One of the most beautiful visual treasures in life is a rainbow. I suppose it’s has always been. But the rainbow became a significant beauty for me one summer day when my mother allowed me to run alone to get my father from the park because a storm was coming. I cannot tell you how happy I was.  My joy was palpable.

There was little I was allowed to do on my own back then. I’m the babygirl of nine girls and was small enough to be carried on my family’s shoulders until I was 12 years old. So, impending storm and the park three streets over and to blocks in, my mother said I could go and get my father. Smile…

Daddy saw me. My father’s smile is amazing; everything on his faces seems to smile and you feel what he feels. Laughing eyes and charming grin he grabbed my hand just as the first plump raindrop christened our hands, “Yataski Lee! Hey boy, you came here by yourself?” My father called all of us boy on account he didn’t have any. While most of my sisters have masculine nicknames, my own was Yataski Lee- whatever.

Well we headed off for home, the rain a steady drizzle by the time we reached the corner. But you know the nature of summer showers; one second it’s a downpour and the next a memory framed in sunshine. Well my dad and I turned the corner and neither of us could believe what we were seeing. Arching the street was rainbow after rainbow after rainbow. Well Yataski-Lee would say those rainbows never ended, I can only say there were more than I have ever seen, even until today, one behind the other over and over. It was the most amazing thing either of us had ever seen and we instinctively gripped hands- his wide and strong, my own so tiny as to cuddle inside his palm…

I felt so safe, so free, so perfectly special. In that moment he was my daddy alone all by myself. I still get full when I think of that day, that moment and all it fostered. That archway of rainbows was our free pass for healing and forgiveness for the rest of our years. Every rainbow I see is a reminder of the love built into my dad and me.

There seems to be possession beyond the trees that clears the mind and soul,
I’ve glimpsed the space, imagined its grace, but never known for sure
You see the further I walk, the closer I get to just another tree
My hope becomes weary, the overhang is dreary and I just fall to my knees
Ah this view is so familiar, so wretched, yet my boon
You see my friend it is here it gleams a life that’s coming soon

I go to stand, but stay my stance for my joints have taken root
My chest is hollowed, my back a bow and deep within I shook
The strangest thing occurred just then my eyes were made to see,
The opposite of what I thought was true! The soil was rooting in me!

How peculiar the feel, how fresh the smell that had me now enthralled
I wanted more and needed more, but couldn’t figure why at all
This is earth, mere forest dirt making me feel so free
I had a mind to discount this change coursing inside of me
But woe to the man who denounces the hand who’s created the flesh we feel
I came all this way to get weary one day to find I only needed to kneel

Just then a kiss befell my brow and I look up to see
I had fallen just below the loft of the sycamore tree
And there sat Zacchaeus smiling down, wisdom pooled in his eyes
He gave a nod and turned his head and then I realized
This fall I took was far more than a blessing in disguise
It would clear my mind, heal my woes and press grace into my core
Of this one thing I was certainly sure, I would have to search no more

The roots unfastened, I unbent my limbs
Shoulders pressed west, straightening of stem
I welcomed grace with countenance placed
And felt my foundations shift
Zacchaeus moved form and then was gone
And on my right was his gift

Empty was the box
Full was the thought in revealing the saving truth
I needed nothing at all
But to fall and allow grace her sanctioned due

I am woman of great passion, carved from loves core, etched in the finest romanticism, refined in spirituality and armored in justice. I live with the freedom of not recognizing my gender, my race, or age. I am a respecter only of rights and wrongs, not titles and classes. I was formed for evocation and incitation. Like the gourds of heaven, I was built so that much could be retained in order that much may be poured forth.

Everyone walks with such pride today. We look at each other for the first time with valid eyes because for the first time were are equal, we are not labeled units of a whole, but one, just countrymen, my brother, my sister no matter you station, status gender, orientation time of morning, nothing! People walk lighter The Wiz Brand New Day blasts across the office from the desk of a small white male, Someone thought they were Leroy and danced to the off key voices of their coworkers singing Fame’s theme song.

Friendly conversations were had between total strangers. People got to know each other, making the most of the morning commute, risking the chaste smile at other travelers, chivalry was resurrected, the daily frustration seemed a bit worth it. “It’s ok,” the mind cooed, “He won. It’s gone be alright,” and a soul sighed relief. Perchance? Perchance I will see a day when I won’t be just surviving, one more day? A writer’s block was removed from its comfy little corner of the D quad. A young teen waves a celebratory banner on an empty street and emphatically enjoys her one-person parade.

We are teary, scared, hopeful- desperate for this thing to work and work like he said it would. I need more of his positivism more of his common sense to be publicized from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, because as does rain- goodness trickles downward. You only need visit Local USA, to see the trickle effect from our former administration. Yes, we walk with pride today because we voted for the investment of our joy, peace and future prosperity in health and economy. We voted to return the power of democracy to…us.

I am a woman of great wealth; for what is mine no one can take. I live with the freedom. I live with hope.

Only two, we call it the terrible stage, feet so small to fit into my palm. It struck him, the circular post, painted a bright white, he stopped in awe taking it all in and as if answering the sirens call, moved in for an appreciative caress taking in the texture the coolness like a summers balm and it dawned on him, this new thing was far greater than his limited perspective and taking a few stumbling steps back, he assessed the absolute girth of his discovery and like a pauper to the lost booty was overjoyed, he ran forward and threw his limited span as far as it would go and beamed with glee, for he had found his love. He was kindred to the science. He would build… and she missed it all. The moment her boy was written as Man in to the books of  “To Come” all because her phone rang.