Pause; A little time and patience and prepping for change. It’s coming.

Pause; A little time and patience and prepping for change. It’s coming.

Your voice counts.

Your voice counts.

Weight

We worship the god of our parents. And we hope our love can save them, but the day grows dim and the air grows thick…

And we bow before the god of gratification wishing someone’s arms could save us, but memories rise and words strangle…

And we kneel before the god of war expecting each skirmish to deliver us, but the battle is lost before the fight begins…

So we panic before the god of chaos longing for when we lived out loud, but the paradigm constrains and we buckle under chains…

We rage before the god of fear demanding to know when nightmare ends, but we are struck midlife by the perils of the longest night…

So we crumple before the God of mercy hoping our words do more good than harm, but the way grows steeper and the sunlight fades…

Finally, we weep before the God of love reaching for a brighter future, but settling for a glowing afterlife.

Unraveling

Slumped to her left side, she stood about five foot eight with thick dark chocolate skin–the kind that had to be earned rather than inherited. She’s heading home not completely aware of where she slept overnight. Her memory remains erratic though the stench is constant. It’s the foul remnants of a lifetime of abusers, their clawed skin packed beneath her chipped nails like unwanted souvenirs.

She huffed, breathless with the congestion of early morning smog. She glared at the passing cars bitterly considering how she hates early mornings, the grimy air, the blazing sun, the noisy cars and their ugly passengers. At the light, a red-bone shoved her shades high on the bridge of her long nose. Thin, too dark lips twitched as their eyes locked. The poorest of the two lifted her head and averted her eyes so as not to be confused with a common bum. She’d taken all she would take from this life and the people in it. Likewise, she also had determined she had nothing left to give.

Traffic eased on. Realizing she’d missed her chance to cross, she rested her knobby hand on her jutting hip and wondered what caused cute people to paint themselves with ridiculous colors and cruise around town looking as if they have blackened eyes and bruises. They overstuff their overpriced wallets by the sweat of the underpaid. The hood calls them Uncle Tom’s but the average executive isn’t worthy to wipe the dust from Tom’s shoes let alone to be called by his name.

“No matter.” She spat and ran with her latest train of thought. Lunging into traffic, she hoped some driver would do her dirty work.

‘No luck. These no counts–‘ She eyed the cracks in the sidewalk. “Step on a crack; break yo’ mama back,” she hummed. Balancing on an unstable leg, she sprang to the nearest crack with the hollow laughter of one who is revelling  in the ending of a wasted life.

“Let that boyfriend of yours buy ice cream with my silver dollar.” Five decades of anger welled up within her and boiled over. With her last child–a step child–graduated and safely tucked way in college, she embraced her long awaited emancipation which had materialized on her horizon a dozen years ago.

Ignoring the sting that shot through her shin, she stamped again. “Let him burn me with matches.” She shook her fist in exasperation and lept forward ending with an unskilled pirouette. “Heard me screaming.”

Absently, laying her hand on the fifty- three ear old permanent scar, she caught her balance before continuing, each movement unfolding her pain.

“Let him cut my back open when I tried to save your life.” Stomp; grind.

“Told me I make you sick.” Step. “Ruined your life. ” Slide. “Tried to abort me. Daddy too.” Stamp. Stamp.

“Lied on me. Lied to me. Beat me for lying.” She clumsily lept from one crack to another.

“Said I’m ugly. Dumb.” Jump. “Stupid.” Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped from her chin and nose.

“Yelling. Cussing–“

Pausing to heave a breath, she looked to an imaginary companion. “Called me thangs she can’t even pronounce.” She swang her arm wide. “…But she one because she screwed herself.”

She doubled over in mockery and gripped her ashy knees, “Takes one to know one. Sorry sack of wet sugar.”

She’d made it to the gas station where a couple of her classmates, an ex, and a slightly greying caramel beauty who rocked huge afro puffs, paused their conversation to gawk. “My how the mighty have fallen,” she murmered in the direction of the broken before slapping her old friend on his back with her hand coming to rest on his Black Lives Matters logo. Unaware she’d even been noticed, the unfortunate journeyed on.

“Burned my food.” Stomp.

She struggled. Hop. “Called my baby black.” Slide. “Baby wasn’t even here yet.” Stomp.

“Ugly to me.” She choked back an unexpected sob, “Ugly to herself.”

She’d expected to be laughing by now at the meanest woman she’d ever known, but tears swirled into the sweat darkening her collar.

“Hate you.” Frantically, she surveyed the area for a confidante. No Christian. No ex. No friend. “Nobody. Neva no body!” she exclaimed. Vehicles whizzed by not knowing that she’d reached past the crescendo and planned on going out with a bang.

