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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