your lips are what dreamy kissers are made of
you have eyes that see the truth
the beauty in the places and people forgotten
you loved your mother, like the earth loved the sun
you are a man, that most men aren't
you wrote on your notebook
the stories that aced your heart
you painted yourself to the world and smiled
knowing
there will be critics and judges
but you cared only about the bones in the story
you are the politician and solider we miss
your notebook comforts me like warm milk at night
and gives me chills
like cold water down my back
you speak to me in
such a firm manner
trusting your story in my mouth
glad to see a man
treat a black sister as a partner.
Dedicated to a hero
Writer-Selam Misgano
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