Up Against The Wall

Mercurial, fickle, capricious and other synonyms but it’s not something to be proud of. It is being a whirlwind that sometimes ignites some pride because in circles, you move and have a taste of every corner before you decide to disappear deep in the ground. – Could name a tornado after me.

Just like that, the story of being up against the wall is not an easy one to tell. It’s synonymous with victory expect you do not stretch your arms up high in joy. No. You hold fists and fold arms, draw them close to your chest, lower your head between your thighs, fall on your knees and wish you could be rolled down to where those who are constantly defeated go. In that moment, being rolled seems like glory because your thoughts have been curled into something like a ball and the last thing you’d wish for is having ball that cannot roll. (Or words that don’t rhyme.)

So it’s like hanging on the collar of your shirt, up against the wall. It’s literally being up against the wall.

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Orchestra

 

You give the sun it's light and say the word

Every morning - Levitate

Huh, that orange, yellow red. No. Gold - Scientists say

It's gaseous.

Goes on to glide until it finds its place somewhere, up, and center

Then,

You rub out the slimy orange and red; back up the golden yellow with

Blue: A blue background,

And as if the piercing rays are not enough glory when they slice through my window,

You go ahead.

Send out bits of your purity like cotton candy and say to them,

"Float"

Taking command they roam,

And stray

Meanwhile you've sprinkled the trees and grass,

You refresh them.

You've dressed the birds and given them songs and in their music

You whisper,

I pay little attention but it must be a message with what's for the day,

I digress,

But you move your hand swiftly and air escapes.

Battles,

Light branches flap and it must be you fighting my battles and repeating

Whispers that must have been loud.

And so I believe you say the word and again and the orchestra at dusk

Slowly-

Hang far in the sky and take a long bow as they

Twinkle.

You are amazing, God.

 

Letter To My Mothers

My mother, aunties and grandmothers,

You're everything I want to become. Thank you for being women of Valor, women of God, fierce women. No wonder, you manage to be of so many contagious and oh so gracious things, share them without expecting anything in return. I celebrate you everyday. I'd say a billion thank you's and still owe you one.

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My Brother's Keeper

I read the scriptures and learned that Cain after killing Abel became a wanderer. Did he lurk through our hills sometime in April? Did he walk through the rain swinging from man to man, bidding farewell, yet again, his brother Abel? Did he use that man to taste his neighbor's blood in search of his brother, did Cain walk the hills sometime in April?

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Healing And Becoming

"I failed."
I don't know about you but the last time I said this, it was followed by a mess. Tears for the most part, headaches, allergies, more tears isolation and that was the cycle for so long. Actually just the thought, no, let me not think about it. 

When people are not in your position, it's hard for them to understand that vulnerability can actually be a form of strength. I've had to stop my tears, had to make decisions as fast as I was expected to, had to put myself together because I was told I had come out as a weak person for crying, for being undecided, for isolating myself, and for healing at a slow pace and it went as far as being so afraid of saying certain things in prayer. 

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