April 13, 2012

Somehow I’d made it out of the spring and summer
I thought the rain would never end
And when fall finally came around, he was stagnant

I had always wondered what it’d be like if we danced together
Because the rain was so beautiful
I thought we had moved past those old feelings of desert

I looked out the window and that big tree swayed violently
The rain came down in droves
That day he was not my friend

I started imagining what it’d be like when the cold touched my face
I had been so afraid of him all this time
Could winter be my friend now?

Colorful leaves turn to brown and bare branches turn to wet rivers turn to dry cracked ground turn to a thousand leaves again

I never knew when it started or when it ended or if it ever started and finished and I had just missed it

What I did know is that right now he wasn’t my friend. And I couldn’t handle that

I draw my strength March 12, 2012

I draw my strength from the inspiration of my elders
Those beautiful women who made brown skin desirous
My ancestors had fear, but their ambition overpowered any seeds of doubt

I permanently bury my seeds of doubt with the spirits of these women
I close my eyes and envision their lives, full of oppression
That oppression was overpowered by their love and strength

I am empowered by the memory of my ancestors
Beautiful, black women who embodied grace and intelligence; who fought through words and acts
I am inspired by the dignity of the Black Woman

I embrace my brown skin through thoughts of their perseverance
I dream of the day when my work will live up to their standards
I breathe each breath with an effort to make my ancestors proud

Through the visions of my mind I remember the days of old
I live my life to the fullest, to the end – just as they did
My entourage consists of their humble spirits left behind

Through my own trials, I have learned to embrace humility
No matter the hue of their brown skin, their spirits continue to rise
My spirit sings as I remember my roots

To all of my sisters, the unsung heroes
I believe in you, I love you, I live you
Black is beautiful, Black is forever

An Old New Thing January 8, 2012

Do you really have to be without to become needy
And the music doesn’t always need to be beautiful to be inspiring,
But the music must always be melodic to inspire
Because melodies incite and encourage and enlighten
And I don’t hear that familiar creak anymore

A creak is nowhere near beautiful, but in its own way is melodic
The absence of that creak incites me to draw back…severely
The severity of my retreat heightens my confidence
The closeness was forcing me to become much too needy
Too close, too toxic, shortness of breath, unclear thoughts

That’s what the creak in my left shoe did. Musically, it inspired me.
Just as the creak induces melody, so does silence.
The abrupt silence caused me to strain — but at least I could breathe on my own
I was straining to see ~ because the silence sounded like the sun
I wanted to hear it so bad…

Dark. Light. All I heard was nothing. And all my thoughts read…
simultaneously. erroneously. erratically. perfectly.
I felt the familiar burn in my eyes and my nose
Was familiarity what was missing? Though the sounds always provoke some
sense of things familiar.

Don’t stop

All I want is for the silence to continue. When the outer becomes inner
and inner, outer. When thunder sounds like whispers and heartbeats lay
the foundation for raw inhibition. And exposition. Bringing life to fruition.
I lost all my timidness amidst the deafening silence
And I’m not ready to shut the windows yet.

Trying to squeeze that last bit of sunlight in has almost clogged my ears
But I’m afraid of the dark. And I know that old familiar creak hungers  for
blackness

And I just realized we’re not on the same page. yet. you’ll need to trek harder and think slower. Can you hear the sunlight? If you can’t let go of your familiarity then what we’ll be is nowhere.

I can’t hear the creak anymore.

In A Place October 14, 2011

It was a little past 11 and I was lying in bed reading. I thought it would do me some good to meditate, especially since I hadn’t done any in awhile. This meditation session was both surprising and refreshing.
It was just about a year ago when I’d made the firm commitment to move away. And I had never been so scared in all my life. I was actually going to do this. I was really going to pack up everything…and leave everyone behind. Theoretically, I was leaving one life for another. Emotionally, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
Few really understood my decision to leave. Actually, I don’t think the few who did, completely understood. How could they? This was a decision between me and God.

My move was exciting, scary, traumatic, long and exhilarating. I never thought I would be here. Right now. I’ve replayed my move so many times – imagining different outcomes, never totally satisfied. Things happened that I never expected to happen. And things happened that I never expected to happen. And the adjustment period was ten times longer than I ever thought it would be. And for so long I was just plain scared.

I’m not settled. And I don’t think we should ever become settled in life. But I’m not afraid anymore. And sadness has left (thank God). But I needed to do this. To move far away from everything. Not to start over. But to simply start. Not to find myself. But to be myself.

So now I’m filled with new experiences. And if I had the chance to do it over again, I’d do it just the same.

Amen.

ahirkn September 5, 2011

You’ve been gone too long

 

I lay in bed in the middle of the night. With the sheet pulled up just halfway. When I heard the most beautiful sound.

 

I never thought I’d feel the way I do about you.

 

So at first I got scared and jumped up to shut the window. But after about two minutes I decided to open it back. I didn’t want to miss anything.

 

Wanting and needing and longing and such
To be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your drums hitting the roof of the house
Well I was nothing short of ecstatic
See I know that You bring so much more than what we see and hear
But what we feel…

And a few short hours of you bring days of lasting effects

I will never feel the same about you
I shall listen to You intently, faithfully
I’ll heed Your advice and receive everything you bring – openly
I will absolutely never underestimate you again

Never feel the way I used to feel about you
Because here you have different meaning
You have new meaning
I know your worth
I love you

 

So please
Please don’t ever leave me for that long again.

