I am the beadsman, sold into profession, by an ounce of circumstance
Once a swimmer until my leg broke
Once a fisher, but the fish swam faster than me
I listened to the sun as it sank, on my youth, dissolving quickly, orange sugar behind veil
And wondered how it was, I felt nothing for everything
I am the beadsman, came by this life as a bird comes by worm, wriggling out as rain hits earth
Turning what was dark, into caramel storm, such is the road I began, and it forked, gently like an accident, leaving nothing to chance
My father inherited this blood, wasn’t born, wasn’t his way
Came as a religious man to Africa, made the beads his faith
This is the inheritance that sits for me on the thin branch
Watching the way I live my life until it is time
To take my place where he once sat
No bead is identical, even children know that
(2014).
“No bead is identical, even children know that”
Very well written 🙂
Wonderfully whimsical!
“I felt nothing for everything” This is very powerful. The entire poem, really, but that line is ado strong.
*so strong*
Chance and adaptation, life surprises, but the path is made of choices. Though he may take his father’s place, he is not his father. There is an openness in his future. his own, unique.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – a story not ended
Is this published in one of your many books? <3
Love this. I have always loved beads; collect them! For no apparent reason except that I resonate with them and think they are magical and cool….
Me too 💓
Wonderful, powerful writing, Candice! As always. 💕
I wonder if they were healing beads cleansed in gingili oil…
An apt restraint here, projecting a character.