(WHO IS prepared to hold our torch of
By Beverly Jenai
Couldn't sleep last night, as I thought to myself
from China . . . just last week . . .
Tech explosions . . . LIGHTENING EVERYWHERE
pride, seemingly of their exhibits
of Yellow and Maroon red flags
high above the mysterious Wall
the world lit up from Olympic beams
holding gigantic orange filled torches
hanging from every horizon within our view . . .
appearing as huge candles blowing in Asian winds
flickering amiss diverse star filled skies
what was more apparent than ever . . . was
Technology now prevails...
Analogous thoughts prevailed this night . . . 8/25 2008
asked myself . . .
important is it . . . that the flame in our country . .
passed on, that the torches of our past . . .
pessimistic thoughts mumblings and apathies
digitally recorded instead
that we give way
more enlightened generation taking over our country
even crisscrossed computers . . . and complex Blackberry
to be causing us such daunting concerns
lil' cinnamon girl
bouncing brown curls said
twisting with excitement
to stand still
certainly, unlike her sister
was intent to stare straight ahead in amazement
inched closer and closer
technological screen displayed before her eyes
sure she must have wondered
could her Daddy . . . how could he be . . . roughly 50
ft. in height
can he be so huge?
can he be so tall?
were all those trillions of digital dots . . . coming
Transforming . . . transferring her Dad in such an
my attention diverted again
youngest of sisters
this lil' cinnamon child shouts out . . .
Daddy!! Hi Daddy!!
seemingly oblivious to a 75,000 in crowd
that huge conventional hall
simultaneously. . .but firmly grips hands
tall statuesque mahogany woman
protectively standing next to her side
deeply in-grained woman it would appear
look'n woman . . . my grandmother would say
highly polished amber shines
a smudge anywhere to be seen..
even through her textures,
colors, so to speak, were mesmerizing
frowned a bit
the whispers of low branched weeping willows surfaced
they began to take over my thoughts
pictures of historically untangled ropes swung back and
in the rewinds of my mind's eye.
found myself joining others on display
tears began cascading down my face . . . as my makeup
began to transform
thoughts of handed down stories swirled in my mind
howlings . . . the howlings of the Hound dogs...
passing's . . . heavy chains . . . torches
in darkness . . . unplanned passages
hummings of "Precious Lord . . . hold my hand . .
." thus recorded thus heard
magnolia scents of stagnant brown waters . . .
and the sounds of sage green splashing waters
indigo bodies falling within
the air I was breathing . . .
suddenly became filled with smoldered gray smells of gunsmoke
cigarette butt balconies, Kennedy's head and firings . .
triggered by an assassins ignorant hands
myself sniff'n smoke . . . riots from my ole'
neighborhood. 12th st.
then I smiled . . . remembering...
over time . . . what's most relative
what's most important . . .
those crossings . . . those crossings towards freedom
knew . . . that's what I was seeing right now!
refocusing tonight . . . 8/25/08 . . .
that before me . . . on my screen . . .
a little cinnamon child
bouncing brown curls
she's standing confidently and proudly
the stage of the Democratic Convention Hall floor
Shouting . . .
. . . Daddy !!!
are you now??
day . . .
not tonight . . . surely she will really know.
Bev Jenai/bev myers /