Melissa O. Fuller

January 16, 2020 | 1:37 AM

Was I not
born to find the love that we dream up?
Was I not born out of love
and cherry red kisses?
Strawberry laced sweet nothings
that tickle your ear
and bring lobe to meet shoulder?
Was I not in the line
when God was handing out companionship?
Did I miss that call?
Outstretched arms still too short to box?
Or hers not long enough to save
me?
I’m asking for a friend

Am I not
there enough when you call?
Agree with you even when you are wrong
enough?
Go out with you enough
drink with you enough
smoke you up even though I don’t smoke
enough?
Am I not your savior each time you drown?
Pulling you from the depth,
the dense?
Breathing life back into you by the lip
tongue
voice?
Am I not deserving of your loyalty?
Your understanding when I need to breathe
air
space?

Will I not
be your equal,
or more, as I am deserved?
Will my office not be the same size as yours?
Will it take me twice as long to reach the corner?
Will I not own my body
and all that become of it?
Be seen as strong enough,
intimidating enough
to fight you off should you try to steal?
Will I not be born with the right
to learn and earn
on every land?
Will I not ever lead this country
as I should?
For my point of view is grounded in human
and love is all we need?
Asking for a friend

Can I not
bear a soul
that is a child that is a baby that is a seed?
Watering and tending
feeding clipping ensuring the steady growth of?
Can I not be the vessel
of the next great
everything?
The chosen one, the guide,
the voice of reason behind the machine?
Can I not be
the
mama you know I love you?
the
mama you’re the queen of my heart?
the
you’re the driving force in my life?
the
ain’t a woman alive that could take my mama place?
the
always was a black queen, mama?
the
you are appreciated?

Won’t I ever
be content?
Find joy each spring as the flowers wake,
comfort in the falling of the snow,
the bending trees beneath them?
Won’t I ever make a home
with a garden to plant the food
and the pretties?
A veranda to sit
read the paper knit the socks hymn the songs
sip the limeade,
not the tea of passersby?
Won’t I ever be a home
runneth over with peace
and calm
sensitivity
care
honor
wisdom
fulfillment?

I’m just asking for a friend