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!

Photo credit: Humphrey M for Unsplash

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!

Photo credit: Kristina Flour for Unsplash

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

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

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

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

BACK HOME

Arrogant irreverence to the facts and

writing the rules with invisible ink.

Set up for the mess up and 

I have no one else to blame.

Sweeping my soul’s floor with

blasphemous strokes of irretrievable

Rhetoric, I blew it, you knew it but 

You let me fall.

You said it was for my own good-

that big knot forming on my head.

Sometimes humility is found 

in the lowest of places and

so, I visit and stay awhile.

My recovery was not what I expected. 

I healed but still bear the scars.

The lessons are etched on the lonely

places in my heart.

Humiliated I sneak back home where

things have changed but you have not.

I’m ready to clean house, make room, 

and begin again.

Photo credit: Snapavelli for Nappy.com

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

 

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!

GRIEF BITES

 

Grief bites I thought you knew.

Thought you knew that leaving was not you.

Leaving without saying goodbye,

without explaining why

was unacceptable.

Grief steals taking joy leaving pain.

Leaving pain, tears like rain.

Tears raining, soaking my spirit,

a spirit that once lived for you

Is now dead,

Grief bites like rain.

Wet and then dries.

Disappearing when the sun rises

as if it was never there.

Grief bites like wine.

Leaving behind a bitter taste

and a stain like memories.

Like taunting.

Grief hurts, it leaves us bare I thought you knew.

Thought you’d never go without saying goodbye.

Grief is that last sip of Rosé or

Chardonnay. 

I drained the glass for you; my last testament

that I loved you when you were here and

I Love you more now that you’re gone.

Cheers to the memory of you!

Photo credit: Julia Kadel

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

I'M FIRE!

 

It’s not about bad hair but bad air.  I breathe fire you breathe rain.

Dousing water on my dreams sending my hopes into steam! 

What was white hot like hope now lies in a puddle at my feet. 

You stand at the mirror reflecting on your deeds. 

You’ve done good, got away with murder, so you think. 

But little did you know my thoughts were of you! 

I included you in my plans. 

Happy not nappy, you pressed your hair, 

I dared to dream. 

I dreamed a world where I mattered, we all mattered,

 where bad deeds weren’t justified at the mirror. 

I breathe fire let’s breathe fire together. 

Let’s flow like lava igniting everything we touch,

creating islands resting in the new thing we created.

It's not the hair it’s the dare! Dare to dream, dare to be different! 

Dare to be fire-breathing. Breathing life, fearlessly fabulous,

Intentional in our intent.

Fire-breathing, no rain, no tears no dousing flames of hope,

Straining to see through steam distorting the scene.

Now standing before the mirror boldly!

Declaring my wrongs, my rights to hope and breathe,

Because I am fire, white hot liquid fire...

...watch me flow!

Photo credit: Boris Rager for Pixabay

Sometimes

Sometimes in darkness we see light.

Sometimes the best place to hear God’s voice

is from the ground.

In weakness we find our strength.

In pain we find healing and

sometimes in our brokenness 

we are transformed.

Courage allows us to let go.

Wisdom teaches us why and

faith gives us the strength to accept

the outcome.

So, out of my darkness, I seek the light

lifting my head to hear His voice.

It’s quiet here on the ground

sometimes.

Photo credit: Photo by Michael Starkie on Unsplash

The Strong One

 

photo credit: Louis Galvez/Unsplash

I am the strong one.

The one who worries and plans

For everyone else’s care.

The phone rings sounding the alarm

I hear the panic and my heart stands still.

No sacrifice too great.

I am the unofficial manager of lives

All accept my own. There’s no time 

You see for me, the strong one.

I listen, I pray standing in the gap.

I fret, lose sleep all in the name of love.

I am the one necessary element in everyone’s lives.

But I’m not.

Not needed for the joys, and thoughts

The parties and the jobs,

Not a factor until something goes wrong.

Then I am to blame

I’m expected to fix

Even if no one has really asked.

It’s my job any how

Besides, who else will do it?

Who else knows how?

I am the strong one.

The one no one calls just to say hi.

The last one content with being last.

It’s okay, really, I don’t need the concern

I freely show others.

I’m strong and that fact is my comfort.

I live an ugly truth no one can know.

