Baraka (Swahilii for Blessing)

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I start with a dark and unsettling truth,
my beloved and innocent youth,
my wellspring, my fountain, 
my one who rises, 
who climbs forth from caverns of unknowing
to stretch wings of understanding beneath the heaven
of an over arching sky,
iridescent rainbow throwing
with every raindrop magic child,
they still will not see you,
because fear despises such brave beauty.
​I will speak joy, 
I will speak honor,
I will speak love over your name​
The armor of God has been laid
beside the door
and you have strength to wield the sword
of truth, a heart beat strong
enough to strike the breastplate of righteousness like a bell
that tolls for all who hear its ring,
that stubborn and time packed earth may be shaken loose by its echoing,
calling forth the weak and wanting
to a reckoning, to awakening,
my child,
you are the storm unleash​ed
upon the world’s mooring
but I am a mother.
It is within my right to clothe you first
in softest blessing.
​I will speak joy, 
I will speak honor,
I will speak love over your name​
Refined by fire,
you stand purified, sanctified by divine
destiny spoken over your soul before you even came to be,
you were my prayer before you were my pride,
part of me, even before our cells divided 
into mother and child lion,
the sound of your name
will be a blessing,
generation upon generation.
The sound of your name
will be a blessing,
generation upon generation.