Bop: The Day Gravity Became Optional

Stanza 1

It began with a rumor in the marrow.

A loosening in the ankles of the earth.

Keys slipped from hooks and did not fall.

Chains forgot the grammar of downward.

Grandmothers looked up from their kitchens.

Children laughed as their braids lifted like questions.

Someone whispered that the law of weight was tired.

We remembered we were never meant to crawl.

Stanza 2

On the shore where the captives once walked into the sea,

the tide held its breath and did not claim them.

Those Igbo who chose the water over the whip

rose from the foam clothed in salt and light.

They did not sink.

They stepped upon the Atlantic as if it were packed clay.

Across the Carolinas, elders told it plain

that the old ones spoke a word and lifted into sky.

Rice fields released their ghosts like startled birds.

We remembered we were never meant to crawl.

Stanza 3

Gravity folded itself like a tired overseer and went home.

The auction block grew lighter than pollen.

Courthouse steps floated loose from their foundations.

Every ledger unbound its ink into wings.

We felt the tug of ancestors not below but above.

Not heaven as escape but altitude as inheritance.

We rose without leaving one another behind.

We rose carrying drums, seeds, and unfinished names.

We remembered we were never meant to crawl.

© 2026 ALife Allah