A Monologue with self

I know it want be long…
Sitting here in limbo like a purring kitten without a home
and lacking faith that's taught to heavily lean on…. endless
stream rippling, wavering, and challenging me to ride.

Now. So missing my sister's laugh as well as her frowns and moans.
Where gone her light. Can't see her point finger signaling
bright lights big city, as jimmy Reed
harp, and wine going right to her head

Now Sis! I'll miss those late night phone calls and your groans.
I'll miss walking the streets you can't walk. I'll miss crying the cries
You can't cry; I'll miss the dances you can't dance. I'll miss your fingers
playing and hearing your songs.
I'll miss your buttery cast iron cornbread baked from scratch.
I'll shed an ocean of tears for your fear, then stir the den and chase them on their way.
I'll even face down every last one of those phobias that wouldn't leave you alone!

Sis! Spirit guide tells me to be attentive to:
Sister-4 lives and dies as one…momma made this truth that

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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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A Soliloquy: Today, Tomorrow...and Tomorrow

I know my time want be long…
Sitting in limbo shored up by life's complexities
and lacking the faith that's taught to heavily lean on and
lifetime's ripples and waves challenging me for a ride.

Now I'm missing my sister's laugh, as well as her frowns and sighs.
Where gone her light. Can't see her point finger signaling bright lights
big city, as Jimmy Reed harp, and wine going right to her head.

Nowadays, I'll miss your late night phone calls and your moans. I'll miss
walking the streets you can't walk; cry the cries you can't cry: dance the dances
you can't dance. I'll miss your fingers playing the piano and hearing your songs.
I'll miss your buttery cornbread baked from scratch, even shed oceans of tears for your Fears and stir their den, chasing them away, as well as, everyone of those pesky phobias that you couldn't keep at bay.

Sis! My ubiquitous spirit guide tells me to pay attention to 4 sisters who live and die as one…Momma made this truth for us to keep shinning like diamonds until we die.
In each last day, family will circle each bed; wrangling hands, throwing back heads trying to make sense of the mess we made.

Momma and Papa are long gone to dust. Can we sift and strain to separate
the basics of their mess? An unanswerable question to which they left to
5 boys lone gone who left us all their mess, and Sis Ira, your nevertheless.

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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Remembering 'Joyce

Your joyful smile; your joyful laughter, and your caring for others permeated the community in which you lived and worked.

My eyes never grew weary of your glowing smile,
But now, these eyes of mine are swimming in a river of tears, and
my heart bounded by pain and grief. Yet,
I’m certain your soul is delighting the heavens.

My Joy, you awed me with the love you had for your family and others.
To observe that radiant phenomenon was akin to watching stars fall among
Daffodils in your garden. You are with God every where-in heaven and on earth:
I can see you in the field of stars, the sun is your smile, the moon your glow,
in the flowers that grows.
Shh…I hear a breeze- is it the breath of God whispering
in my ears saying: death is a mystery of all mysteries

You inspired others to believe that God’s love would be
Their comforter in times of pain and sorrow…
Away from home or at home.When I despaired, you would say
“Meta” you got to have faith!

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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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A Tale of Two Sisters

O' for so many years I've wished you happy birthdays or
beginnings, yet there's something very special about this one-
a milestone in your life and mine too.
Are you aware that we've spent our entire
lives together or in proximity?

Now let's reminisce and trek back across
the countless days and nights we walked to and fro
on dusty trails and gravel roads; to school and church
singing 'How much is that doggie in the window',
echoing the 50's.
Do you remember our double dates with Joe and Milt
as sap rose in the trees preparing buds to flower and
budding teens kissing and keeping out of momma's sight.

Okay, okay! I know you're tired- I am, too!
Let's slow our steps a tad for our feet look
like 'Old dancing Dan's deformed hoofs.
Look at those pink roses in your garden, calling to mind that
budding day in May we boarded that streamline.

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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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The Lottery

The Lottery

Through their mind’s eye, patiently they stood gazing to the sky,
peering through the floating cloud, hoping to spot the pot
of gold at the end of the rainbow.

From a shorter distance, a day in the month of May,
and in the solitude of self, I studied the long line of
Mona Lisa faces against expectations and probabilities.
Some leaned on canes; others rode in wheelchairs;
still others held up under their own weight.

As the single column shrunk, it grew with young mothers
and their laughing children ducking under their
grasping hands, and using them as Maypoles.

My mind got a glimpse of a young mother with a cute little
house etched on her face for she and the baby
on her hip, and the toddler tugging at her skirt.

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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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