Sown

Full Circle

I used to be a beat-
tapping timidly
among long caramel colored fingers
Strum Strum Strum-ing strings
of terra-cotta wood-
Knock Knock Knock-ing
ashen tightened hide tied around
its mahogany cylinder.
But now I am the rhythm
Flowing through hallowed ground upon
which the feet of fingers strummed
grow roots-
knotting-beating melodies
through mahogany drums.

I used to be a sonnet-
rhym~ing
12 lullab-eyed lines in-2 a couplet
turn~ing time.
Now I am a ballad - ode to more
epic journeys- counted within the lullaby-eye
turned twisted-timed upon the measure.

I used to be a seed-
sown within the fertile hull-
encapsulated-covered-pushed-buried
in rich stroked chocolate frothed sod.
But now I am a root-
reaching deep through mocha beats
flowing upon lullab-eyed sonnets
14 stretched to infinite upon an
epic ballads ode to
Brown Suga juicy~ness.
Encapsulated- turned tilled kissed and picked
by the
Fingers of God.

Penned by Moni...Ashe