Never Look Down

Raindrops in life don’t always feel light,
Sometimes they come hard and feel like razor blades against my skin,
Ricochet by the wind like a bullet from the caliber of a gun,
But, grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

Busy city streets,
Taxi’s passing by as swift as the smoke from a cigar,
I’m mistaken at times as one for easy sex as if I’m some rap video chick…despite my brief case and swagger,
Called out of my name for the refusal to give in to the pressure,
Being a black woman doesn’t automatically mean I am easy…I must maintain my identity,
Grandmother always taught, no matter the cost…never look down.

For she said…a woman who can tell you more about what lies in the dirt than what lies in the skies where eagle’s wings fly…may not necessarily know their truth self-worth.
In spirit…she would add as she smiled,
I look at the scars on her face from segregation in the 60’s, for not bowing down to the low state of men,
Thinking her position was either lying on her back, or serving in the kitchen.
Grandmother taught me…never look down.

I’ve learned to appreciate the value God intrinsically placed in the whiteness of my smile,
In the deep caverns of my eyes, in the texture of my skin…holding myself close like a warm cup of mocha when the weather’s chill rest upon my window seal.

No matter the cost…I won’t look down.
I will hold my head up high and not let either failure or what other people say or think, be the modern day noose around my neck.

I am free both in body and in spirit…no matter the cost, I will never look down.

Written by Savaslas Lofton
c.2009