I met her in Liemert park somewhere
between the sunset and an african drum fest.
The sky was our ceiling, spoken word
our home and spirituality was the
futon we found comfort on; it was the
heartbeat of the people, I guess. Everything
was top shelf, no stress.
Then there she was, standing on Crenshaw
In a sundress, like peace and calm after
civil unrest, separated from the rest, a lost
angel, I guess.
How can I approach her considering the
warrior spirit in me? I didn’t want to earn her
reproach for disrupting her peaceful
spirit, you see?
And it didn’t take much to see that she’d been
doing heavenly, angelically, without the likes of me.
But it seemed like she had this light that shined
just for me so I couldn’t help but wonder if
she was just for me.
She wore her hair like GOD fashioned
for her a crown that spiraled like the
universe but rooting her to the ground;
her skin tone caressed by the sun,
her eyes a lighter shade of brown with a
look in them like she could fall back without
ever losing ground.
Yo! Listen to what I say, when I say
It was ‘ASE’ when I saw her and I would
love to meet the man that called her
I know it sounds thirsty but trust me,
she’s water like some spiritual umbilical,
man, HER presence was gravitational
like earth to water, I was caught up.
© Kesau’c N. Hill
Excerpt from his book Serengeti Noise
About the Author
Kesau’c N. Hill is an ex-gang member who, at the age of sixteen, was convicted of murder and sentenced to serve 15-years to Life in the California Department of Corrections. Fighting became a lifestyle that would accompany the gang world deathstyle. However, he would soon be mentored by an English teacher named John Murphy who saw past his tough guy exterior into something explosively creative.
He introduced him to the art of poetry and the power of the spoken word. He’d use that power to his advantage when his life serving Life became too difficult to bear. By defiantly writing poetry all over his prison cell walls “meaning” and “Passion” was discovered, hope and a sound vision was realized. Quite literally, poetry saved his life.
Visit Kesau’c Hill’s Author Page At www.ctupublishinggroup.com/kesau-c-n.-hill.html