“Bang, Baby. Bang.” Tears welled as a giggle sprang. To emphasize, she folded her lips into her mouth to create a more perfect sound. “Bang.” This was the future she envisioned when she was prevented from creating the one she felt she deserved. Picket fence. Swimming pool. No dog.

A faint smile of satisfaction grazed her lips. “Hate you. Hate Earth.” Step.

“Hate you! Shouldna brought me here. Shoulda died.” Stamp. “Me and you.”

With her final shreds of sanity, she envisioned her mom walking in on her daughter sprawled across the couch. “Sprawl?” Somehow the word didn’t feel right.

“Spewn? …Strewn?”

“Croon to the prune; ’cause she gotta change the paper in the living rune.”

‘Hilarious. Not time to cry.’ Pause.

“Nope. Get my wings today. “

“So mad when she see them walls.” This was no joking matter. “Imma roll onna floor long as I can.”

” White rug red. Maroon and burgundy, I bled.”

She hopped onto another crack. “Making a mess because you made a mess,” she answered an unasked question.

About a half mile from home, her final hour was upon her. She wondered if she’d forgotten anything.

“Air up. Lights off. Bed made. Supper on da stove. Bread–microwave. Dishes–tub. Clothes on the line–ghost!”

‘Yep.’ Overcome, she squealed clawing at her attire. “Imma be a Ghost.” After getting a little rest, she intended to return as a ghost to watch over her kids.

“Clean that room.”

“Bleach that mop. Lights off. Air off.”

Tired of her childish voodoo, she ignored the cracks and made long purposeful strides. She pointed while issuing directions. “Stop fighting. Clean my car.”

She flicked a fingerfull of sweat at a carload of handsome young men. “Hate you! Never gone hafta beg nobody to treat me right again.”

“Love your sister! LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE!” Her throat ached.

“Call ya mama. Respect ya daddy.”

“Don’t leave mama.” She stopped suddenly dropping to her knees in the middle of the boulevard. “Didn’t finish loving you!” she shrieked incoherently.

“Leave the drugs alone, ya fonky tramp!” Someone’s grandpa yelled from a Delta ’88.

“I didn’t get to finish…” She banged her forehead on the hot grass. For a second, her mind clouded from the scent of the soil. She remembered making mud cakes as a child.

“Don’t eat dirt.” She knocked aside a gatorade bottle then lunged for it. “I didn’t love?” She asked tenderly her voice almost failing.

Looking up, she screamed to a BMW speeding towards the airport. “What’s love? I don’t know.” A fair-faced toddler stared, his grey eyes holding her brown ones as he pressed a chubby cheek against the window. “You know,” she jabbed at the air accusingly. “Tell me!” The seconds, however, had passed too quickly and all that was left of the fading vehicle was the exhaust that filled the emptiness. ‘Nobody loves me. Too ugly. Try too hard.’

She ripped out a clump of grass and shook it eastward as she thought of her assailants, their faces flashing before her. “Locusts.”

“Go to college. Finish school!” She clawed up handfuls of clovers. “Don’t. Leave. Momma!” She then clung to her scalp gripping the roots of her hair.

Shriek.

Run. Stomp. Jog.

Stop. Breathe.

Sob.

Stop. Look. Step.

“Walk like I taught you.”

Exhale. “Bled for this. Blood everywhere. Hair. Neck. My shirt. Soaked. The phone….” She looked down. She touched her hair. Pulled it too hard again. “All in the phone. All in my hair.”

She whispered, “Bled for you.” Inhale. “I did.”

Exhale.

Sweat stung. Tickled. Itched. “Trust nothing.”

Shocked at her own advice, she began to trot. Five hundred feet. More? “Less.” She sped up to the pace of the average young pedestrian. Sobs shook her upon finding the wrought iron bars unlocked. She turned the knob.

The icy air suffocated her as she attempted a beeline towards the washroom.

“Little 22.” She stroked the cold steel. Her fingers traced the pink and white swirled handle. “Pretty. Lil… Bang.”

She carefully formed the word as she’d practiced over the last twelve years. “Bang.”

She opened her mouth.

Bang.

The kids returned home and cried as expected. The preacher found all the words he could not find in her life. Her friends made time that they could never find when she needed a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold….

In a weekend, the kids cleaned the house. They emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the filter in the dryer. They wiped the bathroom sink, cleaned the tub, and picked up all the trash in the yard. They cleaned her car and cleared their hearts; but she could not come back, so they went back to their lives.

Strength

I recall how flabbergasted I was when a Highschool student attempted to compliment me by labeling me a “strong black woman”.

