With the reluctance of a nested
fledgling testing her wings,
I turned the final page in
Brown Girl Dreaming.
The poetic memoir born of
Jacqueline Woodson’s days,
her remembering
her seeing
her questioning,
has this girl
wondering what is in me to
uncover,
overcome,
embrace.
How far back was the seed of wordsmithing
planted in my appetite?
And what of its root?
The notion that I could
that I should pick up
pen and paper,
set fumbling fingers to keyboard,
wrestle with what was and is,
to set it in words? (more…)
