Jangolova epo motor.
It sways you, back and forth
To the edges of your narrow mind;
It throws you across surfaces,
Like water slamming up shores,
or gentle wind against the might of trees;
It tickles you—your feels
You giggle, but you want to cry
You sing, but you want to scream
It confuses you, this thing—this emotional swing
Jangolova epo motor, the voice in your head repeats,
And you take heed as you always do,
You jingle over, like a motor car;
The sound of your sorrow, a soothing lullaby
To the intimidating quietness that claims your world tonight.
“I learned that writing is the consolation prize you are given when you don’t get the thing you want the most.”
― Lang Leav,
NB: Jangolova Epo Motor is a chorus that myself and so many other children (and adults for that matter) of my time, up until recently, used to erroneously sing when swaying on swings. Apparently, the correct thing to chant is “Jingle Over Like a Motor”. I did not know. And even now that I do, my mind still finds comfort in the battered version– there is just something perfectly flawed, a safe-ness to the awareness it brings: that something can be wrong but still feel right. Often times, it isn’t about what what is but about how what feels.
© The Short Black Girl, 2017.