The Clicks of The Blue


mama knew she wouldn’t be here, and she knew i would lose myself looking for her. she left behind cryptic clues, many filled with dolphin blues. her sorrow was poured in cauldrons of gray hope, and it inspires the use of others colors.

mama taught me why folks are poor judges of their artwork, some fearing that what they leave behind is worthless, but it’s our duty and right to continue creating where those who left off before us feared to enter or failed to persist.

one day she will ask who i am
then shake the twisted hands of
invisibility and silence

the next day her hands will ache
sheโ€™ll wash, shake, and wave away
the edges of her powerlessness

she will appear to me atop the waves
as a riled bird, entangled in the clouds
convinced she is dancing in freedom

for a moment in darkness transformed
i will break the silence and drought, and
she will hear the sounds of a dolphin

though never having seen or heard a
dolphin, she will release the clouds grip
to bind with the familiar sounds of home

freedom cannot possess resistance, dance in silence, and hope to fly

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