Thursday, February 27, 2025

I STOOD

 






I stood.

I stomped.

Hard then harder

The ground crumbled beneath my feet.


I saw the frowns on faces

as they watched with confusion.

Assuming my rant was

A temper tantrum. I chuckled.


How dare she pitch a fit

She ought to be grateful being

Allowed to exist.

But it wasn’t a tantrum or a fit.


I encouraged the onlookers to look again.

I stomped and stomped even harder. 

The walls shook too!


Making gold took work and pressure.

But oh, my it was worth it! 

I was worth it!


When God made me, He gathered and pressed

dirt and crumbs; things that others saw as worthless.

Pressing, pressure molding and shaping!


I look in the mirror and belly laugh!

I know that the moles, and bumps,

The lumps and folds mixed with a touch of melanin,

were on purpose! That purpose made me on purpose!


Like fine wine can only be handled in small sips

No one can afford to get drunk off my essence,

because I’m meant to change lives,

but I must change me first.


So, bring your glasses and your curiosity. 

Sit awhile and dine with me as I prepare

a feast and as we dance until dawn

God will be the honored guest and

Praise will be the admission!


Photo credit: Muillu for Unsplash








Tuesday, January 14, 2025

THANK YOU!


I thought so little of myself that I let you trespass.

Walking carelessly through the places marked, ‘sacred.’

It was easy for you; you’d done it before in other places.

I endured the pain silently; thought it was what

I was supposed to do in the name of proving myself worthy.


You didn’t see the hurt in my eyes or the pain in my tears

Because I was being strong and patient, waiting

for you to turn and see me!

Eventually you did as you wiped my heart from your

feet and packed your things to leave.


I wasn’t the woman you once fell in love with, you said.

I’d changed, and you no longer recognized me.  

I could swear I saw a tear as you told me how you

dreamt I’d be your queen, but I’d failed the test and,

so, you needed to move on.


I watched as you packed your bags and then your car.

Standing at the door I wondered if you’d at least wave goodbye.

You didn’t you were in a hurry, and she was waiting impatiently.

Her jaw dropped as she noticed our similarities and the confidence left her eyes.

I mouthed two simple words as she continued to stare and with a smile I said,


“Thank you.”

Photo Credit: Bakir Custovic

Friday, December 6, 2024

THERE IS BEAUTY IN MY SCARS (LONG STORY SHORT SERIES)

 



“There is beauty in my scars,” she said, a woman who’d done battle in wars waged against her. She didn’t deserve them, and didn’t ask for them, but she'd faced down warriors ten times her size and won.


Now, she’s facing a world who still thinks it can try her and wear her down, and it will pay dearly for its foolishness. Her wounds are healing, some covered with discolored skin. Yet her scars are medals of valor and honor and purple hearts; her silence does not mean weakness. It means she is taking notes and strategizing knowing that the best battles are won in silence.


“There is beauty in my scars,” she repeated, and there is beauty in yours too! I’m not the only one who’s done battle, you have too! I know pride can hold you in denial but you’re missing the beauty and the blessing. It’s okay to cry and wonder why me; no shame in those tears my sister, absolutely none.


Tears, and scars, lies, and questions why, while life goes on and so does the battle. I am a woman, old, new, and dealing with the consequences of both. I hurt and pretend that I don’t, I struggle with balance as I navigate and participate in my own renewal. But I am here.


No more apologies for the space and the air that I occupy, and I accept that life will bring sorrow and joy, and it will leave wounds and scars and it’s okay because, there is beauty in my scars. God made me and he sees me, and each scar is simply a brushstroke and an image of his handprint, that says, I’ve been kissed and loved by the very One who made me.


“Yes, there is beauty in my scars! Lord, I thank YOU for the scars!” Hallelujah and AMEN!


Photo credit: Actionvance for Unsplash





Wednesday, December 4, 2024

I AM THE ONE

 





I am the one you dreamt of and when you became a man, I am the one you prayed for.

Your pleas to the Lord spoke me into existence and I am here.

Every king desires a queen but what will he do when she comes?


