this flesh,
my flesh is soft, succulent and brown
a hue passed down
from my Grandpappy
it’s moisture maintained by shea butter
these are the lips
that gave sweet dreams to dry eyes
full and shiny like the sunrise
hands that cradled
water from many streams
used to toil, eager to clean
these are the fingers
that knitted woven things
this flesh,
my flesh is soft, succulent and brown
a hue passed down
from my Grandpappy
but sometimes it betrays me
cute can turn angry with no food
it cries out:
feed me before i turn rude
always wanting what it can’t have
trading in the desires of the heart
for all the shortcuts that make the spirit sad
it specializes in hiding the good
within a shell of bad
elastic
like a rubber band
it snaps back
tighter than spandex jeans
but when wrinkles do come…
my skin will wear it
as a badge of honor
come and see
the signs of a life well lived
look at the temple that gave
and still gives
this flesh is my flesh
and it is what it is
Love always, Esha ❤
300triedbywater.com 