Inspired by Akala, I wrote a new rhyme

The power is within me
The power is mine
The power is in me
It's there to be mined
The power is within me
Not the power of the mind
The power of the feminine
A force of a kind
Not the kind that recommends filial piety
More akin to a female deity
It's not like a film script
Where it all falls into place
It daunts and it challenges
It gets in your face
It's the power that is needed
The power that is felt
It's a power to be heeded
To heal and to feel.
It's a force and a power
and it is real
It's angry
It's forceful
It knows what it wants
I won't use it to hurt you
But to heal you
and grow you
and show you,
to know you
Its my power
I know it
My yin for your yang
It's your power that dominates all over the land
I won't use mine to hurt you
But to righten a wrong
Not to whiten, but brighten
and shine the light on
The crimes of the past that still go on.
There's a fire in my belly
Not a fire in the booth
Akala said it,
And I sought out the truth

Love Sorrow

A friend gave me this poem by Mary Oliver.

I identify …

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,

what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so

utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment

by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,

as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow.