Kirkpatrick Street

Kirkpatrick Street

Searching for my earliest memory of music, I find myself on Kirkpatrick

“Doubledecker house” was the secret nickname I gifted my warm green castle

My mind extends a vivid memory, sitting on the carpet

Small head resting on my mother’s leg, my cheeks wet with tears

My tender scalp, anticipating when the combing, parting, and pulling will come to an end

Sneaking around in the background, beautiful black voices sharing the love they have for someone

Singing of a being who guides, along with rescuing in troubling situations

It wasn’t until I listened with a more educated mind that I realized

Their rescuer, the one who guided them was Jesus Christ, not a friend or significant other

After the realization, my mind finds deep beauty in lyrics, although they don’t resonate

Its the beauty in the way the words could slip right through my ears if I dont listen carefully