I am here
Harry Belafonte library
he got his start, here in Harlem
he was broke like me but he didn't settle
he said I'll just go around to clubs and sing
he didn't quit in his dream
yes he had no kids and no after school pickup I'm sure
but he was brave, brave like me
and I'm here in his library
how I hope I have a legacy like this,
big enough where buildings will be named after me
but one can only hope
dreams are supposed to be scary, not to the undertaker.
but to the ones receiving it.
You are brave, a little voice says,
as I walk the streets to this library
You are starting over at 40
I never saw it that way,
quitting was never an option
survival was like the breath in my lungs, begging me to keep going
and the hope, the never-ending hope,
like the light that keeps the candle burning
God I keep thinking of the date. there is no time and date yet.
But why am I so excited? I picture myself walking in with a white dress, skintight
and some boots, probably my grey boots
and my purse around me
and my hair long and straight
and i picture us having nothing to say
and me being okay with that, or at least, trying to be okay with that.
The I'm not going away thing is real.
I have been so scared of being abandoned. I didn't consider easy it is for me to abandon.
It's so interesting how it works out with wounds, huh?
Tio Dennis reached out to me that year. he complaining about trauma and how his family
always treated him. I was sad he had to go though that.
He was always my favorite uncle. in Georgia, I saw his limitations.
but kid-like me will always see him big and laughing and just having a big heart,
big enough to hold the world someday.
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