Memories by Ebony Haywood

Young, gifted Christy.
Her voice–a memory,
haunting, soothing, confusing
me.
Echoing Barbara Streisand’s
memories
from the corners of my mind.
At the church,
her mother, father–was there a brother, a sister?
I don’t remember.
But the memory of them
wading in the water–
salty
Flowing down the aisle–
troubles me.
God’s gonna trouble the water and my
memories
of her ebony skin,
her lipstick parted like the Red Sea.
Go Down, Moses!
Way Down, Moses!
Her voice runneth over
her ruby lips.
Surely, goodness and mercy
shall follow my memories
all the days of my life.

About the Poet:

Ebony Haywood is a writer, teacher, and energy healer who helps people unblock their creative flow and generate solutions for their personal and professional lives. She lives in Southern California, where she enjoys cheese pizza, anything with avocado, and classic films.