sighs once more as she sits in her seat. She turns the pages of the Bible. Then she looks at her father as he places each portion of food cautiously in the tin plate.

            “You ready?” March asks.

            Timothy nods. He is now concentrating on turning the oven's dial to the correct temperature.

            “OK. For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves: but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise. But we will not boast of things without our measure, but according to the measure of the rule which God hath distributed to us, a measure to reach even unto you.” March looks up from the bible.

            Her father is now looking through the window. While March read, Timothy completed the task of placing her lunch into the oven.

            Timothy turns around and faces March. He sighs. “Do you know that I have no regrets?”

            “Really? None?” March's eyebrows raise.

            “None. Cause I took each day as a step...step by step.” Timothy uses his right hand to imitate steps. He continues. “You will go crazy if you try to create your own blessings on someone else timetable. And you are crazy to reject blessings because you didn't received them the time that you wanted them. I know you heard this story so many times. But I think you need to hear it again. I was forty and your mother was thirty-nine when we got married. And before we got married, your mother and I courted for a year. Your mother just graduated from college with her bachelor's in arts degree and I just got promoted as store manager. You came into this world when your mother was forty-five years of age and I was forty-six years old. What a blessing.”

            March head hangs low, as if she is contemplating in a deep thought. “Yes. But you and Mom didn't need any help especially...”

             Timothy interrupted. “So what you don't have a bachelor's degree and a career by 21 years old. So what you are single. The good news is now. You have a rare gift. You are able to pay for college out of pocket, debt free. Your parents and extended family loves you. Your rent is paid...for three years. You have job and life experiences in your back pocket. Look at all of those blessings!”

            March nods.

            “If you keep thinking about the things you don't have you will never enjoy the things that you do have. And you will regret about the time wasted on worrying about frivolous matters. Keep working. You will get there. Trust me. And appreciate today.”

            March pulls herself from the stool and walks around the plateau. She stretches her arms out and reaches for her father. “Thank you Daddy for your encouragement.”

            Timothy pulls his daughter closer and hugs her. “Happy early thirtieth birthday Beloved.”

            “Thank you Dad.” March continues her hug. “Thank you.”

            The sun's rays beam through the window and the clouds vanish from the sky.

Painting Created by Tina