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The New Griots—Pouring Down Raining Words
From the wombs
of our pregnant minds
may our charged words
drop like God’s tears
reaching the depths
of the precincts
of your souls
seeping like His raindrops
to swollen roots
anchoring life anew
birthing thunderstorms
of revelations
missed in oral tradition—now
staining sheets of thin pulp
with silent echoes—silent echoes
once etched in dry sand—time
unsheathing truth’s truth—unlocking
opening doors and windows
into new souls—new souls
seeking those creative leaps of mind
of the new Griots—rain dancers
inking rhythmic words
flowing like a speaking river
meandering
trials
tribulations
traditions
peace
love
meandering Minerva-like
between double clef river banks:
Come walk in the mist
of our rain—pitter pattering words
singing salient songs of life
showering selves in truth and glory.
