Emotionless

Vacant,jpg
Desensitized
I’m left confused
Who is this shell with no insides
Where others can take shelter and actually feel
Who is this mother who can’t mother
This daughter who can’t daughter
Through the looking-glass, I’ve tumbled
And fell right at the mouth of the beast
And I fight it with only a stick because I’m ill-equipped to handle…
Life
Strife has become my neighbor beckoning me at all hours of the day
And I sing hymnals, read verses, chant, and pray,
Oh, I pray!
But the beasts that have stolen almost every part of my innocence
Have made pacts and entered into alliances
With other-worldly things that are privy to my purpose
And all I can do is rely on the fact that the battle is already won
And relinquish the beast
While I wait in my shell
Emotionless

Eat Your Words

Our brains are so smart

But sometimes not smart enough

To stop the verbal vomitwordle-weightofwords

That ran across our minds

And escaped over our tongues

Bitter to taste

They linger

And the air becomes thick with them

Pollution of the elusive kind

Because it may not just be our words

That made a break from the back of our throats

But others’ words have become stagnant in the air

And silence is longed for

But no amount of it

Can take back, repair, mend what was broken by our words

Silence cherished, after the fact

And the lava still boils

In the souls of the receiver

And the words which erupted

From the volcano of our mouths

Spill out into the already intense atmospheric pressure

And all any of us would like to do

Is retrieve them, eat them.

 

* I originally wrote this on 9-24-2014

 

Musings on Monday

It is late night and my mind cannot stop wandering.  This tends to happen all day long and especially at night.  As a writer, I find the beauty in words from all around me and then my mind gets to wandering.  There are so many ideas that I want to come to fruition.  I realize that I have to take it one project at a time.  I have taken a short break from my novel to write children’s books; so far I have written two.  I am really nervous to write my query letters and submit, but it is 2015 and I know that this is “My Year”.

This year,musing my focus is on my health and in order to keep my MS under control, I need to take care of myself and zero in on peace and happiness.  Stress had taken control of me for the past decade and it cannot happen any longer.  I notice that I feel so much better when I write, especially for this blog, when I complete a poem, and when I share what I have written. My writing has been a long journey and I will hold onto hope because it is the anchor for my soul.

These words that are in my head are constantly floating around and they make me someone else.  I am a different person with each poem or novel/script idea and if I don’t write it down, then I lose that person.  My goal is to get to a place where what I do for a living is write down those floating words.  And those floating words will support me and my kids and transform the world around me.

So, these were just some things on my mind and if I could offer any advice, it would be to use your gifts.  That’s what they are, gifts, and if we don’t use them there could be a time when we lose them.

Happy 2015!

If you Dare Me…

I will tell you the whole,being-transparent1

Unmitigated truth

It will spill from me

Like lava from a volcano

It may consume all the

Inhabitants in its immediate path

But from the burnt ground

And discarded souls

You will hear the truth

See it in the soil

Bare, naked

But rich, fruitful and renewed

If you dare me…

I will wait for you to pick

Up the ashes of my truths

And carefully handle them

Until they are cool against your heart

I will wait until your eyes

And mind connect the dots

While your conscience makes

A decision that your subconscious could not

If you dare me…

I’ll let my truth linger

For a moment in your village

I’ll let you rebuild your home

Decorate it new again, fresh again

But, if for any reason

You let the ashes from the lava of my truth

Completely be blown away and taken up by the tide

I will never be transparent

For you again.

 

 

Where are you headed?

Q4 bus
From the Getty Collection

I am from Sax and Dora

patches of dust on a Quitman GA road

roosters crowing in the morning

and honeybee snuff on Eliza’s tongue

I am from the capital to Vietnam to NYC

streets considered the concrete jungle

From English Tudor homes and block parties

From 6 AM Sunday morning service

and fried fish Friday’s

From Linden Blvd and Merrick

I am from a generation of need

need reassurance

need direction

need love

need hope

need education

need money

need to find myself

need Jesus

I am from the strong-willed

and tough-love advocates

From the front porch games of

“that’s my car”

From backyard cookouts

and family in the same neighborhood

I am from New York!

Dear Stranger

Image  I wrote this today in response to a prompt through #TeachersWrite.  This happened to me a couple of years back but it was one of those pivotal moments in life that you never forget.  One that changes you and your journey forever…

Dear Stranger,

 

It seemed like I used to know you but that must have been a long time ago.  Things have changed with me now and it almost seems as if I have lost my way.  But, it was you who sauntered into the room and decided that I was worth your time and that my dreams should no longer be deferred.  You looked me in the eyes and I asked me was I happy.  I couldn’t understand that you didn’t notice my smile and my laughter.  But, you saw past it and asked me who I was.  I went into a long detailed speech about how I am an educator, wannabe writer, mother, youngest sibling in my family but, not until I retreated back into my own solitude did I realize that wasn’t the question you were asking me at all.

 

How could this stranger notice what so many I have surrounded myself with did not?  How could this stranger ask me the one question that I have tried to avoid for quite some time?  Or maybe I had been waiting for someone to finally call attention to my pain.  It is funny how those who seem to want to be nonexistent, really want to exist and those who smile really want to cry.  For all of the charades that are put on, I think mine was an Oscar winner.

 

That stranger forced me to really look at myself, where I had been, where I was presently, and where I hoped to go.  It forced me to determine who I was and how that was in sharp contrast to who I wanted to be.  I took control that night after the tears and the stages of denial passed.  My days became truly brighter and more purposeful.  I am on a journey and have not yet reached my destination but, I am loving the route there.  I accept my challenges and do not rule them as my terminal fate.  And it is all thanks to the stranger with eyes that could see beyond what was in front of her.

 

Thank you and blessings,

 

Shay

Let me share…

ImageI thought that I would share a poem that wrote in 2009.  This is my first time sharing anything like this on the internet if it wasn’t for a competition.  So here goes! (photo not mine)

Doubt

6-17-09

 

It’s a funny thing

How your reality of

My reality is not

The reality of

The situation

Your good humor

And passive aggressive conversation

Sets my imagination

And then my

Actual destination

To higher heights

Than when first conceived

Birth of a stronger substance

Than the putty

That your doubt

Tried to create

Therefore, I

Am not sure

Why your eyes

Hold lies and low expectations

When there has always been

A strong me,

A fierce competition

A determined sista

Albeit doubt.