by Melvinie Jackson
At times, I wonder about your past
and what has made you, you.
What were you like back then?
As I sit on the steps and stare
at the off-white painted walls,
hanging there is a photo of you
when you were six years old.
I close my eyes and try to formulate
what could’ve happened that day.
The sun beaming on your soft brown skin.
I can see your long and thick black pony tails
with white bows at the top, bouncing up and down
as you ran through the grass in Papa’s backyard.
Prancing in your white dress, you reminded me of an angel
so pure and holy.
And that illuminating smile that would run
across your face with a gap so wide like a mile.
As I hold your soft brown wrinkled hands that have nurtured a few,
Tell me, what has made them so giving?
Just like Christ, you have sacrificed yourself and your dreams
so that I could live out my dreams.
The grey hairs that peak from your scalp don’t account for your wisdom.
You know so much about life and its entirety
You are strong just like the pounding sounds of your heart
and your faith is unmeasurable.
I am your reflection
and I long to be just like you.
For you are truly the definition of a virtuous woman.