Dream Work

I do my Father's work

Foraging my dreams from clay

Breathing the breath of life into dirt

No matter how long it takes 

I'm gonna hustle till it hurts  

And even in the midst of battle 

I will put God first 

 

Love always, Esha  

Blue Feelings

Listen to the reading of this poem on Hope Speaks Podcast

Photo by Isom Jacobs 

I was painted blue with your love. But I'll get back up again. Only to swim in the sea of another's eyes. To sail in the dreams of a new lovers mind. To forget about the memories I choose not to remember. To push away the old feelings I'd rather leave behind. You are the cushion of old familiarity like a couch I became use to. The groves of a body settled into place. Accustomed to seeing your form and caressing your face. But when I needed comfort. I couldn't find you. No more swimming in blue oceans looking for the end of rising tides. It's time for a new adventure my heart is in need it something I can call mine.

Love always, Esha <3

Battlefield of Dreams

Ball up your fist and punch. You anticipated the arrival of this moment all your life. To fight for what you believe in. To stand on the battlefield of dreams. To shed sweat, blood and tears on the ground that will determine the outcome of future generations that have yet to set eyes on the world as we know it. So give it all you got. The struggle is spiritual but the aftermath is impossible to quantify. 

Love always, Esha 

My Flesh

this flesh,

my flesh is soft, succulent and brown

a hue passed down

from my Grandpappy

it’s moisture maintained by shea butter

these are the lips

that gave sweet dreams to dry eyes

full and shiny like the sunrise

hands that cradled

water from many streams

used to toil, eager to clean

these are the fingers

that knitted woven things

this flesh,

my flesh is soft, succulent and brown

a hue passed down

from my Grandpappy

but sometimes it betrays me

cute can turn angry with no food

it cries out:

feed me before i turn rude

always wanting what it can’t have

trading in the desires of the heart

for all the shortcuts that make the spirit sad

it specializes in hiding the good

within a shell of bad

elastic

like a rubber band

it snaps back

tighter than spandex jeans

but when wrinkles do come…

my skin will wear it

as a badge of honor

come and see

the signs of a life well lived

look at the temple that gave

and still gives

this flesh is my flesh

and it is what it is

Love always, Esha