for Dawn.
Where I come from,
we thank a person all over again, as if we
never did before, even if it was just for them
having to:
a) spend mind and thought,
b) give gift or token, or money, even
c) carve time and presence
for the small ceremony we even
forgot to directly, explicitly invite them to…
Where I come from,
they say shelter is a more delicate and difficult
thing than:
a) the frame and grace that clothing lends.
b) perhaps, even, the life they say Water is.
c) the heft of Corn and Fish, for the sagging
stomach-sack, and for the peculiar character
of salt and pepper to help the heft sit and settle in…
— because kindness may not be a
thing to:
a) count in weights and depths and widths.
b) label with languages of worth and import.
c) assign measures of essences and immediacies.
— but there should be something to say about those kind of
kindness-es heavy and hefty alike with further kindness-es
that continue to give and give and extend of themselves…
Where I come from,
we wake up, we go early,
long before Day pours with
fresh shine and crisp clarity,
not long after Dawn breaks and
hen and cock alike calls and crows,
to say and do our thank-s
— because the natural business of kindness
is (en)twin(ed) with the sacred diligence of gratitude.
– Normal, Illinois, USA:
Morning of Monday, October 23 & Night of Tuesday, December 26, 2023.
Love,
AishaWrites.
Nu kɛ Hulu (Water and Sun) 