by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Ol’ Woman You can tell a lot about a person just by looking them in the face: the lines, crow’s feet, wrinkles, warts, and moles are the typography of a life. Tragedy’s wisdom and future’s courage are written there. A young lady, not accustomed to slavery’s venom,...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Ode to a Skin Head Even the most loathsome person has a soul, and that soul has a story. Each life has a backstory- that doesn’t excuse choice but makes room for repentance and change. Hitler is your heroYou say, ‘therewere no death camps’beating blindlydefenseless...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Easter Morn’ Toast Black preachers have a way about them- their posturing, wringing of sweat-laden handkerchiefs, and that definite treble in their voices. Actors and orators both, they can bring alive deep truths and make them resonate in our souls. This morning’s...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Voices The juke joint for some people is as much a sanctuary as the church. They offer incense and worship at the bar’s confessional. The cafe looked worse on d’inside than out.The floor was half-way fallin’ apart.The wood was rotted.An’ de bar was nodin but a bunch...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Empty Baskets At some time or other, we have all felt as if we arrived empty-handed, depleted, with no more to give. The crumbs from our tables, even that we hold onto tightly. For us, there is a grace found in the multiplying hands and prayers of Jesus. I gathered up...
