Broken Love

They say it’s better to have loved and lost than not loved at all…

Well I’m calling bullshit on that one.

I don’t think it’s better to have given my all to someone who took it for granted

Only to desire me as long as his dick could stand for it.

Leaving me with a broken heart in my hands

Ripped from my sleeve

I bleed, for you.

I loved for you.

Sacrifice and lonely nights, but I loved.

And now am lost.

Morning Meditation.

Last week I started doing sun salutations again as an incentive to get out of bed once the alarm goes off in the morning without the added pressure to leave the threshold of my bedroom. Yoga helps ease the transition between my (usually) euphoric dream state, and the stressful environment of my reality. I revel in a moment of complete tranquility to set my intention for the day.

This morning I was considering the beliefs of two of my closest friends. One of them is an atheist & another, a pious Christian. Yet, they both receive the same level of comfort from their own knowledge of God. I listened to my friend cry their heart out, and then find solace in a biblical scripture the following morning. The physical remains of the night before lie strewn in the Kleenex across the bedroom floor, but all emotional turmoil had dissipated. Their identity and understanding of the universe are ground in that scripture.

I’ve listened to my other friend express their knowledge of the formation of Earth and how human life came to be. Their solace lies in knowing the true origins of life and being brash enough to accept it in the face of disbelief. Their worth wound around complex hypothesis. Perhaps, the universe expresses God as we wish to accept it to be used as a vessel for attaining peace.

An Ode to the Black Woman

Melanin created in the pineal gland;

affirms your place in the universe.

The same molecules within the Earth are inside you,

Black woman, your sameness is ingrained!

Your blood runs, runs

like rivers through mountains,

full of strength.

Your tears, the torrential outpour of your soul.

The darkness of the night in your eyes.

The breaths of a Goddess,

the whispers of the wind throughout the night sky.

 

Sun kisses your skin in the morn’,

filling you with light, positive energy & allowing you to grow,

Elevate to higher levels of consciousness,

Til’ you return unto the Earth;

for out of it were you taken,

This planet is your eternal home.

Black woman, you are nature personified.

For My Grandmother

Your freckles mirror spots in time.
Growing up I called them dots
Unsure of their meaning, seemingly innocuous
But being older I see the same dots on me
Tickling my skin, imagination
Wonders of where they began.
Whenever we stand side by side I see myself in you
In the dots
I see my grandma, her warts, her spots.
You try to hide warts with make up that’s dark.
A cheetah without spots is a mere cat
You without your identifiers, undone.
Lost is our familial lineage
The unique identity in one mark.

Warts grow, expand,
unplanned.
They attributed Edith May’s to cancer
She says; “my God made me this way”
Warts maturing as the mind does
As the heart grows
As do your wings
angel.

A Song of Love

I study your face,
memorizing every freckle
mesmerized by the sharp contours of your jawline
and every hair that frames it so perfectly
the small dimple in your cheek when you smile broadens in the way you reserve for only me.
The ways your eyes soften when we make contact,
yet reflect strength;
a stoic simplicity,
in a simple blink.
Your idiosyncrasies have me falling so deeply in love with you.
Finding a magnitude of detail and desire
in the way your eyes retire from mine when I’ve won a fight,
yet always retrace the lines back to my gaze in a maze of intricacies
until our lips meet gently, ceasing my fantasy.

I memorize the details of your face
in hopes that if we ever part,
these memories will regenerate in my mind.
I revel in every moment that you are mine reminiscing of a time I yearned for a love filled with beauty between the lines.