No signal
Stumbled or stressing I've learned some valuable lessons of loving women that left me; & fallen love from the heavens, I'm scraping up minor blessings just waiting on God to text me - I'm tripping.
I ain't got a signal so how could I see the message? Barren with all my goals He fore'seed' it; why won't he plant me? Planted right off the pivot then sold some time to an angel the angle was that I'm missing fruition all in my basket with fruits of my labour endless just pray it's not too pretentious, friends hit my phone up on FaceTime concerned and asked if I'm breathing.. Shit, I've been distant I'm leaving, just pray that there's growth in Cali got calluses, from the digging & dodging all of the doubting that manifests with my changes I hope that you don't forget me.
Spoke on all of the difference of Pasadena and Peachtree and how Atlanta could eat me if I don't pack up and go. Felt I've exhausted this city, like thoughts I wrote about "gold" and all the "worth" in my soul, I can see I say that alot...
Wondering will it rain I've pursued it; all of it's useless, just pondering plenty pedals through puddles all of my uses & I used to be driving around in my Focus, just trying to focus, Ecclesiastes - I'm hopeless; I read it and got a word....
Pray I live to see farther than peaceful nights with a daughter I hope will look like my mama if joyful could just remember me.
patient and purposeful yet I'm anxious (Lordie the irony), iron out all my wrinkles for flights I missed in the summer and calls I ignored from Mama; I tripped and stumbled on bullshit. Hallelujahs through pen-pals. Lost my balance in pulpits. Dreaming of gold, then dozed off; Jesus, will I be getting paid? clumsy women stumbled & dropped my heart till I walked away used some Tide for my spirit, I know that He'll lift His broken child. Nappy but I'm golden now, hoping I got it right.
Solace could be some solitude, thoughts I bottled at night, but I hope I let go of fear and continue to love myself..
Like "Everything is everything".
Like teams that "bring your playbook"-ed me, like track thirteen from Lauryn Hill....
Like boards I nailed in arks I built..
Like storms that came when friends would dip and combs would break when napps would grow.
got damn I had to cut my fro...
When boards would creak up out the floor and I'd get down and nail some more.
And I'd get down and nail some more. Then leaks came in and…..
And all that poured in was His grace.