Lineage Poem

I am my mother’s daughter
We stand in closets
Communing with the Holy Spirit
Startling saints with our sensuality
Filling streets and sanctuaries with our Roars
Keeping mysteries and secret behind fire eyes and brilliant smiles

I am my father’s daughter
Quietly jumping off balconies onto pulpits
Leading rallies by night
Soaking is silent thought by day
Ears listening to the wind then riding it through storms
Still waters running deep
Loving people as much as the Word

I was born risk-taker
My father used to lay in the street in the 50s
Playing chicken
Not wanting to be the first to roll away from on-coming traffic
He used to ride bikes through whites only neighborhoods
Eat at whites only counters
And protest the white house with me on his shoulders

When I ask my mother how she flies through such dangerous skies
She says “I never think about the alternative - staying on the ground.”
She soars to places where clouds of religious ritual and clouds of spiritual discipline unite
Where clouds of Africa and the Diaspora unite
Where clouds of vision and reality unite
I am my mother
We speak fire
Walk drum beats
And dance with God

I am my father
We are masterful griots
Telling our stories like oak trees
We are supreme owls
Seeking to see our people’s reality especially at midnight
We are students of midwifery
Spending our lives helping others breathe and give birth

My mother’s memory is in me
Memories of NY projects and United Nations diplomacy are in me
Memories of trading perm for afro puff are in me
And memories of being equally comfortable in mini-skirts and flowing dashikis are in me
But memories of surrender – not in me
My father’s memory is in me
Memories of Baltimore Jim Crow and DC’s march on Washington are in me
Memories of redemption sermons and revolution speeches are in me
But memories of being a follower – not in me

My parents’ pen flows through me
Their prayers hold me up
Their love – the wind beneath my wings
And their human mistakes reminding of the possibility of resurrection
For the spirit in them did not begin with them
It reaches back to southern plantations
It dances across the middle passage
It pre-dates the point of no return
It resides in the rhythms, textiles, genius, soul of a Continent
It runs through empty tomb and Calvary Cross
It runs in the wilderness and the garden
It was present at the beginning of the beginning

I am daughter of John and Cecelia
I am daughter of Africa and America
I am daughter of Alpha and Omega
I am daughter of legacies that must be passed on
I stand on invisible shoulders holding tip toeing children over my head
I take my place in this chain
Having the same faith as my ancestors
That those who come after me will transcend me
Not forgetting me but carrying our legacy to altitudes beyond our reach