24/30 Shining Star

The year I turned ten St. Louis was a recent memory
Georgia red clay under foot mass exodus
to the black mecca of the south I was transplanted.
That year I became a southern bell
scraped knees and too thin.

Music was my everything in those days
my transistor in my pocket shaky reception grooving.
I wore ponytails back then and plastic shoes chasing down
the ice cream man in perfect rhythm.

School days filled with southern drawls that made me question
the English language the letter “r” in words where they did not belong.
The subtle differences of being black in the south
my northern fighting on playgrounds a different kind of civil war.

There seemed to be more sky here more future and forever.
Our roots the same growing in different dirt reshaping our tree.
I used to sit in the window listen to the city sounds my boom box tuned in.
While Earth Wind and Fire sang me into the world.

You're a shining star
No matter who you are
Shining bright to see
What you could truly be