photo by Alex Lear

the past predicts the future

            (for narvalee)

when you get closer to yr relatives

you will be surprised 

at how black they are,

they feel

the fit and familiarity of their emotions in the twilight

how much of your pain they understand

with a knowing smile, and how much of their pain

you never knew, thus you frown 

embarassed by your ignorance

and turn to yester-world

altared on the mantle piece:

ancestral photographs, amazingly graceful figures 

whose dominant features are boldly ironic eyes 

which seemingly float effortlessly just above the surface

of the cream colored paper, inscriptions in unfading black ink

on the reverse “me & shane, dec. 1934”

a small, soft purple, velvet box enshrining a plain gold ring 

a slip of torn paper from another era unthrown-away 

seven quickly scribbled numerals, the abacadabra key

to a birth, a midnight move to another town, or even

a pledge cut short by accidental death, “oh, it’s just a number,”

the slow, quiet response to your investigation

so you pick up a pencil gilded with the name of a 1947 religious

convention attended and delicately place it down beside

an 87-year-old hand mirror (you resist the impulse

to look at your reflection, afraid that you might see

unfulfilled family aspirations), this mirror is atop

a piece of lace, pressed, folded, ancient matriarchal adornment

you will be surprised to learn,

as the years go on, everything 

your people say sounds like something 

from your life story, something 

you wondered about sitting in the car

the other day in the hospital parking lot before the visit,

before the treatment

especially if you are intelligent

paid more than $10 an hour

carry credit cards rather than cash

and climb aboard a flying machine more than three times a year

you will be surprised that although you live in some other city

there is a spot with your familial name 

blind embossed and hand engraved in the heart-home 

of people you seldom see, surprised

that much of your life had already been accurately predicted

by an aunt who knew you before you were born, i.e.

when your mother 

and father were courting, staying out later than curfew

and clutching dreams tightly in the naked embrace

of yr conception

—kalamu ya salaam