Quiet Worship

black-art-man-woman-chisel

Something in the black man’s stagger
That way the earth crumbles under his feet
The way his eyes say my soul has seen everything
That big sway in those long arms
The strength of legs built like the roots of an oak
Something inside the black man is on fire
And I am a moth teased by the flame
There is a silence in his spirit that kisses at mines
There is a treble in his voice that makes me blush
I am small next to my man
There is something about the way he stands
That makes me fall

Something in the black woman’s chassis
The means by which I come through
And by which I must find peace
With eyes that search my soul, every fragment every piece
The strength she possesses are as deep rooted as the pyramids of old
That through her soft and supple skin she beholds kings and queens
That when her tears do fall, my spirit is moved
 And it’s with that peace that it kisses at hers
There is a stupor in her voice that dragoons me drunk
She’s the jewels in my crown
For without her I do not glow
And what is a king without his queen?

-Nina Austin & Smyekh David-West.

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