Gypsy

“Phase 1” photographed by h. Reigns

Am I rough around the edges?

Am I damaged?

Am I unable to be comprehended,

because I like to be ravaged?

Is it the Cherokee in my blood,or my flow

what makes me a savage?

Do you know that the opposite of freedom

isn’t bondage?

Its acceptance…

Am I thirsty because I want to drink a full fountain?

Am I too loud,

If my commands have been known to move a mountain?

Am I a gypsy because I love the flames of fire?

Its flicks and wisps seems to dance with my desire?

Is it wrong that my moans drown out the thunder?

Are they jealous that my eyes are full of wonder?

Who am I?

Maybe the Baptists preacher’s daughter?

A misunderstood doctor who heals the African diaspora?

I was and always will be my sister’s keeper.

Even though the life I living 

won’t let me speak to her.

I’m tired of running friend,

could we pause the century and own it?

And pay in rubies to kiss

& stop time in this moment.

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. johncoyote says:

    I did enjoy the poem. I lost my Gypsy spirit somewhere. Best days are when we control our place, not locked-in by worldly needs. A amazing poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. honeyreigns says:

      It’s not loss, just contained …for the moment 😀

      Liked by 1 person

      1. johncoyote says:

        Contained for too long.

        Like

  2. johncoyote says:

    Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
    Please read the amazing work of a talented writer.

    Like

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