Reflections

I did some self reflecting today. I flipped through my journal and read my thoughts from over the past year. The tables have turned quite drastically and much has transpired. It amazes me how the power of words can paint a picture so vivid and conjure intense emotions though they lay lifeless on the paper. I leaped right back into the moments I described just as if it happened an hour ago. My life is extremely colorful; I wouldn't trade this journey for anything. I will keep all my victories, laughter and wisdom. I will keep all of my heartache, tears and bruises. I embrace every peak and valley, and every ocean and small stream in its entirety.
Thankfully, I write these wonderful occurrences down in my sugar and spice notebook.  During my reflections today I stumbled across November 22, 2013, "No More Flowers." Yes, all of my journal entries have titles. This is the story of my life, why would they not? This particular entry was a poem. I have been intrigued with writing about nature for a while, but especially flowers, the sun and butterflies. Flowers can serve a great metaphorical and literal meaning in literature. I always use both when I write about this beautiful gift of God.

"What happens when the flowers stop?
When their warm embrace loosens and floats away.

No more daisies in the spring or black-eyed Susans bunched around,
And no more sunflowers in the summer.

No more roses in red, white, pink, yellow, or soft autumn orange.
Nothing but the thorns left that pricked my heart.

I cry and melt away as far as I can from the pain
Because there are no more blooming bouquets to brighten my day."

Clearly, this was a valley moment. Even though the flowers stopped for a season, I was able to move on. The tides in the ocean have changed and the sun has risen in a new hour. I decided to buy some fresh, new flowers today and all is well with my soul!

Writer's block

Why'd I stop writing you ask.

You see, I had a severe case of writer's block.
An astronomical something that made my creativity devoid.
It wedged itself in the middle of my flow,
Clogging and slowing the natural occurrences of my metaphoric melodies.
It bluntly halted my hyperbolic references to simple sentences.

You see, I had a severe case of writer's block.
It formed icicles where rhymes spouted freely
And a mass glacier over my zeal for words.
Repetitive thoughts not worth writing down
And a redundant life that brought forth no fruit.

You see, I had a sever case of writer's block.

I let go of my therapeutic remedy.

Out of the mind and onto paper where concepts become concrete;

Emotions released and the heart lightened. 

My favorite past time forgotten
And the joy of sitting in the windowsill with pen and pad lost. 

The words ceased.

I stopped writing.

I had a sever case of writer's block. 

He said, he said

He told me I could not love enough
I could not fill his emptiness
I could not match his pride with my lukewarm affection
I could not love enough with my smiles

Secure hugs were no replacement for insecurities

My love was not big enough in actions
My love was not loud enough in words
My love was not enough

There was a slow leak in the tire and every so often I’d stop at the pump or buy a can of fix a flat
Buying myself some time because replacing tires is expensive
That old car was too expensive to fix, too costly to get rid of, and held sentimental value because I invested my life into it

The mileage was beyond what the odometer could read
Oil was leaking and the car kept overheating
The seats were ripped and the interior stained beyond cleaning
A few broken lights and of course the tags were expired

No insurance
No more romances or innocent joy riding
Love and marriage were not in waiting for a faithless love
No more patience in an unforgiving heart
No sweet sound of laughter and no growth

He told me I could not love enough
I could not be the mother of life regardless of my genetic make up

My love was not big enough in actions
My love was not loud enough in words
My love was not enough

So I put the key in the ignition and jiggled three times
I shook the steering wheel two times and pumped the gas five times before it would turn over
I knew the end was near and I could not sustain it, nor could it sustain me
The engine gave out and I could not love it anymore

(Circa May 2013) 

Triumph

Tenaciously striding through this endangered world, I am a glamorous species of hope with unwavering faith in what I must know. Wisdom bestowed upon me from beyond the highest element of life, and from the lower morsels of human affliction. I dare to dream through it all.
Reclined and looking up to the blues of infinite possibilities, I commit myself uprightly and just.  


1/7/2013

The Cover-Up

I'm trying to makeup, but it just doesn't make since
Because I can't cover up the cover-up.

Cappuccino number eight to brighten my imperfections.
Purple maniac to give a sparkle to this hue of depressing blue.
Electric eel with a satin finish so you can't see the rough spots.
Number twenty-four makes a brotha stare at the lip gloss
And his girl give the head toss because she's mad.

I've concealed my rotund darkness with a natural tone.
My Queen collection doesn't have me feeling like royalty today.
And MAC better give me my money back,
Because this cover-up ain't covering up like it's supposed to.
Layers of a faulty foundation,
There are too many ways to apply these products.

Years of practice and I'm still no professional.
The rouge does not accent my cheekbones
Which never move from their sad position.
My mascara is running a marathon and volumizing my distress.
Yet, I must reapply and move forward with the cover-up.

A little more adhesive to bring out my eyes,
And some adhesive to mend this brokenness.
Natural beauty is a thing of the past.

So, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Then I can't be certain of what I see.
If eyes are a window to the soul,
Then my life story is an open book for the average browser.

This mineralized skin finish is purely cosmetic.
It will eventually fade while the pain still radiates through my pores.
Perhaps two coats of cherry bomb red to hide my nervous condition
Because this cover-up ain't covering up like it's supposed to.

(Circa May 2013)

What if?

What if my family never moved from Jackson?
What if I never left Lansing?
What if I attended that college I desperately sought after?
What if I chose not to attend college?
What if I let a lack of finances dictate my life style?
What if I were never self motivated?
What if no one ever believed in me or encouraged me?
What if I never attended Upward Bound?
What if I completed studies in architecture, psychology, or sociology?
What if I never pledged Delta?
What if I never loved?
What if I never lost love?
What if I were a product of my environment?
What if I never had Mount Zion?
What if I fell to teen pregnancy?
What if I fell to substance abuse?
What if I were never strong enough to make my own decisions?
What if I never left Atlanta?
What if I were married and started a family?

Where would I be? I am not sure, but those are not questions I have to answer. I am living with no regrets and I urge you to do the same.

My storyboard

Currently, my life is like a storyboard template with sketches and incomplete sentences. Ideas strewn about trying to create a big picture, but nothing quite coming together. Random occurrences and ill thought out plans to create a future of some sort, a future uncertain to present hopes. I keep reorganizing the ideas, but there is no natural flow pattern for this particular storyboard. The plot is generic and has lost its tenacity to reach a climatic point that preludes the dynamic ending. This story could take several courses, yet I am assured there is only one predestined outcome. Creativity is a struggle. The gift of choice and decision comes with great burdens and time sensitivities. How do I organize this storyboard and decide what makes it into the final script? Whatever this production transpires will be the story of my life. Stay tuned...