lightly, taking in everything
taking it slow, not for granted
breathe lemongrass, sunlight, sweat
mixed together, like a Southern Comfort without the whiskey
like sweet iced tea, rocking back and forth
in the wrinkled hands of a quiet soul
sitting in a chair on the back porch
staring out into the green abyss
of a plantation
high-pitched chirps from the crickets
blended with the eerie whispers of the spirits
background noise, the melody of a slave song
fresh from the brown dirt, soaked in the red blood
of a Black kingdom

Photo provided by: unsplash-logoGuilherme Stecanella

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