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Category: spoken word

Sharing a brief walk down memory lane in a poem, a few pictures, and a spoken word video

“Maybe”

Maybe my lack of satisfaction has nothing to do with a diagnosis

Because maybe, possibly, it could be true

That there’s just something greater that I’m meant to do.

Twirling and attempting to manipulate mood rings as a child,

Never backing down from a fight,

Learning that women can have autonomy even if the head of their household doesn’t belief in such things –

That a woman can be her own head of household instead of clipping her wings –

Some limitations we place on ourselves,

Dust collecting on passions 

That will only become trophies if we make it so

Some things we must do ourselves.

I want to share some pictures and videos that speak louder than the lines shared above do. Thank you for viewing.

I attended this college in undergrad before choosing to go off into the military. My days as a student here were so meaningful that I returned as an adult before I began giving in to my nomad tendencies (again).
I visited the University of North Carolina School of the Arts many times to accompany my late paternal grandfather to complete tasks at his job on this campus.
I entitled this spoken word video “Freedom”
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Voilà Moment

“Individuals on the journey eventually find themselves experiencing a baptism by fire. It’s that moment when they are just about to lose their lives and they miraculously, courageously find the answer that gives their life meaning. And that meaning, that answer, saves them.”

– Viola Davis

In chapter one of “Finding Me,” Viola Davis speaks on her purpose. And how much bigger her purpose is than what she thought it was during her childhood. Letting go of expectations of society and removing self in order to tune into the purpose that God placed on her life. Remarkable! For even in our faults our journeys can inspire others.

For even in our faults,

We can inspire others!

We? Can inspire others? Our purpose is bigger than us. Our purpose is bigger than US?

Yes! Years of therapy, years of not really knowing myself, years of not LOVING me, but ME?

I- I can?

I can. And I will.

But letting go of that fear, SHIT! How?

All I ever wanted to do was write. I longed to highlight the keys to the very things I did not feel inside. I wanted to help people, interview homeless people, feed them, help them with housing. I dreamed of writing for the Winston-Salem Journal. I dreamed of making a difference, not so much Captain Planet style, but more like Robin Hood and like saving abused and sad orphans like Annie, as my very childlike perceptions of those stories on the TV fed the humanitarian in me. In between breaks of the fantasy world of Disney movies, I nurtured the side of me that wanted to make a positive impact on the world around me. I wanted to help troubled youth and struggling families for I knew a lot about what they were feeling inside. I knew the impact of the cries a mother makes at night when she thinks her kids are asleep, as she is tired, overworked and underpaid but has no time to focus on her problems because she’s taking care of her kids on her own.

I look around and I see the busy hustle and bustle of the daily chase and rush to – I don’t know where everyone is in such a rush to go. Or to be. But yes, I was in that rush. Internally.

I wanted to help people. I wouldn’t know until my mid-thirties that I needed to have first helped myself so that my voice could be more effective. I think that the initial fueling of the flame helped to continue reminding me of my potential, for I admittedly became lost in my own troubles and sorrows and “woe is me” modes. No matter how deep I submerged myself, no matter how many times I attempted to drown, that darn fire kept igniting and alerting my subconscious, my spirit, my heart.

And today I can firmly state:

There is no more fighting my purpose.

Over time these sparks of ideas, goals, callings. They wouldn’t freaking stop!

No matter how perceived, I must continue to follow what I am destined to do. It is bigger than me. And always has been. Cliché but illumination in a realm of darkness is hard to ignore. And a pursuit of normalcy is still a bore, anyway.

Voilà Moment

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“Indescribable”

**(Please visit home page of blog to view video presentation of this poem.)**

It’s probably the scariest assignment once I wake up and think about it. 

Days away from 17, months away from teenagehood, months away from completing the first year of life.

I said before that there are, in fact, past versions of myself that I do not want my sons or my baby girl to be like. That I will always be a safe place for them and keep it real. I also don’t hide that it took decades for me to choose to heal.

Black sheep, an outsider, inside her (me) was a very hurt child.

I used this platform to display growth and healing, never anticipating the depths of what I would discover about myself. 

There is no book for this. 

I have had my fair share of lovers, some great in which I was not ready for, and others but another notch on my belt of bad experiences.

If anything, as the winter approaches, as life comes full circle and I have solidified even more reason to walk my own path, I now acknowledge the power of words. 

Words that I have used to inspire, words that I have used to hurt others like explosive darts.

Protecting MY heart with a harmful ego struggle, years 13 to 18 for me were not stable but even in my identity struggles, deep down that empathic heart was still warm and vibrant.

I must refrain from dispensing too much of  my energy. There are many historical references whose works showed promise from isolation. That has been the most difficult part when you use the term “social butterfly” to cover up the truth of “I define my identity and self worth based on those I am around.” 

But when I found myself after a detox from the world, I see and I state: 

I am ready to do it right, my sons, my baby girl.

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An Ode of Sorts

I read that book and held it tight,

For through it she spoke to me that night.

Stories told need not be dark to be effective.

How could words describe the freedom

As my eyes danced along the pages,

A rainbow of wisdom, indeed –

Each word, each page

With a lesson in which to take heed.

This moment, this feeling

I, too am in a cloud –

Filled with love and hope and gratitude.

I, too, want to exude

Greatness that is seen and recognized,

My heart it flutters

When I think or utter…

When I manifest my purpose coming into fruition,

My distortions rectified

My life experiences to guide me

A clearer cognition

My faith strong inside me

To become the 2022 definition

Of resilience, you see-

Do you see? I see. I see me.

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“I AM LIGHT”

** Video recording can be found on main page of my blog.**

“Don’t go to school telling our business, a house divided will not stand.”

“Forgiveness is a must, no matter where he laid his hand.”

“You have a name that sounds white,

You’ll get a good job.”

 “I wanna blonde hair, blue-eyed doctor.”

Generations of struggle and survival mode acknowledged.

Be proud of the heightened levels of awareness and knowledge.

Let us not shame those who have discovered the tools, but also – 

 Why outcast those who speak their truths?

 It’s like –

“Do what you need to do to heal and be free, but not if it exposes me.”

Taboo topics taint generations and prevent healing when you pick and choose what’s worth revealing.

M***

Darkness and light. 

My purpose –

To write. 

My existence isn’t to appease. 

To duck and dodge truths.

 I won’t plant those seeds into the minds of the youth in THIS house, because THIS one is a safe place. 

What’s done in the dark comes to the light. 

Well, well. You didn’t want me to notice – 

I AM LIGHT .

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