Sugarcane fields

I remember that day.

The sunset sat on the edge of the world and a canvas of the sky was the view. Redefined sight, my pie-crusted eye's awoke to a mosaic window where a grown-man lies could do no harm.

Carrying his mind through storms.

He lay dormant for a kiss of life, yet his lips ripen with fruit.

No bark. No bite.

He'd loan you his teeth to speak words of venom.

He'd sell you his head for one tranquil night.

He'd pray with his eyes open to see the truth.

I remember that day.

Fungus gnats flew over sugarcane fields. The decaying body of a man--- once crooked, twisted, yet veins still pumped of holy water and church bells.

Who knew death could still spew piety?

As he lie there, restless yet rested. In sugarcane fields. Where men told lies. Women wrote songs. Children laugh & God cried.

I remember that day.

I watered the flowers. Hoping one day they sing for me when my brother marchers a prayer meant for another man's soul. To only let my dreams and visions sit banking in a nest, where red cardinals play messenger to my humanity.

I remember the day.

I saw death tell a man no secrets.

That's the day I sung a prayer for tomorrow.

by: Lashonda Midgett ©

@Shondawho