Sometimes I am weak, I want to fold

But the calls don’t come.

There are times when I seek 

The ear, the shoulder that look.

No one wants to give me what I need.

But I’m the strong one

And because I am strong

I keep smiling, staying on my post.

I often wonder as I caress the nuzzle

Run my finger across the blade or

Toy with the safety cap…

…when will the call come and will 

it be

too 

late?

What Does Victory Look Like?

 

Photo credit: Bella Photography/Unsplash

What does victory look like?

Do the bruises and bumps

Mean more than the battle?

It’s amazing how the outcome

Tells us all we need to know.

What does victory look like?

Circumstances, trials and standing any how!

When God intercedes and covers us

When he blocks the blows, picks us up

Dusts us off...we stand because He

Fought the battle, a battle that no one or no thing

Stood a chance of winning.

What does victory look like?

It looks like blessings, and 

It looks like a smile on a baby’s face

Who has defied the odds.

It looks like rain and sunshine all in one!

What does victory look like?

It looks like God’s love painted

In the trees, and in the wind.

What does victory look like?

It looks like...ME!

Where Do Creatives Go?

Photo credit: Daniel Lee Mingook/Unsplash

Where do Creatives go?

Worship and belonging seems foreign.

Foreign because my language is

Not your language and so...

IF I draw while you speak

Because your words have nudged me.

We are on the same wave but 

The frequency is weak.

Music and praise and waving of hands

Look like clouds and dance in the Creative’s mind.

I see the glances and snickers wondering if I’m sane.

You usher me out, but I want to stand.

Where do the Creatives go?

Longing to belong but finding no place

Perceived as a threat, a nuisance.

My tears and my silenced tongue say,

Not so...

Where do the Creatives go?

To worship, to praise, sing and

Paint, to dance...

Where? I don’t know.

I Wrote You

 Excerpt from 

K IS FOR KENNEDY

A Love Letter From a Grandmother To A Grandson

Scriptures, Poems & Words of Wisdom for life’s journey

I Wrote You

(A love letter from God)

I wrote you.

 Created the page and then I spit your story on the empty surface.

From my imagination I formed your story and breathed life like commas so that your journey would make the world sing and dream of me!

I wrote you.

Made A to Z so that I could explain that you have no explanation except that

You are wonderful and in my image for 

when I saw you in my mind

You looked like me.

I wrote you…with limitless indelible ink and then

I read what I had written and I smiled and cried all at the same time.

For I already knew that you would desire 

to rise above the paper and above me.

And when you discovered that you could not fly without me you would fall.

I wrote you as I made room for you in my book of purpose

and I loved my creation created to create and be.

You are amazing more than you know or believe and that too makes me cry.

Fearlessly made yet you are fearful.

Powerful yet, powerless and so 

your riches, which are your inheritance

lay wasted.

Why? It doesn’t have to be because, I wrote you,

created the paper, the words, the story and when it’s all

said and done, I hold the period to be placed at the end of your story.

 

The Strong One

I am the strong one.

The one who worries and plans

For everyone else’s care.

The phone rings sounding the alarm

I hear the panic and my heart stands still.

No sacrifice too great.

I am the unofficial manager of lives

All accept my own. There’s no time 

You see for me, the strong one.

I listen, I pray standing in the gap.

I fret, lose sleep all in the name of love.

I am the one necessary element in everyone’s lives.

But I’m not.

Not needed for the joys, and thoughts

The parties and the jobs,

Not a factor until something goes wrong.

Then I am to blame

I’m expected to fix

Even if no one has really asked.

It’s my job any how

Besides, who else will do it?

Who else knows how?

I am the strong one.

The one no one calls just to say hi.

The last one content with being last.

It’s okay, really, I don’t need the concern

I freely show others.

I’m strong and that fact is my comfort.

I live an ugly truth no one can know.

Sometimes I am weak, I want to fold

But the calls don’t come.

There are times when I seek 

The ear, the shoulder that look.

No one wants to give me what I need.

But I’m the strong one

And because I am strong

I keep smiling, staying on my post.

I often wonder as I caress the nuzzle

Run my finger across the blade or

Toy with the safety cap…

…when will the call come and will 

it be

too 

late?

Excerpt from:

Messages To The Woman In The Mirror Published April 2020