I am that woman… August 15, 2011

Who sometimes cries herself to sleep at night
only to wake up the next day more determined than ever to succeed.

Who sees the world as amazingly beautiful
without ever opening my eyes.

Who makes decisions cautiously, yet definitively.

Who always smiles because smiling never hurt anyone.

Who puts family first…period.

Who doesn’t know a thing about cars, but will take a roadtrip in a heartbeat.

And will breeze down the freeway blasting Kanye, the Police and Coltrane all in the same trip.

Who embraces the art of journalism,
but shies away from the media.

Who is completely content settling down with a good glass of wine and my man Humphrey.

Who is comfortable in her brown skin…
I actually enjoy it very much.

Who speaks for and about her race,
but doesn’t want to be THE spokeswoman.

Who believes in meditation and the power of prayer.

Who will find humor in almost any situation,
because laughing is good for the soul.

Who is fearless in trying new things,
you just gotta catch me on the right day.

Who loves you more than you’ll ever know,
if I ever choose to let you know.

 

Yeah, I am that woman.

July 9, 2011

Sometimes it just takes that one thing. A catalyst. And in this case, that’s EXACTLY what it was.

 

It was a long time ago when it consumed life. It was breathed in like air. No glasses or contacts needed because it was clear. It smelled like Uncle’s smothered pork chops, baked mac and cheese, fried cabbage and homemade rolls. It was lying on the couch almost asleep, then nearly jumping through the roof with excitement.

It was silent, well at least vocally anyway. And yet still having it. Late nights and barely waking up on time. Sneaking whenever and wherever possible, letting absolutely nothing interfere with it. Knowing that it maybe wasn’t right, but rationalizing that it was truly life or death.

Way back when, having to retreat to the basement. But not caring because enjoyment was not conducive to place – because only it could allow anything remotely close to enjoyment.

Pure, unadulterated pleasure. That’s what happened with it.

 

I guess a wall was hit. Cracked. Smacked. Bulldozed and grounded into dust. It had been lying dormant but was awoken like a sleeping lion. That one, single cataclysmic it.

So, lost it was not – but that’s irrelevant at this point.

 

It’s back…and hopefully here to stay.

This Song July 2, 2011

This song is playing and the guitar is coming on strong. It hits the right notes at the right time. Even. Slow. Steady. Methodical.
And then the melody rises. The harmony comes in. Then leaves. But the bridge remains strong.
Guitar, bass, percussion – even.
Absolutely nothing is out of place.
It rises and falls – just like our breathing.
It all fits together.
But then the guitar gets tired.
And the percussion is tired of keeping time.
So the bass is left all alone.
That bass gets real low, but never stops.
Steady.
What the bass doesn’t realize is that it is the foundation of the song.
The guitar and percussion become inspired by the bass’ persistence.
And soon enough, they fall back in time.
We fell back in time.
The melody rises and falls.
And the harmony flirts carelessly with the melody.
Though there’s nothing casual about this song.

 

The music begins to fade…to silence.
But if you close your eyes, the song plays loud and clear.
So in reality, this song will never end.

 

As long as we keep our eyes closed.

Something in the rain June 25, 2011

Exactly when it happened, where it happened and what happened.

 

That tree had that one branch up top that pointed slightly to the left.
But that branch was different because it slanted upward.
It loved the sun, but begged for rain.
And so when the rain did come, it was like the first day of spring.
And the rain was so seldom that each time that branch even tasted rain – it was like the first time.

Like the first time you ride a bike – it’s scary, but in the end becomes truly liberating.
Like the first time you listen to Stevie’s As…
Like the first time you taste homemade ice cream…
Like the first time I watched the sun set on the west coast…

Though what I felt, I’d experienced long before I knew this existed
Because this is so many, so much, but not too much
In fact, just enough – though hardly bearable at times
And I still want more

 

Just like that awkward branch on that tree
I love the sun, but sometimes…I just want it to rain

I was going 100 miles per hour into a brick wall June 19, 2011

I was a very old 25 and a young 26 when it happened.

 

My life changed and I wasn’t ready for it. Decisions needed to be made and I was to be the one to make them. Decisions that were challenging and thought-shifting. Decisions that required me to alter my life.

When I was a very old 25 and a young 26, I wasn’t ready for the process.

 

I wasn’t ready for the self-evaluation that had no choice but to take place. I wanted to continue to live in my fantasy while reality stood by in the background. I wanted to live the life I created instead of live the life I was chosen to live.

When I was a very old 25 and a young 26…I remember it like it happened last night.

 

Reflection can be very painful, but utterly necessary. It wasn’t about everyone else and their thoughts, but about me and mine. And my thoughts were as scrambled and disjointed as my life.

I never knew that the journey I began would be as monumental as it was. My eyes would be opened and the world would suddenly become endless. I would discover things about myself and within myself I never imagined existed. In essence, I discovered me. And just in time too because there’s absolutely no way the old me could handle what the new me continues to endure.

 

When I was a very old 25 and a young 26, I realized that breaking away from tradition was the only hope I had.

Stop.

 

At the fork in the road I turned right. And haven’t looked back since.