I am the one conceived and birthed from my mother’s womb to birth your future.

Why do you look at me and not know me? How can you see the promise and run?

Every king must be fearless willing to do battle for what is his!


I am the one who has loved you, waited for you and cried when you called me by another’s name. I want to come home to that place in your heart that has never been lived in.

My king would receive me with open arms and a smile.


You are the One that belongs to me ordained and created but will you accept the gift?

Don’t you remember the pleas and the prayers? God heard, and he answered.

Where is your courage and where is your sword?


The demons are waiting to be slaughtered for they too need a king.

I stand before you, arms open with a smile, and you know who I am.

I am the One, a manifestation of your dreams and your prayers.

I beseech you to take my hand, greet me with a smile and welcome me home!


Photo Credit: Rikonavt for Unsplash


Sunday, November 24, 2024

GROWING OLD




Looking at the world with yesterday’s eyes

while the mirror advocates for the present.

Bones engaged in idle chatter stating their case 

for caution.


Knowledge, like stones around my neck.

Minds and ears closed to what I have to say.

The snickers of onlookers set the cadence

for their feet marking their future path

like it or not.


Curly nappy hair my crown

Deep chocolate skin not so bad after all.

Existence validated by itself.

Running weathered, boney fingers

through my glory I remember the past

 or was it just a dream?


The future and present now melded as one.

All that I ever wanted and did not receive

I now know I did not need.

Blissfully content with the wisdom of age

Fear, where is thy grip? I am what I am and 

that’s just fine.


Humored by my youthful foolishness

Resolved now to never know it all.

So much to share, to say but no one to listen

and so, the wheel will continue to be reinvented.

Knees will be scraped on the same old rocks

and life goes on.


So many yesterdays remembered amidst the clouds in my mind.

So few left that remember, and the young

have no time or desire to listen. 

The whispers and snickers are mine now

as the foolish mingle past headfirst into the

unknown.


Photo credit: Danie Franco for Unsplash


Saturday, November 16, 2024

MY HEART STILL BEATS

 



MY HEART HAS TAKEN A BEATING

RAVAGED BY DEEP FISSURES OF PAIN

BUT IT KEEPS BEATING.


MY HEART HAS HOLES LEFT EMPTY

 DISCARDED AND FORGOTTEN

BUT IT KEEPS BEATING.


THROUGH THE SHRUGS AND MISSED HUGS

THE LIES AND THE CRIES

IT KEEPS BEATING.


SCARS WHERE SOFTNESS SHOULD BE

LORD HAVE MERCY ON ME!

MY HEART KEEPS BEATING.


DOES ANYONE HEAR MY DESPERATE PLEAS?

I’VE FALLEN AND I WANT TO GET UP

THROUGH IT ALL MY HEART BEATS.


THROUGH THE CALLS THAT DON’T COME

I WONDER IF I’M THE FORGOTTEN ONE.

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR MY HEART STILL BEATS.


BRUISED ROUGH EDGES WHERE SOFTNESS SHOULD BE

DEEP CRACKS, AND VALLEYS, GOD SEES ME.

AND MY HEART, CRACKED, BRUISED STILL BEATS.


HIS LOVE IS SENT THROUGH THE KINDESS OF STRANGERS

UNEXPECTED MOMENTS OF TENDERNESS AN ELIXIR

AND SO, MY HEART STILL BEATS.


WHEN I THINK NOBODY CARES

MY HEART STILL BEATS.


ALMOST OVERCOME WITH FEARS

MY HEART STILL BEATS.


WHEN THE TEARS COME LIKE A FLOOD

MY HEART STILL BEATS.


GOD SENDS HIS ANGELS

TO CARE FOR MY HEART.

HE BREATHES LIFE IN THE DARK PLACES

AND WHISPERS HIS LOVE LIKE FRESH WIND.

AND MY HEART STILL BEATS.


IT STILL BEATS

BECAUSE HE MADE ME


IT BEATS BECAUSE HE IS NOT FINISHED WITH ME YET.


IT BEATS, ON PURPOSE

FOR A PURPOSE

HIS PURPOSE.


