I'm a small-bodied, long-legged, dark-skinned, self-lettered flamboyant wordsmith. I am an industrious, unquenchable burning fire. The humble, good-hearted booksmith next door. You see, I'm deadly when armed with a pen and paper. Fierce when entrusted with the quiet and peace of the early morning.
Thank you.
Thank you for your presence in our lives.
Thank you for easing our pains and soothing overwhelmed hearts.
Thank you for mending broken souls and fixing our insecurities.
...
Mine is not your smartphone-age flamboyance.
Mine is not your modern 'here-today-gone-tomorrow' kind.
It lies not in my step,
But in the rhythm of my voice.
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Today we celebrate a champion,
We celebrate a gladiator.
We celebrate a virtuous woman,
My food bank and my mother's daughter.
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Your interests may be trash to someone else,
and vice versa.
That doesn't make you wrong or them right,
but different.
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It came bearing gifts.
Gifts of destruction and death.
It came hauling notices.
Layoffs, suspensions and evictions.
...