PREFACE

As of late, I have been feeling a lot of the people that we love and that have passed on my heart. The park was opened for Blu last week. This September will be three years since Dudley passed, and one year since Letisha passed. Today in Tamale a close friend of my co-worker did not wake up this morning.

This poem came as all of this has been stirring in my heart. The factors that inspired it are many. I did not publish earlier this week, as I was still editing it and not feeling that it was the right time. Today, when Ramadan came to speak with me about his friend, I showed him the poem. I sat here listening to him queitly read it off of the screen, and the words had relevance beyond my foresight. I pray that it is relevant to you and that it is encouraging.

And so we face the question, 'What is this life?': A stream of priceless moments that come and go with the opportunity to make the most of them. We don't ever know how long each stream will flow for. Sister Saphora said something about people who do wrong to others, saying "they live like they are not going to die one day". Rather, let us live life like the treasure that it is, knowing that the love in our lives and how it touches others lasts. Maya Angelou sang a hymn, "I'm gonna let it shine / oh, this little light of mine / I'm gonna let it shine". She followed these words with a tapestry of stories carefully chosen to illustrate how profoundly far the light that we allow to shine through us reaches; further than we can imagine into people that we didn't know we have touched, and into generations that we didn't get the chance to meet.


TELL ME OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS


Tell me of beautiful things:
Like lips right before they touch.
And getting to know a kiss.
And the softest parts of your skin.

Can we speak of beauty?

This very night I looked at the stars and I saw Leo;
Not because I know what the constellation looks like,
Or because I know where to find it
– I have looked a few times every August for years –
I saw Leo because I could see a lion,
Majestic, made of stars.

















And right now,
I can see the moment that I touched the ocean again.
Five years since the last time.
Not just the moment I saw it,
But the moment that I reached the shore:
Taking a front row seat in the sand,
My heels dug in,
My fingers spread wide open behind my back,
Supporting my lean, titled,
Looking up at the frothy crash of the water,
The frothy spilling of the ocean,
Late afternoon, the sun still up and warm,
All of me smiling in this treasure
That I was led into through a great many steps.















Tell me of beautiful things,
Like your dreams.
Like what keeps you going –
Tel me what it is.

Speak to me
When your crying face
Still damp, still salty
Starts to smile
Because it feels better
After some time of crying.

Bring me to the very instance,
Tell me what it was that allowed you to consider,
That 'this might be for a lifetime'.

Would you be surprised if you saw me crying
On my knees
Hands raised in praise?
Feeling God’s peace,
And crying
Because I don’t understand,
At peace because I know He does,
But crying because I don’t understand
Why she is gone from us?

Do you remember the moment
That Pastor prayed that God receive her spirit
And sunlight broke through the
Thick, thick clouds?

Let me be honest.
I was thinking about so many people's lives
And I wondered why I believe that
One day it will all make sense,
And that it will all turn to good,
And that there is always a way,
And always cause for hope,
That there is always enough,
And that it is never more than we can bear,
When so many stories
Seem to say that it is not always so.


















Let me be honest.
I wondered if it is because
These things have always been true for me:
That in time things come to make sense.
And things turn to good.
And I find that there is a way.
And cause for hope.
Never more than I can bear.
With always, at least, enough.

I say it and I know that I am not alone in this -
Nowhere near alone in this.
But is it always true for everyone?
It makes no sense to me that it wouldn’t be,
But is it my place to say?

That is why I want you to tell me
Of beautiful things:
Like why you keep on trying?
And what kept you going?
And what it took to celebrate
What used to cause you pain?

Bring me to the source of the strength
That allowed you to face
What used to make you run.

I want to look at your heart
Through your eyes
And listen to your soul in your song,
Or in your whisper,
Or in your testimony –
Which is poetry
Beyond form and structure,
Because yours’ are words
That describe something true.