şiir alıntısı #75, Angel - Angela Jackson

 I am the only one here.

 

I stand in my one place

and I can see a good piece

down the road. I am yonder,

further than the chunk of your stone.

Right now, directly,

I am persimmon falling free

and the prisoner opening up

in me.

Don’t come through my door and

want to run my house. I am

the angel who sweep air in and out my own

dancing body. I got good eyes. I can see.

A good piece down the road. Clear to

God murmuring in me. My head is the burning

bush. What I hold in my hand is the promised

land. I set my people free in me.

And we walk without wandering like people named

after mere plants,

because we are tree

and high-stepping roots

cake-walking

in this promised place.

 

Where I go is where I am now.

Don’t mess with me: you hurt yourself.

In the middle of my stride now. I am walking

yes indeed I am walking through my own house.

I am walking yes indeed on my own piece of road.

Toting my own load

and yours and mine.

I tell you

I feel fine and clear this morning even

when it’s night and a full moon with my thumbprint

on it.

Everything is clamorous and quiet.

I am the only One here.

And we don’t break. No indeed.

Come hell and high water.

We don’t break

for nothing.

- Angela Jackson, Angel