… she who gave me the words that crafted this story…
She created me. You see.
She created me. Writing me on paper between cardboard covers. She made me real.
when my belly was flat i did not love my body more foe than friend she endured my judgment with very little backlash i pushed her too hard complained too frequently told her repeatedly she was not good enough for me when my belly was flat i did not love my body starving then gorging…
most women are superheroes. that’s not an overestimation. in fact when it comes to their children, to their families, most women take extraordinary measures on ordinary days.
death doesn’t play fair and it’s sister, grief, is treacherous as well. they can arrive on the most ordinary day and twist your world in very unordinary ways. my father use to tell me that death is nothing but a circle. and if i were to looked at it i would see it as a continuation not an end. my father was also a poet. he didn’t have any words for grief other than to say, ‘it’s a mutha phucka.’ which is the greatest truth he ever imparted.
in the tenets of sexism there lies one essential lie – women are less than. every time a woman no matter her color, creed, religion, or bank account balance pushes back she is declared even more loudly to be – less than.
life as a social worker can be arduous. there are entire seasons when you feel as if you aren’t taking a single step forward with any project you are working on. it’s life in quicksand and you only have a snake’s head to pull yourself and the people around you out.
i was instantly transported to the time when i was green and innocent and full of vigor and passion about every child having a chance and providing a chance for every child. not much has changed for me on that note since then other than the names of the demons and other things that go bump in the night that i fight.
30 days ago i decided to accept a challenge to write a poem everyday for 31 days. it’s promise i kept mostly because i’m ornery and secondly because it gave me a chance to explore my first love – the written word. here i am at the end of the challenge, grateful for the journey and ready to dive in to where this awakening will lead me next.
i don’t get many moments when my kid will stand still. the great pictures i do get share come at high cost as most moms of boys know. they move full steam ahead no cares about what steam you’re at or even if you have steam. they are ready to go!