(To Amiri Baraka)
I have accepted the silence that is in me;
Knowing the world bathes me in more love
Than I, weakest of fathers, could pour upon
You. I have come to embrace and cherish,
The way warmth cannot soften my heart
And so I have grown to know the future,
To truly know it, and not turn away in terror.
Every night, to sleep, I welcome hushed notes,
Though each night it is to a different song.
And when the music plays no more,
I will hold you in my arms
And hear your fragile voice.
In darkness, I placed my hands on her womb,
And could be sure I felt your hand on mine,
I placed my ear on her rising and falling skin,
But could not hear your song —
Only the whispers of her blood,
Wrapping around my fingers.