I WAS SUPPOSED TO

I was supposed to crumble,

And to call it quits. But I wasn’t

Made that way. 

Crumbled, yes but

I bent down and picked up the pieces

Knowing that every piece had a purpose

Pieced back together glued together with scars.

I was supposed to tumble

And fall flat on my face. And I did,

But falling meant my viewpoint shifted.

Tumbled, to adjust, I got up with

New information that the shift provided.

I see better, with hands filled with the crumbs.

I was supposed to cry, your words held the daggers.

Designed to hurt, to tear and to rip open

You dreamt of blood, my blood.

The pain and the blood were merely

Confirmation that I was still alive

That my heart still beat and 

Not to quench your thirst.

Your design was for defeat.

But God had already armed me for victory.

Dodging arrows and patching wounds

Is my specialty. Fearless in my fear.

I was born that way. Fit to fight

Even from the ground.

A gatherer of crumbs

Covered in places you cannot reach.

Falling simply to rest and 

View the battleground from another angle.

Your design was for defeat, but

The only one who was defeated was you!

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YOUR WORDS

 

Are your words like fire spit in my face to burn

Or are they like rain to quench my thirst? 

My need for softness to soothe to heal the dry places-

Will your words pierce my flesh boring holes to my core?

Tell me? Use your inside voice to reach my heart…

Are your words ignited by the flame of desire?

Or are they cold like ice making it easy to turn your back

Leaving me Misery’s company.

The name you spit in my face is not the one

Given at birth yet you swear it belongs to me

Because you say so.

Speak to me from your heart…your inside voice.

Your words reflect you, don’t they?

Each syllable reflects your character-

The gut and realness that is you…not me!

Speak to me in you inside voice…you came 

Under false pretenses to be my beloved.

Yet, your words breathed from a dark place

Scorch and burn and leave a scar where my heart once yearned for you.

Use your Inside voice and write your goodbye’s so-longs 

and make your departure as I stay here to erase 

the essay you have written in my blood. 

My need for softness out weighs your presence

Go and never return…For your inside voice is 

Raspy and off -key, rough and dry…maybe

Next time your words will sing sweet music

Written just for me just to say, “I love you.”

Fearlessly approach me even though my ear may not

Be willing to listen and be willing to speak knowing that

Your return is too late! But speak…with your inside voice

Because you simply had…something…to say!

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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!

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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!

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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!

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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!

 

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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.

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