Rowan Berries

This World

This World in which I was born

Worships those who conform.

But if one jiggles one’s way out of the norm,

This World would crush one for being foreign.

This World in which I was born.

Sometimes it produces,

Other times it destroys.

Whether or not this act is conducive

The World remains quite coy.

This World in which I was born.

The World is a beautiful creature

Rife with mountainous curves as sacred as nunneries.  

 But the World is a deceptive teacher,

Catering to those who can afford her luxuries.

This World in which I was born. 

African American Urban Literature: Life After Being Lost-Book Trailer

It’s Okay (Remembering Ernest Victor Frazier 4/23/2014)

It’s okay to be sad,

To let tears drench the corners of our eyes,

Then slide down and flood our sullen cheeks.

It’s okay to be angry,

To curl our fingers into fists and smash things…

If that soothes the anger in our fragile, cantankerous hearts.

And it’s okay to question God

For feeding us hope, then snatching it away,

And in doing so, leaving a part of us to starve

For answers that our tongues will never taste.

But we mustn’t forget to rejoice

In knowing our Grandfather or our

Dad or our friend is at rest.

Though we might find it hard to believe,

There is indeed mercy in Death.

And we mustn’t forget to calm our anger

And dust off that inner peace.

But most of all, we mustn’t forget

That the one we’ve cherished for 96 years

Has gone off to see a Higher, all-loving Being.