Shekinah Reed
Family.
They’re supposed to be your spinal cord.
The bone that keeps you upright.
It may bend,
It may distort,
But it can realign
And continue to support you.
Family.
The ones you turn to
When you see the backs of everyone else.
The sunshine coming out on a cloudy day,
The rainbow after the rain,
The double rainbow after the storm,
The triple rainbow after the hurricane.
Family.
The ones that fuck you up the most.
The ones that stick a fork in you
Put you in their mouths
Chew you up
And shit you out.
Family.
The ones that keep going when you say stop.
The one that rocks back and forth and back and forth
And back and forth
And back and forth
And you can’t move.
You’re a ship with no sails on a still ocean;
Your paddles have been thrown overboard
The wind in the air is nonexistent
Similar to the throb in your lower area
That they promised would be there.
Family.
The bringer of pain
And harbinger of life.
Family.
Family.
Family.
Family.