If You Were A Pure Bolt Of

Style Has A Profound Meaning To Black Americans. If We Can’t Drive, We Will Invent Walks And The World Will Envy The Dexterity Of Our Feet. If We Can’t Have Ham, We Will Boil Chitterlings; If We Are Given Rotten Peaches, We Will Make Cobblers; If Given Scraps, We Will Make Quilts; Take Away Our Drums, And We Will Clap Our Hands. We Prove The Human Spirit Will Prevail. We Will Take What We Have To Make What We Need. We Need Confidence In Our Knowledge Of Who We Are.

I Grow Old Though Pleased With My Memories The Tasks I Can No Longer Complete Are Balanced By The Love Of The Tasks Gone Past I Offer No Apology Only This Plea: When I Am Frayed And Strained And Drizzle At The End Please Someone Cut A Square And Put Me In A Quilt That I Might Keep Some Child Warm And Some Old Person With No One Else To Talk To Will Hear My Whispers And Cuddle Near

I’ve Not Learned The Acceptable Way Of Saying You Fascinate Me...i’ve Not Even Learned How To Say I Like You Without Frightening People Away-

Sacred Cows Make Very Poor Gladiators.

When Younger, I Thought One Of The Particulars Of Being "homo Sapiens" Was To Communicate. I Have Not Learned Not To, Though I Am Cautious When I Try.