Part I: Conception

[This piece is dedicated to my daughter Melia Gabrielle, a dream on July 4th, 1997 that five years later became my sweetest reality on October 11, 2002. ~ DR]

In my drop top,
stars as a backdrop,
bombs burst in the air
above the parking lot.
Elevated in consciousness
and purposely alone.
Turn off my phone.
Full grown in a zone,
composing,
conceiving you,
my child-to-be,
first of three.
Sprouting from possibility
in the richest soil
of my fertile mind.
Heaven sent baby
you are divine,

Unbeknownst to me
you were lounging about
in between my ears,
above my tears,
to the right of time,
on my mind.

Awaken by jarring blasts
from etemal bliss
brown baby surges forth
out my subconscious
through the realm of dreams
onto my conscious mind.
On my mind.

You’re not crying.
Is that the sign
for me to mentally
smack your behind.
I apologize my child,
that’s the last time
your daddy ‘s gonna
cross that line.

Are you girl or boy?
I don’t care to know,
I do know though
that I care deeply,
quite concretely,
so completely for you.

Evading pain and strife,
consider you in choices
instrumental in my life,
e.g., selection of a wife,
chosen to be queen bee
of this hive. I shall strive
to shower her with love,
bath her in integrity,
caress her with honesty.
After all it seems to me
prior to the arrival,
through my lady,
I send love to my baby.

Yeah there’s gonna be
a honey-wife in my life.
Don’t fret yet,
I’ma get you a cooool
one helluva a mama.
A real chill karma,
down-to-ride vibe,
and we ain’t even talkin’
I ain’t said nothing
about the upside.

Instinctively,
she will shower you with love,
bath you in integrity,
caress you with honesty.

Trust me, its true
thinking thoughts of you
fills my cup to the brim.
Far from a whim,
I’ma go the distance
to ensure a win.

Trust that I will love
and nurture you
from mental conception
to sexual conception
to birth to child to kid to teen
to young adult to king or queen
to wise adult to my demise
and to earth from heaven.
I will look over you,
before you , after you,
forever always
child-of-mine.

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