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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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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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

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.

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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!

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I'M NOT PERFECT - WHISPERS FROM A BROWN GIRL

 

SO THANKFUL THAT I DON’T HAVE TO BE PERFECT 

FOR GOD TO LOVE ME.

WHISPERS FROM A BROWN GIRL

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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!

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BROKEN

 

I AM BROKEN BUT NOT DESTROYED

BECAUSE AMONG THE PIECES IS MY BREAKTHROUGH.

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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 

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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?

 

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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!