‘hey there, africa,’ i said.
‘hey there,’ she replied.
i first saw her on the mountain top, carrying water on her head,
now i see her in symbols,
carrying words forward into space.
like everything else i would experience in life,
this one came with a love story,
all my stories are love stories,
all my endings, so far tragic.
when we are able, when we are strong enough,
we do what we can to survive,
carry what we need to,
haul ourselves up and down paths,
bow to whom we should,
struggle against whom we believe vulnerable.
these three ladies are my teachers,
their eternal embrace of the same place,
gives me hope that my own struggle,
my own carrying of myself forward and over,
will be immortalized in a single moment,
the moment she touched my heart with her lips,
and kissed compassion into my soul.