In Her Grasp

I'm only a child in Mama's rocking chair
enjoying Mother Nature in all her splendor
and all her gloom.
From hurricane's sweeping gush
to the sun filling my melancholy room;
From earthquakes' fury
to the mercy perpetuated in the moon...

I sit in the very face of an alabaster moon,
disquieted, as grace
and charity touch Her rocking chair room.
She's assumed the rift.

I sit back and that one fond memory drifts
to my sleeping essence
again. I sit back and recall
a time when traditional blues was in
and Coltrane's jazz was the thing
and I begin to hum, to dream, to sing
of a day when I will no longer have to
recall, but be
in the essence of Mother Nature's firm grasp.

Free.

Copyright © 2005 Jacquii Cooke