It is not just
the rain /no there is too much
magic in this day
flowers unfold their throats
to the sky & the air is splattered
with the scent of green & not just rain
no/ them hussy clouds sashayed over
spilling their bosoms in the face of the sun
& he split leaving a hole
where a sunset could be
and the quiet storm just a melody in smokey’s head
or a mythical place on a radio dial that wish
it was real as the dance of liquid
time steps glidin across my roof,
testifyin to recordlevels of hoodoo going down
on a day when the sun got hisself seduced
out the sky
obatala woke me before dawn
cut away sleep fro my eye
leaving a flood of stars in my mouth
& my mind sharp as a blade,
senses humming like a river of lights,
limbs divining trembling tributaries to the past
& I can see forever between raindrops
& there is mystery
even in the absence of the moon
whitefolks looking at me strange & only a limited number
of colored will admit their complexity
with the magic present here, in this day
but i am the one wet with words
& even the jars i put around my bed to catch
all the poems fallin through the cracks
in my roof, can’t contain the colors,
nascent & shimmering, like new music,
fallin & spinnin & getting caught up
in my hair & on my skin & everywhere i look
it is there out here
floatin too much magic
out here in this day…..
Reference:
Harriet Jacobs
