With eyes so bright they glimmer in the dark,
She sings,”Why Miss Hannah, I like whatchyu wearin.
But why do I have to play the piano when I don’t want to teach piano.
I wanna play the violin. And why you always smilin when I say that.”
I will have to tell her when I see her,
“It’s the strength I admire coming forth from delicate lips,
If I could take an X-Ray of your heart and plaster it across the sky
For the world to see what Strength is,
People would tie the picture to poles and hang em outside their door
and be proud of being made from the same flesh, the same bones, the same blood.”
“And why you always gotta count at me Miss Hannah?”
See she speaks the language of poetry, like my son too,
These children, the ones whose eyes reflect the whole ocean, they speak in a way that sounds like song.
But her strong heart must have been working double, because right now it’s resting,
along with those sparkling eyes,
The song is being sung somewhere I might find darker than I’d like,
I know it’s being sung by the sweet little voice that knows not how to talk,
but to sing poetry with conviction of a soul who’s been around longer than I.
and next time she says, “Miss Hannah, why I have to learn to play these keys with my fingers, when my feet can do the same?”
I must reply, “Miss Amara, i forget sometimes that you are the teacher and not I.”
Dedicated to Amara Baker
Rest in Peace Sweet Child