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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

AND THEN MORNING CAME

 

It was late.

The entire week had passed, and you hadn’t said a word.

You came and went as if I wasn’t there even as you grazed your shoulder against mine.

Our son was the witness…seeing how the only man he knew treated a woman.

This was your expression of love toward his mother…and mentally he took notes.

Then it was midnight on the seventh day, and you were ready to speak. 

So of course, you expected that I was too.  After all, the baby was down

the dishes done, and the laundry neatly folded in its place.

You’d mastered the art of saying a lot without really saying a thing.

You talked, I nodded and when you were finished, I noticed your bags packed and sitting in the dark corner near the door.

Your house key glistened on the table. I hadn’t noticed it before.

Perhaps the finality of your announcement made everything brighter.

“I’ll be back for the rest of my things,” You said.

I thought about the fact that you had convinced me to quit my job only days before

and we had to eat.  Your son needed diapers…milk…

It was odd that you had not mentioned those things in your ramblings.

“This time it’s you not me.” You said proudly happy to finally have the last word.

I saw you stuff the checkbook in your back pocket and the extra cash that we kept in the cabinet above the sink.

You thought of everything, except…

You forgot that I was strong. That I had been a survivor long before we’d met.

You forgot that you weren’t the beginning or the end of my world…just a part.

I knew love was never anything you understood or recognized.  

You wanted to be uncomfortable, angry, and so I was happy

that you had at last succeeded at something. 

And then it was morning. There was a knock at the door. It was Joy!

Photo credit: Sid Sun for Unsplash

DECEPTION

I stood at the sink facing the mirror terrified at the unfamiliar face looking just as terrified back at me.  It had been a long while since the two of us had spoken to one another.

Looking ahead and bending down I tried desperately to wash the taste of last night’s truths from my mouth. The bitter taste like the leftovers from a heavy meal had thickly coated my tongue and I used it as an excuse not to speak. 

I continued to look I hated what I saw had always hoped of being more still I wanted nothing to do with the truth.  What had I done to find myself here, alone, and disgusted? There was nothing to say.

Apologies seemed so vain; so futile, such a waste of time.  Yet, I needed to speak the words, I owed you that much.  I struggled to look again at you, still a stranger, still demanding answers from me.  “I’m sorry!” There just a whisper but the slight flinch told me that you’d heard.

“I’m sorry.” A little louder this time.  You didn’t believe it, neither did I since I was never one to apologize. Never one to back down or step up…it was a fact, my fact. My truth right there in front of me and I couldn’t deny it.

I’ve treated you poorly. I was supposed to be your best friend and you mine. I denied you and mistook you for the enemy shooting first and watching you fall dead at my feet. “Please forgive me!” I shouted, and my tears filled the sink before me.  Blood and tears, tears, and blood…mine, yours, ours.

I faced you the terror fading but still present. I saw the slight relief on your face too.  This had been long overdue, and it felt good to talk again.  I love you and I need you now more than ever to be my sister, my confidante, and my best friend…again.

Let’s keep in touch.

Photo credit: JD Mason for Unsplash

 

BUCKET-DIS

 

You’ve dropped your dreams in a bucket, covered them with dust, and doubt and time. Now it’s time to dig and pull them by the roots from that damp, dark place that has long been forgotten because fear has distracted you and made you forget that you had ever dreamed at all.

Photo credit: Photo by Pedro Da Silva on Unsplash

 

 

MOTHERS

 

Mothers 

We bear the burden,

take the blame and get none

of the credit.

We lose sleep,

worry and wear the wrinkles.

We fix our faces with smiles,

and cry silent tears in the dark 

when everyone else is asleep.

We are the armor bearers,

the prayer warriors, the advocates, 

the encouragers, and the secret keepers. 

We are the providers sacrificing ourselves

for the unknowing, the clueless and the ungrateful!

We’re mothers doing what we must at all costs 

not for the plaques, the mugs, or the flowers, 

but because it’s who we are, it’s our calling. 

It’s how we love-fearlessly, hard, nonsensically. 

Indescribable, unthinkable, and tirelessly! 

No, thank-you expected because we signed up for this. 

Not always knowing how or why. 

Not knowing that the bad days 

often outweigh the good.

What we did know was that our love was enough. 

It had to be enough to get us and them through 

the good, the bad, and the in between. 

Just love, it was both our superpower and our kryptonite, 

our greatest joy and our deepest pain.

But it’s who we’ve become. 

Birthing nations and futures and possibilities. 

God chose us and gave us everything needed 

to complete the assignment. 

Yes, we’re mothers a crown we wear with honor. 

We know who we are! 

We are Queens with earthly kingdoms 

located within the possibilities of our offspring. 

We are diplomats, negotiating peace 

as effortlessly as ordering pizza. 

We are doctors and lawyers without the degrees,

Fighting and slaying dragons on our knees!

We are Mothers, Slayers, and Prayers.

Leaping tall buildings and loving just because.

Knowing what others did not,

that God had chosen and equipped us.

Then breathed breath into or desires.  

Giving us the stamina to do the work 

that feels like joy and hope and 

all things good! 

Thank you, Lord for the Crown of Motherhood!

THAT GIRL

 

That girl!

Who rose from the ashes because she was the fire!

God blew on the embers of her possibilities.

and combustion happened birthing life to her dreams,

and smiles that fed those places in

her eyes that had grown dark.

That girl!

Who said no... no to surrender!

No to fear. Grasping instead life and love.

Loving the woman God created.

Seeing her flaws as fabulous and

seeing her tears as rain!

I’m that girl!! That girl is me!

Photo credit: Knight Duong for Unsplash

REMEMBER ME?

Hello,

I know you hear me. 

I’m the little girl who birthed your dreams.

Remember when you were invincible?

There was a time when fear was unwelcomed,

and, no, never existed. 

I need you to fight for me, the little girl,

who told you that dreams come true.

You are invincible and fearless!

Turn the no’s, into, now’s.

Wipe your tears with memories of yesterday.

Dance to the beat of my little girl’s heart.

Sing like angels dwell within you and

Dance like air is all you need to hold you up!

Photo credit: Michael Mims for Unsplash

UNBOTHERED

 

Dear Lord,

Please give me the strength to be unbothered by the people who found it so easy to let me go, and so easy to walk away. 

Open my eyes to see the space that was freed up in the vacancy they created.

Help me to understand that the real estate was too

valuable to place in the hands of those who did not deserve to hold the deed! 

So now I can breathe without judgement and appreciate the view of what freedom and true value looks like! 

And my what a view!

Whispers From A Brown Girl 

Photo credit: Tabitha Turner for Unsplash

I'M SCREAMING!

 

Inside my head I’m SCREAMING!

Shouting

Crying

Remembering the past

Expecting the worst

Anticipating the future

Moaning in pain

Imagining my breakthrough

Needing a healing

God, can You hear me? 

Photo credit: Simran Sood for Unsplash

I AM A WEED

 

I am a weed. I look like a flower, but I am a weed.

I survive in the harshest conditions without water or seed.

Others would rather be flowers growing hoping I’m not seen.

Flowers have their merit, value, and are held in high esteem.

I am a weed; judged like a book cover and always wrong.

Necessary not a nuisance. I have purpose and I belong.

There are others just like me who accept the deception.

Masquerading as flowers living the norm and not the exception.

I am a weed and though I look like a flower I am still a weed.

Holding my head up because I am proud to be a weed!

But because GOD is so good, He can make this weed a flower!

Because He loves me, I have an assigned purpose and power!

For God wanted some weeds to feed the soil and protect from pests.

In Him will I trust and have no fear! I am a weed and on that I will rest!