Grandmother

Winds wrestle with the demons in
the living room.
Curtains sway to the song of the
Un-auto tuned Voice of my
Grandmother.

She sings Negro spiritual
in between prayers that this
Nigga get's his act right.
Winds wrestle with the
demons in the living room.

I sit and wonder why my
Grandmothers bones never
cracked even after all the
tap dancing the troubles
her time has seen.

One day I'd gather up
courage like she gathers
up a fist full of Chicken
Necks to fry them.

One day I'll gather up the
courage to ask her:
"Grandmother, why would
you stay with such a
foul man?"

All ready half knowing
the answer, I'm sure
she'll say: "God said
I wasn't ready but,
in due time I'll go."

Grandmother, what
happened to the you
that praised yourself?
What happened to the
you that reeked of White
Diamonds and off the
dome rapped Bible
Scriptures from
Proverbs.

Grandmother, I've
 watched you for far
too long allow
demons to wrestle with
the wind in you living
room.

I've watched you trade
in your smile for spit
balls of  hellish Vocabulary
when describing that
foul man you forced
your heart to love.

Grandmother, it's me, Jazz.
Your Granddaughter.
And I'm asking you to
get your curtain sway back.

Take back what
rightfully belongs to you.
I'm ready to see your
smile back. Let that foul
man know that your
happiness is Pay Back!