The Black & White Poet

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I'm Gonna Dance Like It's Sunday

Bottled up in my own singleness,
I've realized I've used the word solitude-
More than twice.
This morning I threw on my new shirt from Charlotte Russe,
Almost got into a car accident (so mom says),
And missed out on this morning's Chai-
Downtown at the Grinder.
Before church started, I walked into the bathroom,
Shut the door to the stall,
And stared at the blue paint that was chipping-
While I helplessly cried over my own imperfections.
Not because of my convictions alone,
But how Dad spoke to me confidentially last night…
And poured out things I never knew.
All were good, and I never deserved any of it.
And I never deserved a Father with such humility.
But God wondrously put me here…
And my gratitude does not measure with my actions.
I've realized that the portrait of my life,
Is too unexplainable and indescribable…
I'm merely waiting for somebody to see it first.
During my afternoon walk,
I came across a penny-
Lying near smoked cigarettes on the street…
I never stopped to pick it up for some sort'a “luck”.
Instead, I kept walking.
And walked all the way home.

~DaYnA e. 5/2/04

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I`m Gonna Dance Like It`s Sunday