There is nothing warm and fuzzy about being forced to suppress your outrage and work gracefully in the face of injustice. I remember working the position of three people, up to ninety hours a week, without an increase in pay and no appreciation. When the dust settled, I was to be discarded like a worn rag.

There is no one to cry to because everyone has suppressed tears of their own. Sympathy becomes merely a creation of Webster as you realize that the bottom line is that no one cares. You watch helplessly as the delicate flower of youth is stripped from your daughters. You break inwardly. Though it was violently snatched from you, you have dedicated your life to protecting theirs. You’re not enough. All your efforts were in vain. They mainly need what you can’t possibly provide. Your air of confidence, grand bravado, and sense of accomplishment appear shallow, weak as a tepid pool. With trembling knees supported by bare and bloody feet, you have done your unclear duty on crooked, pebble-strewn paths. You peer into the future with dread as you send them off narrowly prepared for life at a disadvantage.

All the empty phrases in the world can’t spare them. Go ahead tell them how you believe in them and how the sky is the limit! In time, the thought will leave them feeling small and you looking foolish. Who knew about THIS glass ceiling that is seldom crossed? The world teaches that if you fail it is because of some flaw within you. I say this is not always the cause. We fail bc of obstinateness, but also because of submission. We fail because of a lack of indoctrination, just as we fail from flawed ideologies. We fall. Rise. Sometimes we fall again. The most important thing is…. what?

Laugh to keep from crying and survive until you can thrive again. Be relentless in your pursuits as long as it’s purposeful and worth your efforts. When the game changes don’t continue chasing pipe dreams once you realize your time and energy is misspent. All things come to an end; at which time, you must walk away. Leave people, places, and things better than you found them so that you may do so unapologetically.

Strength is more than suffering in silence with our heads up and shoulders back. We need to be able to derive part of our strength from being able to detach, turn, and venture on with eyes set on the horizon and whatever adventure lies beyond it.

A Profession of Love

 As I walked behind my daughter’s casket today, I witnessed the most disturbing sight beneath those bleak overcast skies. The asthmatic man who confessed his love for her, had to carry her to her grave. 

In my youth, I believed that love could conquer all; however as he trudged alongside the sleek silver box, the futility of a wasted life swelled before me. I wonder how often he lay awake carefully planning the future that he thought stretched before them. I remember analyzing his behaviour and dejected expression the first time I met him. He had the look of a kid who’s lost everything — every arrow head, marble, and Indian head nickel that he’d managed to collect since kindergarten. My heart broke again. Only this time, it was for his. 

How often do we invest ourselves in those who make light of our sincerity! We pour out our hearts upon and pour our spirit into people only to have them highly esteem someone or something that is completely outside of what we humbly offer. 

We shun the pallbearer for the one who can hardly bear to return a text and doesn’t even bother to show up to the funeral. 

#LoveWithoutLimits #GodIsGreater 

Wasted Summer

Slowly stumbling… sighing…
Absently kicking rocks
Feeling night fall around my shoulders
As the winds caress my locks
High in the night sky
Alone shining bright
Was the tiniest star
Issuing kisses of light.

Oh, how the night cared for me!
It cooled, comforted, and whispered to me.
Then hid me, calmed me, and set me free.
Till along came a stranger who peered at me.
“What do you mean, young lady, to traverse alone?
Have you no family? Neither house nor home?
Who will guide you as your journey begins
And protect the little lass from what wars within?”

I cringed: “No, sir…You must be confused
I need not man who’ll, my kindness abuse.
I’ll follow this high road beyond the bay
To pursue my dreams forever and a day.
Charting my own course–companionship despise…”
He moistened his lips and looked in my eyes.
“I know all the short cuts enroute to the city
All I ask is permission to accompany thee.

View my heart as it’s in your hands.
Resist as I may, I’ve done all I can.
I saw you at noon perched upon yon rock.
I heard you moan softly as your heart took stock.
I perceive you’ve been broken and battered before
Therefore hiding the key to your heart’s tiny door.
A most solemn vow you swore to the sunset
To dissever your heart though you haven’t yet.

I stand a man defying your freedom
Since you’ve captured my thoughts, I can no longer free them.”
I pondered a moment what he dared me embrace,
With a moment’s hesitation, I donned my poker face.
He spoke of pleasure in words without measure.
I teased him mercilessly with untapped treasure.
He tugged at my heart-strings like a fine tuned fiddle.
Though he played and delayed, he put his heart in this riddle.

By captivating speech, he arrested my attention.
With a flurry of words, he revealed his intentions.
Yet I had no confidence in this seller of songs
Who had all the answers of why love goes wrong.
He suggested our future promising the world
To his precious princess– his ebony pearl.
With my lips, I smiled and quoted clever lines.
That seemed to appease him and buy myself time.