AND I’M GRATEFUL AND

HOPEFUL THAT WITH EACH BEAT

I AM MADE STRONGER

WISER

BOLDER

AN OVERCOMER.


EACH BEAT

MEASURED IN PERFECT SYNCHOPATION

IT BEATS

GOD’S DRUMBEAT

HIS TIME

MY HEART

STILL

BEATS.










Thursday, October 24, 2024

WROTE IT

 




You wrote it, I lived it.

You took the credit,

I felt the pain.


You forgot I was here

But that’s not the worst part.

I forgot too. 


Didn’t remember that I mattered.

Instead, I bought the idea

I was an accessory.


Excessive, tossed and turned out.

About in the world alone when

I thought I had company.


Foolish I know, right?

You wrote it, I lived it,

died by it and refused to

admit the pain.


Photo credit: Louis Galvez for Unsplash


Wednesday, October 23, 2024

Lessons Learned

 



Lessons must be learned.

Teachers, the things, and those unexpected.

But the lessons will be learned.


Abandoned at birth.

Rejected as life grew us up.

We never knew what we didn’t know.


Lessons taught at great sacrifice.

The student unwilling, unknowing.

But the lesson was learned.


Knees bruised; hearts broken.

Life the canvas, with no erasers.

Learning through pain our value.


Lessons will be learned.

Taught, denied, ignored.

But they will be taught.


Life is lessons created.

In the dark to be taught in the light.

To be walked out, lived in.


The moment.

The miracle.

The disaster.


So, don’t stop living.

Life is a lesson, and it will be taught.

Taught whether you pay attention...


...whether you like it or not!

 
Photo Credit: Blake Cheek for Unsplash

Tuesday, October 22, 2024

HIGH PRAISE!

 




Out of time outs!

Time to come back to church.

Time for high ignorant praise!


I took the liberty of referencing my holy ghost Webster’s and this is what I found on the definition of High Ignorant Praise:


That high ignorant praise: (Adj. Verb and a Noun)


High Ignorant Praise is that thing that has been shut up in your bones for far too long and NOW

You are ready to let it go!


That praise where you just don’t care who’s watching or 

what anybody is thinking or how you’re looking.


High ignorant praise is that ugly cry

when your face is contorted, your mouth is open

Showing all your teeth! 


It’s that run around the church

on bad feet and bad knees praise, 


It’s the act of being willing to risk

the heels on your new shoes or the corns

squeezed into those new shoes!


It’s time for some high ignorant praise!

Let’s get ig’nant, just plum crazy for the LORD!

Just because.

Just because he woke you up (yesterday and today)

Just because you can!

Just because it’s due!

Just because it’s time!

Because he saved your life

from sin, from things...


It’s time to stop wondering if its time.

Praise Him! Ignorantly, fanatically, ugly, loud!

PRAISE HIM!


Photo Credit: Akra Hojo for Unsplash

Monday, October 21, 2024

Brand New

 



“...and then I realized that my tears did not make me weak. 

They merely watered the ground where I stood;

the place God had chosen for me to take root, 

and grow, 

and become...

new." 


-Whispers From A Brown Girl

Tuesday, October 8, 2024

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE A ROCK


 

You thought you were a rock until

Life like a hammer hit you hard

and broke you to pieces.


But you weren’t destroyed, 

You were changed,

and the pieces that you

have become are possibilities,

and blessings and second chances

to start again.


Photo credit: Jachan Devol for Unsplash

Tuesday, September 24, 2024

Was That My Heart Breaking?


 







I heard the noise, breaking the silence sounding like fireworks.

Was it the dawn crashing the darkness of night as day claimed its place?

Was it the clapping of hands to music that touched and warmed and made my feet move?


No, it was none of those things; it was my heart breaking.

Shattering in a million pieces and sticking to the ground as a reminder that the memory of what has happened cannot be blown away by the wind.


It was my heart, that thing that used to beat on purpose, and on time for you; because of you.

Now I must beg it to beat, and to keep pounding. 

Your absence has made things that used to be reflex, impossible.


