Unlike the other woman-

Unlike the other woman-

IMG_5471

“But I love you,” he said.
And I wondered where he got the notion that saying the words “I love you” was akin to an eraser which wipes off a slate of past mistakes; a chant which hypnotises one into prompt obedience regardless of the absurdity of the orders; a piece of blindfold over a woman’s eyes to block off the reality of events.

Or maybe, he just assumed I am like the other woman who had come and gone. A blooming soul withered by a facade of love, fed on sugar coated words which tasted like nothing- nothing- a compilation of meaningless gestures- suffocating.

And maybe (cause I can only assume as mama always said speak for yourself alone) he was fed on the notion that love is blind, love is an eraser and love hypnotises in the hands of a man.

But honey, Living has taught me, you can scream I love you until the oxygen carrying capacity of your lungs deplete, without sincerity in action, it don’t mean nothing. Call me cynical, but living otherwise would have me ending up just like the other woman. A washed-up replica of a once upon a time star. 

Advertisements
Day 9: Close to her bosom

Day 9: Close to her bosom

image
Some women hold stories,
Close to their bosom;
Stories so grave,
they believe,
It could cause a ripple effect,
And upturn the balance of life,
If repeated.
My mother- was one such.

She’d sigh at length and go off,
Staring,
Into space…
Oblivious to three munchkins,
laying on the ground,
Competing,
Who’s got,
The healthiest lung.

She’d go off sometimes,
At the sight-
Of a man in a red shirt,
Or a yell across the street,
Or something so little as,
An innocent question put forward,
By a kid.
My father would say-
Just let her be.

And so I grew older-
Mastered in the art of
Threading lightly;
Till my curiosity,
got the better of me;
And I questioned-
Why does she do that?

That summer morning,
I learnt of the horrors,
Of a young black girl,
Growing up with little to nothing,
At the edge of the sea;
Where being a dark skin,
had a price and being a female-
A burden.
And I knew why, she held those stories
Close to her bosom.


Prompts: Day 9 (a story), Day 10 (Summer). This poem is in response to December Poetry Challenge. 31 poems in 31 days.

the above picture is courtesy of Legend.az

Writer’s Quote: Inspiration

Writer’s Quote: Inspiration

image

“Sometimes in life you are put in a test, not because you are giving up, but to realize your worthiness”

Someone typed the above quote into my search terms a while ago and I felt an obligation to write on it. Dear whoever searched for this, I don’t know who you are or why you are searching for quotes on this, I don’t even know if you are a real individual or just one of these cyber trolls, I don’t know if you’re searching for a consolation or just a reminder; but I am glad you typed this in and gave me something to sleep and write on.

Hell and back was a statement,
She once heard in a song,
And she wondered how a human,
Could survive that chaos;
But, he did, as he wrote,
In lyrics, word by word;
And she admired such bravery,
To go through hell and back in one.

She was ripe with innocence,
Seeing life through colored lens;
Deemed a frail little Barbie,
And she molded to its form;
That was until life took charge,
Throwing lessons non stop;
Till she thought death was better,
Cause living couldn’t be that tough .

At the brink of despair she found,
The strength within to hold.
And discovered, even barbies,
Have their bone made of tough stuff;
Now when she hears “hell and back”,
Her lips curve upward,
In remembrance of a girl who trudged,
Through hell and was back stronger.

I wrote the above poem a while ago and thought it befitting to share on Writer’s Quote  Wednesday Writing Challenge.

Writer’s Quote: Hugh Laurie

Writer’s Quote: Hugh Laurie

image

Yesterday, I posted a poem about “truth being a bitter pill to swallow” which was inspired by an event that occurred with my sister. I rarely share the inspiration behind my posts, but this time, I want to make an exception.

My sister and I were conversing and she pointed out a certain flaw I struggle with; of course being me, I got defensive. It wasn’t until later on that I realized what she was trying to say. She wasn’t condemning me, merely stating a fact.
Now, this certain flaw is something once I became aware of, I try my best and go out of my way to overcome it.

I am not where I want to be in regards to it, but those who matter in my life know, I have come a long way from where I was. They know I try and If I was a zero few years back, I am a 6 now. Which even though is not a 10, it’s certainly better than being stuck at that zero.

We all have things we struggle with and traits we’d like to change, but the truth is- knowing our flaws and overcoming them are two different things. It’s not enough to say “okay I know that”, we’ve got to try to change it. Now I realize, there is no need to get hot headed over certain things. Change is a gradual process which doesn’t happen overnight. The fact that we are trying makes all the difference and those who matter in our lives know it.

This reminds me of a quote by Actor Hugh Laurie whom a lot you may know was the Genius sarcastic Doctor we can’t help but love- Dr Gregory House. He said,

-Time changes everything. That’s what people say, it’s not true. Doing things changes things. Not doing things leaves things exactly as they are.

Just thought I’d share an event which inspired me this week for Writer’s Quote Wednesday.

Mental Health Friday #19

Mental Health Friday #19

image

The cop came back into the living room where I was sitting, nursing my two and a half month old daughter. “The boy didn’t make it,” he said. “Ma’am, I need you to come with me.” I handed my baby girl over to her dad as I got up from the couch to obey the officer.

His words drifted through my foggy mind as I told myself, this is all just a bad nightmare— I will wake up soon. With no socks or shoes on my feet, I silently followed the officer out of my house not knowing that would be the last time I would ever exit that front door. Yet, I felt an unusual calm and peace enter my heart as I sensed that this was “my path” or “my destiny.”
Little did I realize my journey would lead me into years of torment and pain when the truth finally came crashing through my delusional head….
*****

I once had a previous life where I attended college full-time, studying business management. I held on tight to a 3.9gpa as I managed to make mostly straight A’s in my classes. I was officially divorced from the abusive “sperm-donor” of my happy little boy who seemed content without a man in the house. I smoked marijuana on a regular basis to help me with my terrible mood swings as well as to help me focus on my homework (which I started to find hard to concentrate on while sober).

Then a few years later, during my senior year of college, I became pregnant again with my daughter. I was excited and filled with joy at the opportunity to raise two children as a single parent. My daughter’s father was a good man that kids naturally seemed to flock to. My son adored him and in spite of our cultural differences, he accepted me and my son as family.

He helped me when he could; however, with his mother being in her late 70’s, he lived with her in an apartment across town to take care of her. As a result, we never officially “lived together” and this arrangement worked perfectly with my increasingly introverted self.

Then came the day that I started speaking in tongues (and no, I wasn’t at some radical church at the time). I was home alone with my two children. I also had an “internal interpreter” who could understand just what I was saying. I went to the bathroom to use the facilities and then I started to shout out a name. I heard my son saying “What?”
This happened about three times until my son opened the bathroom door and said, “What?” again.
“In the name of Jesus you shall flee!” I shouted at him from the toilet in English.
My son replied: “Goodbye.” Then he shut the bathroom door.

Once I got done in the bathroom, I went to check on my son. He was in his room holding a little ball. He told me,
“Mama, I tried to hit that boy with the ball, but he flew out the window.”
I knew then that a demon was trying to attack my son. Yet, I had a sense of knowing that this moth that was flying around in his room was actually that demon which transformed and it would be dead soon.

The very next morning, as I was nursing my daughter on the couch, my son came out of his room with the dead moth in his hand. So I “knew” the demon was gone… This initial experience along with my son’s statement and behavior started my trip into what most would call a very delusional and psychotic journey.
The command hallucinations held me like a puppet on strings for about a week doing various things to rid the demon from my son as I thought the voice in my head was God telling me what to do. For example, I started fasting and eating nothing, just drinking water. Read more