A poem to Brit Nicole upon the event of her being a thing…

Psalm 118:22
to one of the most outstanding writers to ever bless my city with staying here…

at every birth there is a gathering
an assembly of faces and waiting eyes
a pilgrimage like the 3 Wise Men
called by God to honor the Christ child…

When you were born
I wonder if the skies parted
wonder if the earth shook
just a little bit
under the magnitude of your delivery

they will call you by many names
some will sound like a force of nature
other less thoughtful words will sound like
a punch in the jaw
crass talons digging into the small mammal
living inside you

Be careful how you let them treat you
stand firm against the lies
they will tell your skin
you have always been perfect
you have always been important
you have always been awesome

they will compare you to things they are familiar with
tell you what you ought be
you are smarter than this
you are everything you wanted to be
waiting to happen
you are happening
you are an event
you are an awaking

you are…
you are…
you are…

When they find you.
After your bones have turned into rumors
and your flesh has become fertilizer
when the light effervescing inside you
has calmed
and returned to the MAGIC
that sent you

How they will mock the non believers?

You are a whirlwind,
you are a candle,
you are a lighting bolt
illuminating the the nights sky
you are shooting star
you are the perfect typeset
the words we need to hear

Pity them
they only see you
cloaked in their expectations
to weary and full of false pride sometimes
they miss the carnival waiting for the clowns
you better lace your boots up
Princess, Mother, Queen

they will see your throne and doubt the monarchy
foolish mortals
scared to look into the sun…


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