Poetry

No Other

I am more than a past life with a body.
I am a walking wave
of weathered wisdom, 
reflecting the sun rays 
that radiate off the sweaty southern skin
of my slave ancestor’s face.

This is my soliloquy.
A vicissitude of voices,
a volcano of accrued choices,
spilling over with yesteryear’s fears,
and wrapped in the elapse 
of collapsed memories 
coagulated
into the being I’m seeing
in the seeing glass before me. 
All that has traveled with me since the beginning 
is the word. 
The word in the form of sound,
sound in the form of light,
light in the form of body,
body in the form of me ,
me in the form of us,
us is all there is. 
There is no Other.