LA Land Called South Central

 
I’m from an LA land called South Central, that is essential; The wind in me
is from a time when I had to run and had to rhyme; El Conejo is the name
that stuck, the lift in my lunge was a launch of luck; There was danger from
left to right, My momma had the surge to plot and fight; She taught me about
G,O,D as gorgeous objective divinity; Momma had dreams that she conceived,
I was raised to just believe; Belize, the origin story, mom migrated from there
in glory; when lookin’ in the mirror did she see a queen, a look that was crisp
and clean; Like Christina, she was a genie in the bottle and a look for America’s
next top model; Momma didn’t have a lot of money, but she had a heart full of
honey; Blue was her favorite color, a shade of truth that’s hard to muster; She
had a style, could dance and sing, she was tall in bravery like Yao Ming; Bob
Marley, The Isley Brothers, music she heard above all others; Mom was a blend
of sweet and spice, a chef who knew how to cook some rice; Her joy was fresh
and new, her favorite phrase was, “I love you;” She had a faith as clean as soap,
she was my Lamb and Light of Hope.

***

(Featured image from Wikimedia Commons)