More Than The Story Told Poem by Almedia Knight-Oliver

Our dwelling was one room, one window
One door, not even a keyhole, but a latch
To keep her and baby son in and others out

Way back there when things were not yet full with age
the same place we are now...the post hole digger

leans uselessly against the splintered barn door
and day by day the leaves of grass had begun withering
and the flowers falling everywhere

At the time I-greener than the leaves of a spring leaf
bleeding tears while seeking a place to rest before being
planted in the richest soil, and baptized in the running
water that had reached its comfort level
She was fresh like momma's first mess of turnip greens
And as tender as any slab of fresh killed pork hanging
To dry in the old smoke house during yesteryears even
Further than the distance between where she stands right now.

Are you religious or spiritual?
Weighted with questions with no sight of any answers in tow
The brain leading the way and a deluded mind painting
Symbols, forms, and shapes like a poetess or artist
aspiring passageway out or to escape and create a reality

Sing child sing! Praise child praise! 'Just yell amen for authentication! '
Church full with the sacred and profane-can't tell whose whom
Unripened ears too green to come to know how grown folks walk and talk
Mowing grass not their own and flopping in dirt as if it don't hurt!

Mother-tree has more to tell, though, bare and standing
Despite leaning from the mighty winds of time
trunk grey worn from years of losing one seeds after another
boughs are bare, along, and lonely
The fallen seeds are grown with trees of their own…







September 27,2014