“Sweet Tea”
(For Jazzie upon receiving the LGBT person of the year award at the State Capitol)
She was shuffled
Back and forth,
Shaking hands and
Wading through a
Passel of dignitaries
At the state capitol
She had woken early
As flowers
The bird fluttering
Wings of her eyes
Rising softly like bird’s legs
Wading in the soft wet earth
Of memory
She was dressed for
Her special day,
Soft colors like spring clouds
Spreading like a wet dress
In the sun
It was an award
In a frame that was
Given to her and several
Others in her community
An accommodation
To be cherished, to be
Hung on the wall
Where so many
Stories are written, yet
Untold, unsaid, unseen
After the award was
Given, she was
Shuttled to a room
For a luncheon
And she looked at the bounty,
Picking up bits of food
With fingers burnished with
Struggle, survival and fire
And she stopped
For a moment
And it was there,
A decanter swelled
With tea
Cool tea with
The sun hitting
At an angle
Jazzie, the woman
From Memphis, who is far
Away from that place yet
So present
Looks at the dark
Tea, that river
Flowing across her skin,
Whose steeped ripples extend
Across her heart
The song
Of sweet
tea
(Photo by Christopher Cook)