where is the Black freedomsong that does not drown meout.

She pluck the rose over my eye,say, “Fly,"

The viola has been used to represent loyalty. The cello has been used to represent the human soul. The bass, is what makes us as humans, dance.

Sometimes, she’ll rest her feet on my shoulders, bold, steady. I flex my arms until they lose feeling.

the volcano is much more water than firethe tears tearing across the face of the earth

Dancing can be a spiritual activity if you let it.

I try to remember what I know about love, but every time I fall in love, I forget.

The musical notes from her piano linger in our souls, perennial.

When I bite into a tender, pink shrimp, seasoned with salt, pepper, celery, paprika and bright with lemon, I return to a day of congregation in my family after church.