Parks - Eyes with winged thoughts: poems and photographs

For captive and countless hours, I stood there, speechless, petrified and piously awed watching white wind curl up through darkness. Providence had all but given up on me. Then Time smiled, touched my shoulder, and told me things Id never heard before. Now and then certain wonders of the universe descend carefully from the Makers hands and, one by one, fall into a chosen space to blot out emptiness. Obviously, Time hadnt reckoned with those blind hours, storms, fires and cinders that rained on my existence. > > > The icy illusion feeding my emptiness beside this moonlit sea was magical.

But more wondrous was my survival. It had to do with almost everything. Later, in the bluest hours of my dreaming, light fled the moon. The aberration disappeared, leaving me with the injustice of remembering without seeingof touching without feeling. Its absence attacked my slumber like a tiger, tore the night apart with claws of steel. The moon spit fire.

Hours meant for solitude stayed busy, burning the heavens to ashes and smoke. Not until the green hour of dawn finally returned, did I find this glorious aberration had also returned. The malicious Devil had abandoned his knife and fork. God had been staring at him with punishing eyes. I was bewildered, but Time was smiling.

Rivers belched steam. Concrete sidewalks seemed to melt. Birds, hiding beneath the branches, were taking refuge from the heat. Fatigue caught up with my legs, and convinced my feet to take a rest. Where was I? Who was I in this lurid inferno? Recognizing my plight, a sympathetic bench offered respite. It was still accommodating my misery when the poignant moment arrived.

That moment was so weighted with curiosity, nothing could have stopped its flow. An aged woman was passing, lugging two bags. Whatever signified her end was working overtime. Sunken deeply and rigidly into herself, her eyes lingered in the midst of wandering. The rivers of wrinkles had flowed for many years. A pale scalp showed through hair, ripe with whiteness.

But she was smiling! No misleading myself. I bid the kind bench good-bye. She had made it impossible for me to endure my suffering. > > > Following her was akin to crawling backward. After a dozen steps she would stop, blow out the tiredness, then stubbornly move forward again. There was no street that failed to know her nor any sidewalk that didnt expect her.

Her destination wanted no truck with a malicious sun. When she came at last to a grimy alley, and disappeared into its darkness, I stopped. The entire world stopped. In the huge silence that followed, the heavens opened. Rain came plummeting down! Bolts of coolness rushed in! Schools of joyful birds took flight! Suddenly I felt my legs, smiling. My feet hurried toward home.

The sun had given upwithdrawn its anger. The courageous lady had conquered its wrath. And no sweeter time has touched my universe. I cant stop wondering about that smile she wore. It was still there when the darkness swallowed her Still dreaming, still full of secrets. Obviously it had been her friend for a long time.

One thing for sure. Nothing will erase her smile from my memory.

You keep everybody awake. Pig feet, turnip greens and chitlins put hair on the chest. My stomach craved apple butter and crackling bread. It had a mind of its own. It wasnt looking for hair. Sunday school was particularly necessary, but not enough.

Reverend Frockcoats bland sermons had to sanctify the day. Some other things stood in my way talking too much when I should have listened, crying when laughing was better, shooting marbles when the cattle needed feed. Mommas most relentless warning stuck like claws. Son, dont ever come home blaming your skins blackness for tumbling you downward. If a white boy can do something worth doing, remember, you can do it too. When the time comes just get out there and do itor forget to come home.

Much later, long after she was gone, and swimming in her advice, Ive tried to keep going, going and going. Down through the years, her warnings helped push clouds away while sopping tears from stars that insisted on falling. Yes, it was Momma who spread the checkered tablecloth. But it was my good fortune to sit down and eat. Her love filled the space between heaven and hell. She was a mother beyond all other mothers.