A touch of African grace
embraces my soul
Black woman
hair corn rolled
reflects the cotton fields
where you strolled
toiling
underneath the red sun
where only God's street wine
serving as champagne
can quench your thirst
While you work
working toward a place
where the rough spots are smoothed up
And only you
know the secret of joy
where illusion
and self delusiion is
rendered helpless
Only in this search for self
can you find
a touch of African grace