I heard the noise it broke the silence like fireworks. 

I'd felt comfortable in the silence assuming I'd see you again.

Silence now only means sorrow. 


Your life was important only to me it seems and there are no more heartbeats, no more songs no more clapping of hands or feet dancing to your beat.

What was that sound, the cracking, the booming, ear-piercing noise?

The noise...that noise...cracking, 

and booming 

like fireworks

was my heart, 

breaking!


Photo credit: Claude Wolff for Unsplash



Friday, August 23, 2024

CHELSEA'S MORNING (LONG STORY SHORT SERIES)



 

Chelsea began each day sitting quietly on her second-floor patio. The early morning sun greeted her like an old friend and the small sparrows nodded hello as they retreated from their spots on the wooden banister.  


Her seat gave her a bird’s eye view as the world walked by totally unaware of her presence; men, and women hurrying past rushing to jobs and tasks that gave their otherwise meaningless lives purpose. It always seemed odd that very few looked up to notice her. 


In her mind, Chelsea created lives for the strangers adding new chapters each morning. Like Alejandro and Odell, not their real names of course, who stepped off the bus and headed down the sidewalk toward the wharf every day. Alejandro first then Odell, strangers who’d followed this routine for years without ever acknowledging each other. Chelsea imagined the two as lovers pretending to be strangers; in the evenings, the two would meet in some secret place and make love well into the night falling asleep in each other’s arms until the next day demanded they begin their ruse again.


Alejandro was a mariner; his dark leathery skin told her as much; the lunch box and thermos was a necessity for the long day at sea. He’d fished on the endless seas for years supporting himself with hard labor on a boat he did not own. Odell followed the man until he reached the corner. As he glanced both ways before crossing the street, she pulled a key ring from her purse and let herself inside the small seaside bakery. Chelsea assumed that the woman had named the place, Chloe’s after her only child, a sweet but spoiled little tyke with long coarse pigtails. The older woman had dreams of the girl running the shop one day, but the girl had other plans choosing instead to become a doctor on the other side of the country.


The room smelled of yesterday’s pastries, coffee and sandwiches and the woman made her way through the dimly lit room to the light switch near the kitchen entrance; the hum of the florescent lights buzzed seconds before the room lit up. Like every day before, she grabbed the apron, slipping it over her head as she stepped past the curtain into the kitchen.


Chelsea swallowed the last few drops of her coffee as the street below grew quiet. It was time to release Alejandro and Odell from her imagination and begin her day. With one last glance at the street below she exhaled and went inside. 


The morning morphed past the afternoon into early evening; Chelsea stepped onto her patio again, this time with a glass of wine in one hand and a small plate of meat, cheese, and crackers in the other. Just like earlier she watched the people below rushing to beat the sun before it disappeared below the horizon and relinquished its duties to the moon. 


Chelsea closed her eyes for a moment as the cool air brushed across her skin. Then she opened her eyes just in time to see Alejandro cross the street at the corner. She noticed him glance slightly toward the bakery as he passed. Moments later, Odell stepped out of the bakery, locked the door, and headed toward the bus stop just a few steps behind the handsome fisherman.


The two were good at ignoring and pretending not to know each other Chelsea chuckled to herself as her imagination took over.  The sound of the bus swishing to a stop caused Chelsea to stand and lean slightly over the rail to get a better view as the passengers boarded. Alejandro and Odell were the last to board. 


Alejandro glanced back at the petite woman, even from where she stood, Chelsea could see the twinkle of approval in his eyes. Stepping aside and offering his strong hand, he helped her on. Nodding her thanks, the woman smiled and disappeared down the aisle. Chelsea smiled knowingly wondering if there was more to her wild imaginings than she thought.


The bus doors closed as Alejandro also disappeared down the narrow aisle. Chelsea wondered if the man would have the nerve to sit next to the woman or would their game continue. Tomorrow, she’d have to wait until tomorrow to learn more or to draw her own conclusions. Whatever the case, life would go on and perhaps even love.


To be continued...


THE END


Photo credit: Anna Keibalo for Unsplash