What will I do with this handsome stranger
Who regurgitates gibberish inciting my anger?
What type of fool does he take me for?
With a run for his money, we’ll even the score.
I’ll teach him a lesson by arresting his game
Of promising sunshine in torrential rain.
I’ll enroll him in the school of collecting hearts
Cracking them open and picking the locks.

My heart was my own and settled at home
I’d no desire to ride or across this land roam.
I was summoned by love to board it’s cruise ship.
Captured; enraptured; and then let slip.
I despise a liar and the stories I’ve heard
Of little hearts being broken for trusting the words
Of a venomous beast and having great anticipation
Of dancing in the rain of love’s precipitation.

They’ve abandoned their parents, life, and vocation
Unaware of men’s whims and lust’s swift revocation.
If it’s a promise he seeks, then that’s what he’ll get:
A bitter promise to hold and never forget.
Then we spent our last night encamped by the sea,
The whisper of the waves kept troubling me…

Our twilight conversations had caused me to doubt
His motives and intentions that I’ve talked about.
Now we view, in the distance, the ebbing tide
As I sense, once more, on that ship I must ride.
With an uncertain heart, I cast my lot.
With a wave of my hand, I dispell my own plot.
Maybe I was mistaken, not judging rightly
The tales he spun of a love birthed nightly.

In the tempest of his conquest, could he have discerned?
By the power of insight could he have learned
The core of the Poetess where the blood flows warm
Who’s commitment’s been to honor rather than harm?
There divested, I , my character of the childish toy
Sensing the security of manhood, not the whims of a boy.
Then, I bared my heart, pouring out my soul.
Might we spare each other from a world so cold?

I expected, in honesty, he’d nervously start
Before venturing to confirm and sharing his heart,
How he’d reside with his bride hearalding the day
That we’d reign unrestrained with the devil to pay.
Yet, he held a charge that I couldn’t afford.
The last puzzle piece fell leaving me floored!
I’d been playing a game with no chance to win.
He sold me a song that I could believe in.

Craftily– Skillfully, he’d won me over
Seizing and snaring his potential lover.
When he tossed back my own words of what I didn’t need,
He assertively assured me he respectfully took heed.
Vainly, I scorned his stab at precision.
His disdainful chuckle mocked my indecision.
He maintained he’s a gentleman, respecting my wishes.
With a silly, silent curtsey, he impolitely dismissed me.

I cursed my name and the day of my birth!
I cursed him and our parents for all their worth!
I was still on the beach just across the bay!
It’s unimaginable how I got distracted this way!
The city holds promise to follow my dreams!
Now, all that’s left is a memory it seems.
I glared at the heavens and the rising sun,

I despised my life and all I’d done.

My emptiness was a weakness, I embraced my demise,
As I retrieved my little mask and gouged out it’s eyes.
I’ll no longer revisit how tears teased my lids.
My heart no longer flutters but does as I bid.
No more fumbling, bumbling, or missing steps.
No more hand ups or hand outs or pleas for help.
I’m tossing this heaviness to lighten my load,
Before making my exit at the very next road.

I can see the city and hear it’s sounds
Over the rustle of leaves as they dance on the ground.
Deciduous leaves had started falling
By signals from smokestacks, my future’s still calling.
Insolently conveying, “Come what may”.
Carpe diem. Yeah, seize the day.

Ballad of the Frozen Heart (Intro)

Step into my tundra;
Stroll across my barren lawn.
Pause inside my frigid foyer
Where we’ll converse until the dawn.

Slip across my icy tiles
Be uncharmed by ivory walls
Though the fire will beckon gaily,
Please beware its seductive call.

Perch upon my pristine sofa;
Graze the velvet of the chaisse.
There’s no warmth within these chambers.
Here, no warmth shall touch your face.

Inhale your cooling coffee.
You’ll want to stay alert
To catch all the intimate details
As my words your thoughts subvert

Dig deep. Discover the essence.
Find the source of things that be.
Take a moment, hone your senses.
In time, you’ll come to see

The bitterness of the Poetess
And why the winds winds blow free
Throughout the windowless mansion
That’s become a prison for me.

Reaching high upon the mantle,
I grasp the delicate case
And withdraw fistfulls of crystals
To fuel the fire that lights my face.

Through the hall my whisper tinkles
Afloat up an icy breeze.
I clutched his hand convincingly
And gently brought him to his knees.

Crystalized breath unchecked by heat
Embraced the flames incredibly fueled
By cracked and crushed salt-water pearls
From secret satchels exquisitely jewelled.

As I feed the fire of memories past,
We concentrate on my stoking art
With glimmer of alarm and initial gasp:
Know hence flows The Ballad of the Frozen Heart.