Poetry Entry #1

In Due Time

Twisting twirls in ringlets of hope, building that layer which holds me down 

 Twine tightly bounded by tearings of what was home. The ink in which creates a book. 

 For the first time, I’m slowly microdosed over seven hours, each hit being a shriek of musical notes, for my excitement cannot be contained

 I am pulled, tugged — unable to breath in the first pinch that scrunches my eyebrows

 Scream I say, inside my head picturing the perfect collision of “bubblegum bonnet”, and the originals behind oppression 

The remaining section of my historically cultivated land can be filled with an additional ten that will feed the people of my heart, alongside my soul. 

 Hot springs leave their mark on my back — I am able to feel the warmth of those who sat before me. 

My clue, my hint, I know I will soon run free.

 I break from the arms that held me close, soundly bound I take in all that I see, the history on my head modified by personal paint 

 Clink-clunk-clack, loud and roaring I am reminded of my childhood, where the solidified rain drops after a blizzardly night hang near the end of okra and rice.

 I stand staring into my eyes, because then for the first time, I experience a new strand of self expression.