On that Thanksgiving day, I had a lot to be thankful for

Surrounded by the same circumstances the past two years
The familiar everyday scene I took refuge in
After the Low-rain stopped, started to weigh on my being

From nowhere this warming light came unexpected,
But sure of what she had come to get
A promise…

A voice so limpid it inspired me
A skin so soft, like black satin
A smile so bright, it fickled like a light
A joyfulness so contagious, I got infected
A laughter so genuine it penetrated the walls of my soul
She came and brought the radiance of the sun with her and made everyday bearable

All the apprehension suddenly made way to possibilities
The Lawd had heard my supplications for a sign, any sign
When from my doorsteps showed up tender mercies from heaven

Bearing abundantly, soft bodied fruit
Yummy blackberry
With a root bark, with dizzying curves
Intense aromatic fragrance
Almost ready, Eager

But as like a valiant farmer
I shall plant my tree and
Wait till the FALL harvest song
To bear its fruits
Before I reap the fruit of my labor of love

And soon enough she groaned
How come your mother earth that
You love so much, not warm up to me
Not take me in, embrace me as hers as I am to you
Am I not good enough to be planted on your garden?
Honor before death
To that I replied, an apple tree she favors
But after the harvest, she will be force to recognize
The beauty in this, that I see

There from a distance I saw the clouds gather
The Oracle had warned me of the storm
Plant another bramble son
Blackberry’s can be wild
And their incurved thorns will dig into your flesh
When you least expect

But what did the oracle know
Of the complicity I had with my tree
Cultivating, pruning
Of all the long talks, to calm her fears
Of all the long gazes, to build faith, hope and experience
Of the sweet kisses, the warm embraces

But what was set in stone.
With a sudden change of condition
Found me unprepared, though predictable

Then came the deluge, unrooting all in its passage
There I stood numb to any feelings
Thoughts Rushing like a flood gate
Confused, disoriented
Yet not resentful, not bitter
Depth in a man is a privilege of
Those who have suffered said Oscar

So I said a little prayer
Lawd let not pride set upon me
Let no sorrow make me resentful, empty
Give thee strength to regain the enduring energy to plant again
Undeterred, unbent in the process of healing, feeling and dealing
With hopes of what’s to come
Will bring a better harvest