Her embrace is wrapped
in wild orange with a strength that defies her tiny stature.
The release of her warm tears melts my fear.
I am locked in time, finally hugging the mother I never knew existed,
the first woman to hold me, to see my face, to feel the music strumming
in my blood.
This is where I’ve needed and wanted to be, yet, it is a strange and confusing place to be told you now belong to, like someone saying you are from Jupiter here’s your space suit, now take off.
Fade to Black
I hear her say something, but have trouble making out the words, because my brain is speeding again running fast running past sunsets and spiders
and if I could just catch up
to my thoughts, wrestle them to the ground, tame them inside the cage
of my head, I could breathe.
I could breathe.
Again.
Hi, is all I can manage to get out.
There is buzzing in my ears, numbing
in my face, and everything slows way down, like a show ending
like curtains closing
and the lights fade
out . . .
Don’t Be Afraid
On the ground, looking up,
I see them all staring down at me through streams of light.
He’s not dead. Woohoo! Uncle Stevie hollers.
Someone covers my forehead with cool hands.
Bring him inside, someone says.
He’s made of rough . . . his old . . . right, Blade? someone else says.
Be strong, Blade. You have come this far. Don’t be afraid of the answers, another whispers in my ear.
I'm not scared, I say, but the words have no volume, and then the curtain closes again.
Conversation
You’ve come a long way just to sleep, Blade Morrison.
Where am I?
A long way from the Hotel California.
. . . .
It’s nice to meet you?
You’re—
Lucy November? Yes.
You’re young.
Well, aren’t you charming. Sunny did a good job with you.
I declare!
. . . .
You probably have ninety-nine questions.
Yeah.
Let me get you some tea, and then we’ll dive in.
I think I’m hungry too.
I bet you are after sleeping for a day and a half.
What? I slept that long?
You did. You woke up once when your Joy came in. She’s a nice girl.
. . . .
She held your hand and sang to you.
Really?
And then you had a nightmare.
Sorry about that.
No worries, but you’ll have to tell me about this spider trying to kill you.
. . . .
Sweet bread. Fruit. Hot Tea.
I smell
the peppermint tea before she brings it in.
She sits by my side, feeds me a spoon at a time.
The pineapple and watermelon are almost as sweet as her scent.
She runs her fingers through my hair, then announces the plan: We ask each other questions, until there are no more questions to ask.
How will that help?
A Bird Doesn’t Sing Because It Has an Answer, It Sings Because It Has a Song.
Huh?
. . . .
Questions
How does it feel to be eighteen?
How’d you know?
I was there, remember?
. . . .
How was graduation?
What do you know about Rutherford Morrison?
Oh no, did something happen?
Can we not spend our time talking about that?
How else will I get to know you, get to know all of you?
You ever seen Star Wars?
Who hasn’t?
Can you believe he never took me to a movie? What does that tell you?
I’m pretty sure your father loves you, despite his flaws, right?
I’m pretty sure Darth Vader loved Luke also, right?
If he’s so bad, how did you end up so fine?
Why does loving someone have to be so hard?
I’m impressed—have you played this game before?
Have you considered that it’s not a game to me?
Blade, do you hate me?
Do you really want to know?
Do you know I love you?
Then, why you’d you give me away?
You think I had a choice?
So, you didn’t?
What do you think it’s like to be fifteen and pregnant?
You were fifteen?
With your whole life ahead of you?
So you chose your life over mine?
Didn’t Sunny and Rutherford give you a life?
Why can’t you answer my question? Why’d you give me away?
If I told you my parents made that decision, would it matter?
. . . .
. . . .
Who was my father?
Should a woman marry a man with smaller feet?
Huh?
The mood could be lightened a bit, no?
You think this is funny?
Would you rather we cry than laugh?
What do you mean?
What do you think I mean?
Was he a bad man?
What if this part of your story is tragedy—do you still want to know?
Is he dead?
Can’t you see I really don’t want to speak of him?
Why?
Why does evil try to collapse our hearts?
Because good is fleeting?
Is that a question?
Maybe I don’t wanna know right now, okay?
So, have you found a little of what you hoped for here?
It’s a start, right?
Will you stay in Ghana for a while?
Do you want me to?
. . . .
. . . .
Will you be up for meeting my friends tomorrow?
Will there be more pineapple?
I hope you’ll understand that after we break bread, you must go back down the mountain, leave in the afternoon, because getting stuck here during rainy season is a horrid experience, all right?
Why, what happens?
Ever been in a landslide?
Metaphorically speaking?
You get your wit from your mother, you know that?
How do you know that?
You didn’t know we grew up together?
How would I?
She didn’t tell you?
She died, remember?
. . . .
. . . .
. . . .
Is it safe for you up here during the storms?
Awww, you’re worried about your . . . mother?
When will I see you, when can we talk again?
How about I take you to the museums, the markets, and show you around Ghana?
Have you been to the slave castle?
Is that a place you’d like to see?
Is it painful?
We’ll resume this discussion and our reunion in, say, three days, under the big coconut tree?
That depends—do you mind a camera in your face and our little Princess Sia climbing on my head?
Will you give her twenty hugs and kisses for me?
And winks?
Ahhh, you’ve given me a smile and a forever dream to build a new world on, Blade Morrison.
That was not a question, so I guess I win the game.
What I’ve won today, more than makes up for the loss.
Dream Variation: Awakening
I fall out
of consciousness
into a deep,
unwavering sleep
again.
The spider
returns,
but this time
there are no
cookies
or cupcakes,
just pineapples
and Sunny
and Lucy
telling me:
Blade, wake up, turn around.
Wake Up, Turn Around.
TURN AROUND,
BLADE.
A New Day
Wake up, sport! It’s back down the mountain day, Rutherford says, so close to my face, I can smell his breath, untainted for the first time in years. Standing next to him is my mother.
You were dreaming about that spider again, she says.
You remember that book you used to love when you were a kid? he asks.
Charlotte’s Web?
No the other one you made Sunny and I read to you every night. You stopped reading it when she— I don’t remember.