My Poetry

When you go through the pain of bringing life into this world and feed your seed from the bounty of your breast,

You do your best to mold them into the purposed vessel the Most High intended with little or no guidance or knowledge,

The mistakes made knowingly, you pray that time and wisdom will turn around and the lesson will not be repeated,

The ones that were made in ignorance and immaturity you pray while you pay for those later.

The biggest struggle is with the you that didn’t know, the child you, the you that made adult decisions from a child’s perspective,

How do you forgive her for doing what she thought was right without asking you; the now you, the you that has matured and learned a little?

How dare she consider forgiveness for pushing the greatest pain she has ever known down to the depths of her forgetfulness to maintain.

How dare she be forgiven for being a lonely, silent victim,

Unable to vocalize the silent scream that rings in her head on repeat,

Causing toxicity in every relationship she enters until she is left alone, hating the arrogant, ignorant child that chose the path for her life without permission.

How do I forgive the mother that loves her offspring so much she runs them away?

How do I forgive the woman that is on a carousel and loves to the point of pain; around and around, up and down, praying her daughters are not watching?

When does love not hurt?

When will my worth be worth respect?

The labor of childbirth, a mere stomachache in comparison to the ache of a robbed childhood, the disappearance of forgiveness for innocent mistakes and your first love,

The constant querying your conscious reels of if the outcome may have been different if the child chose a different path,

The dreams of how her heart may have been handled if she spoke her truth.

All of that matters not,

The truth is that she is never been afforded the role of the victim,

She is only seen has the warrior with strength only coming from her silence.

The echoes in her mind of the silent screams have turned her into a shell of the woman she dreamed to be,

 She has learned to maneuver so that others are at peace,

She silences her emotions to save those of others even when she is accused of the opposite,

She is resolute in the idea that she will perish with those same silent screams to accompany her to the hereafter,

And because she can’t find a way to forgive that child she looks at in the mirror daily,

Her tears have dried up and she will forever be behind the wall she erected as her safe place.

No one will ever know the true magnificence she is because of her fear,

Nor the love that she will carry with her, afraid to share, to her transition.

What do you do when your heart feels like a heavy stone laying in your chest? 

Your breath is snuffed out like the flame on a single taper,

And your vision is blurred through the burning tears welling in your eyes.

Questions never answered and fading away like the colors on a sunbaked, raggedy t-shirt. 

How do you quiet the sounds of your lovers’ voice when you hear it in every song on your playlist?

The songs may change but the voice remains.

Is there a remedy for the sickness you feel in your gut whenever you think of never feeling their touch again?

When your lips remember the softness of their kiss and putting on your coat feels like their arms?

Who do you share your hopes, dreams, and accomplishments with when the one that applauded you and patiently listened has turned a deaf ear?

How do you cope with the realization that the one you so willingly shared your heart with disregards it like a typo in a memo? 

And the anger…

What method do you use to assuage the rage? 

How long does it take to erase the name of the one you loved from every part of the life you once shared? 

Why do you randomly scream in silence at the glimpse of a photo?

Their smile turns to a snarl and the beauty fades,

Their face distorted by your pain, but you can’t stop staring.

When will I stop caring?

The days march on to a steady cadence, but you are stuck.

Stuck in the last memory because they were snatched away too soon.

Not in death which would be easier,

But in betrayal that festers like a rotten apple.

You ask yourself wishing you could get the closure that always eludes you,

You cry to your soul searching for a resolution.

Did you hear that?

The sound of your heartbeat returning.

Did you feel that?

The shift of your emotions with the realization that justice is served.

And the confirmation from Karma that your pain has been reciprocated.

One day, two days…the sun is shining in your heart.

Three days and then four…you regain the strength in your legs.

Day five…the clouds of depression have rolled in and the number in the square is one. 

And the cycle continues until you can reach day six with a smile on your face that comes from joy and not the mask you put on to cope.

Oh god, let me make it to day seven!

The answer is…breathe

You’re a bitch ass! 

Let me explain…

Swooping in like a bird of prey,

Hunting for hearts that have  been broken,

Seeking out the emotions that have been played.

The words are sweet and dripping from your lips like honey,

While you weave your web of deceit.

The harlequin masks you wear disguise your vile character,

While you have the starring role in the play of charades. 

Your actions say, “Guess who am I today?”,

A knight in shining armor or the invisible man?

Guess again, I am the devourer of your kindness, 

Playing your emotions like an out of tune xylophone.

My costume today is covered with question marks,

Because the green hair in my ass is as wild as the joker.

You showed your ass in your true character form,

A bitch that would anger a wild dog in heat.

Your fangs are worn down from all the biting of the wooden nickels you have passed on to the unknowing,

Your tail is tucked like the coward you are.

You ghost to try and hide your bitch ass ways,

You disappear like a vapor in hopes of lies not being remembered. 

You’re a bitch ass for leaving in the night with unanswered questions,

You’re a bitch ass for not giving what’s needed to mend the heart you shattered like a stone through glass.

So go on with your bitch ass!

Your explanation is no longer valuable or needed,

The heart you thought you destroyed is stronger now than any love that it held for you. 

You want to know why you’re a bitch ass?

Fuck you! I’ve wasted enough breath on you! 

Who encourages the encourager?

When her shoulders are bruised and her back in knots,

Her knees nearly buckled by weight of your thoughts. 

The dark circles around her third eye and the evasiveness off her smile are unseen through the tears she soaks in from others.

The reciprocation of strength falls short, and her tongue becomes too heavy to plead for one moment of solitude.

Her grip on her reality has become so weak it melds with the comforted,

And her thoughts are fused to another’s.

What words can empower the one seen as a lighthouse,

Guiding ships of emotions safely to shore with no anchor on hers,

Helping to navigate the tempest of feelings she successfully quells to be the bridge of security for others to safely cross their vicious sea of turmoil?

Who is there to massage the hands that have pulled so many to freedom,

But finds herself still enslaved by remorse?

Why are her screams silenced and her bleeding ignored? 

When she flees for solitude, why is it interpreted as selfishness?

The question still remains...

Who encourages the encourager?

Is her peace is found only in death,

Or does she have to wade the murky waters of confusion to find hers?

What words can be said to ears ringing like bells with the calamities she was and was not able to repair,

The questions she has no answers to that spurn unjustified anger towards her?

Do you know what to say to the person that has held your secrets in a vault of trust,

When she has no outlet to release the demons attached?

Did you find the answer?

A hint or suggestion to…

Who encourages the encourager?

Can you facilitate the filling of the void that is left when the broken have been renewed and walked away leaving their rubbish in her spirit?

She sweeps up the remnants of your breakdown with nowhere to discard,

Tries to stand erect with the extra weight that did not come from what she ate in the wee hours of the night because her sleep has betrayed her.

The bags under her eyes are large enough to pack, filled with her own tears that she can’t release,

Too busy mopping up the tears of others before replacing the mask of content she adorns so well.

Who, again I say, encourages the encourager?

If she disappeared, would it make even a small ripple in the collective consciousness or be as invisible as the wind?

A light tap on the back and a dismissive nod are the reciprocation of her long hugs and attentive ears when she can take no more,

A flippant, “I will keep you in my prayers” when she voices her pain.

Prayers she has prayed for you, dismissing her own,

And the time cannot be replaced.

She found the answer in solitude mistaken for selfishness,

Isolation misread as insolence.

She found herself while searching for a shoulder,

She fell in love with herself through her own advice.

She doesn’t need lips fixed to say thank you anymore because she has learned that the encouragement comes from within.