—Poetry by Marchell Dyon, Chicago, IL
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
A BLACK WOMAN’S PRAYER
(For Katie)
Like tattered sails,
She unfolds her hands
Hands full of tears
See her as wind screams through her
See her as she stands,
Her toes tipping over the rock’s edge
She wonders if she falls
Will heavenly hands help her glide over
Life’s many waves?
Hear her as she calls to Heaven
Her voice sharp as rocks
Her spirit full of storms
As seagulls catch hold to her cries
Seagulls call back,
As light slips through like
The clouds pierced with sun
Her prayer has wings now,
She can move on
(For Katie)
Like tattered sails,
She unfolds her hands
Hands full of tears
See her as wind screams through her
See her as she stands,
Her toes tipping over the rock’s edge
She wonders if she falls
Will heavenly hands help her glide over
Life’s many waves?
Hear her as she calls to Heaven
Her voice sharp as rocks
Her spirit full of storms
As seagulls catch hold to her cries
Seagulls call back,
As light slips through like
The clouds pierced with sun
Her prayer has wings now,
She can move on
A BLACK WOMAN’S EQUINOX
(For Katie)
Septembers have always made her sad
The dying of sun and the fall of Apollo
No longer does his brilliance gleam in the sky
No longer are his steeds whipping fire
Through the air
His mighty horses stabled
All are bedded down for the cold
This she knows must be
But she cannot surrender to Autumn
Summer’s flair
She knows she must say
Farewell to the crisp
And burning star
‘Bye bird’s song among the clouds
Goodbye to the trees and its floral crown
She holds her jacket close
Arms cuddling around
Herself for warmth
The wind tries to blow her down
Sharpen is its howl
The wind is a wolf waiting
To devour
Every fleeing moment
For now
Contented to let her fear its growl
While summer sails sweetly out to sea
Leaving her small and alone
Soon
Her soul will struggle out of its bed
A soul suffocated in flannel
She stares past it all
The cars parked
The younger busy with their days
Like their days will last forever
She contemplates winter, that
Long deep slow season
When every word spoken coughs
And smokes in the cold
Every utterance entombed
Bound to silence
And
The once swinging clock of nature
Whines down its time to mere seconds
The door of life once singing closes mute
With frosty hinges and sickle knobs
She feels winter in her bones
The familiar pain of that dark desolate nothing
Soon all cycles of her seasons will be spent
When winter shades ever more
She thinks of this in September
She thinks of this
As she looks out into
Her concrete world and
Sees all she remembers.
(For Katie)
Septembers have always made her sad
The dying of sun and the fall of Apollo
No longer does his brilliance gleam in the sky
No longer are his steeds whipping fire
Through the air
His mighty horses stabled
All are bedded down for the cold
This she knows must be
But she cannot surrender to Autumn
Summer’s flair
She knows she must say
Farewell to the crisp
And burning star
‘Bye bird’s song among the clouds
Goodbye to the trees and its floral crown
She holds her jacket close
Arms cuddling around
Herself for warmth
The wind tries to blow her down
Sharpen is its howl
The wind is a wolf waiting
To devour
Every fleeing moment
For now
Contented to let her fear its growl
While summer sails sweetly out to sea
Leaving her small and alone
Soon
Her soul will struggle out of its bed
A soul suffocated in flannel
She stares past it all
The cars parked
The younger busy with their days
Like their days will last forever
She contemplates winter, that
Long deep slow season
When every word spoken coughs
And smokes in the cold
Every utterance entombed
Bound to silence
And
The once swinging clock of nature
Whines down its time to mere seconds
The door of life once singing closes mute
With frosty hinges and sickle knobs
She feels winter in her bones
The familiar pain of that dark desolate nothing
Soon all cycles of her seasons will be spent
When winter shades ever more
She thinks of this in September
She thinks of this
As she looks out into
Her concrete world and
Sees all she remembers.
A BLACK WOMAN’S SOLACE
(For Katie)
The early gray-blue silence
She dares not touch it
Because it cracks easily
Like an egg
Like a womb flexing
To give birth
Knowing its peace will be disturbed
By given life so noisy
Silence—she dares not touch it
For it’s as pure as air and
As fleeting a thing
As clouds sure of foot
Balanced on a prayer
Awaken any moment
Like butterfly wings
Quickly lifted away.
(For Katie)
The early gray-blue silence
She dares not touch it
Because it cracks easily
Like an egg
Like a womb flexing
To give birth
Knowing its peace will be disturbed
By given life so noisy
Silence—she dares not touch it
For it’s as pure as air and
As fleeting a thing
As clouds sure of foot
Balanced on a prayer
Awaken any moment
Like butterfly wings
Quickly lifted away.
BLISS
(For Katie)
She waits for you with outstretched hands
She welcomes you to her ample embrace
You are weary when you meet again
You’ve walked the dirt road
Flat feet against the gravel and the dust
It matters not how hard the road
It matters not how deep the pain
It matters not how much
Your footprints blood dyes stain
You will make it home
You will make it
To your grandmother’s house made of cherry wood
The scent that arrays
Rising like those cane flowers
Like sunlight gently touches the porch
Where light halos the house
Like fairies’ sparkle
And everything is alive again
Beyond just memory
While bluebirds out on limbs of trees
Sway and sing and greet you back sweetly
The whistled wind drifts
You beyond the wilderness
Beyond life’s pains
You keep moving forward
For the arms of the woman
Who gives you joy
Higher than angels
Higher than the clouds
Her wings invisible
But you know they are there
Wrapped in her cotton wings
Blanketed in her embrace
Warm now, from life so cold
She cradles you back to her
Before your life took its toil
Full are all the feelings joyful cries
You’ve found her again to be cuddled to her heart
And see again the fondness for you in her eyes
In your elder years you’ve missed
Now a babe, again you know only bliss
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.
(For Katie)
She waits for you with outstretched hands
She welcomes you to her ample embrace
You are weary when you meet again
You’ve walked the dirt road
Flat feet against the gravel and the dust
It matters not how hard the road
It matters not how deep the pain
It matters not how much
Your footprints blood dyes stain
You will make it home
You will make it
To your grandmother’s house made of cherry wood
The scent that arrays
Rising like those cane flowers
Like sunlight gently touches the porch
Where light halos the house
Like fairies’ sparkle
And everything is alive again
Beyond just memory
While bluebirds out on limbs of trees
Sway and sing and greet you back sweetly
The whistled wind drifts
You beyond the wilderness
Beyond life’s pains
You keep moving forward
For the arms of the woman
Who gives you joy
Higher than angels
Higher than the clouds
Her wings invisible
But you know they are there
Wrapped in her cotton wings
Blanketed in her embrace
Warm now, from life so cold
She cradles you back to her
Before your life took its toil
Full are all the feelings joyful cries
You’ve found her again to be cuddled to her heart
And see again the fondness for you in her eyes
In your elder years you’ve missed
Now a babe, again you know only bliss
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words than words without a heart.
—Mahatma Gandhi
__________________
A big thank-you and a welcome back to Marchell Dyon this morning! Marchell says she enjoys reading poetry wherever she can find it, and she also enjoys learning more about the art of poetry. Her work has been published in many magazines and journals over the years. She has been nominated for the Best of the Net award, and she also won Torrid Literature Journal’s award in 2012. She is a disabled poet from Chicago, IL, and her poetry first appeared in Medusa’s Kitchen on August 29, 2013. Welcome back, Marchell, and don't be a stranger!
__________________
—Medusa
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Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
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work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
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