(2 April 1805 – 4 August 1875 / Odense)

A Monologue With Self

My life is fluff...I know it want be long
Sitting in limbo purring like kitten without a home
lacking faith taught me to heavily lean on…

So missing my sister's laugh as well as frowns and moans.
Where goes her light. Can't see her point finger signaling
bright lights big city, as jimmy Reed harps
and red wine going right to her head

Now Sis! I'll miss those late night phone calls and your groans.
I'll miss walking the streets you can't walk...I'll miss crying the cries you can't cry...I'll miss the dances you can't dance...and
miss your fingers playing songs...
I'll miss your buttery cast iron cornbread baked from scratch.
Shed an ocean of tears for your fear...Then stir the den and chase them on their way, and with courage, face down every last one of those phobias that wouldn't leave you alone!

Sis! Spirit guide tells me to be attentive to:
Sister-4 must live and die as one…momma made this truth that
we must keep as gold.
In the last days, family will circle each bed; wrangling hands and
throwing back heads trying to make sense of the mess we made.

Momma and papa are long gone to dust...leaving us to sift and strained
and separate the particles of their mess: question they left behind
All their boys and girls past, some present and some late have their mess..
Now, can the only 3 hearts left equal the hearts of nine?
Or, the love of 3 equal love of Momma?
Or, the cries of 3 girls can't be the means of 4
Now we-3 know, we lack FEAR and do declare!

We've climbed the mountains, and leaving our children just bumps.
We've weathered the storms, and you dry to weather yours.
We've blundered in the dark that you may walk in the light.


By Almedia Knight-Olive
October 20,2012

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