Being a nice girl is never enough.

sometimes being a nice girl is such a crutch. my inside voice, when i was young, always said: they are not gonna like what i got to say. i was raised that this was being a lady and that was being a lady. when i spoke from my heart, it was always: you gonna have a heart attack, that's enough!, get in your place. sometimes ignored. i was always loved, though. it was easier to be nice + helpful+ quiet. easy to look pretty feeling ugly. i hated nice but it was so easy. i couldn't be mean, but i could be mad. thank God for art.
when my husband was killed, i had anger. i used that beginning mourning period to be and say whatever i wanted. needed. nicely, but unapologetically. the new folk i met dancing, only knew this bold thing with big smile and batting eyes. full of flirty fun. oh, i made noise. just nothing that truly opened my voice. opened me. thank God for movement. music. drums. beads and paint. lovers...i've been hiding my voice in them ever since. most times i feel nothing. i search and fill. it is never enough.
i'm so tired. my throat chakra is struggling. there's a prologue, i've yet to share. there's scenes my mind won't delete. there's set and costume changes i hide in the pupils of my eyes. you don't know me. i'm not sure if i will ever...but i'm not too sure i have a choice. so, i'm grateful for this time with my Ori. i happily discard heaviness daily. i even pray when i'm walking. i know i'm in there somewhere. i have never been more excited to find out!

12/13/14

Womangirl

This womangirl was quite forgotten. Played nice and soft spoke and helped those that could more than help themselves. They labeled her "cute" and shoved her in a box, no matter her brilliance. And she accepted it. Pain too vast to see herself any other way.
She created through storms, heartaches and missteps. Her pen, unrelenting. Her veneer, pleasant chiffon; her insides: bloody Sekhmet at battle. Her shadow self present and ready for war.
They claimed her as theirs alone. No one cared enough to know HER. The anonymity brought false power. She sat in that BOX like throne, never rushing herself to being. Someone always saw and wanted something they could see but thought she didn't know she had. They only came to take.
She sat at the water with her offering of beer, oranges, a cigar and tears. A safe space to be. Pulled out receipts from meaningless things and wrote a manifesto of sorts with her kohl eyeliner: the womangirl declared to win. She desired a life filled with her own creative work and much less pain. Success by her own hands. She ordained herself Queen: to own, to honor and give to herself inside and out. No matter the hands that touched and took. No matter the lack of acknowledgement, attempts to silence or destroy. She was Queen of her own making. She welcomed the necessary yet brutal cleansing. There was no more hiding place. Her throne was wherever she felt fit to place her crown.

Intertidal Zone

i.

Fierce wind in trees when he speaks to me
Unabashedly strong and sweet
Eyes ocean vast wide and salty fresh
He listens when I think he's lost in thought
Wipes hair from my face; whispers: sweetheart.

ii.

You scare me. Leave me vunerable without bones. Tread lightly into my dark side. I gasp and cover up quickly. You turn into secret coves. I am quiet with myself. Processing: you wonder if there's space for you. The mask makes you angry. Forlorn. You search my underground. I grab your feet. Your hands free grabbing sea stars. Seaweed. Sand. The illusion of safety. The security in fear.

iii.

She walked in from high tide. Never without wetness or roar. Her full self so integral, intimate, succulent like fresh mango dripping juice. Her love: a transformation room.

He loved her for himself but didn't see her. Each time she spoke, he wished her small.

iv.

We were magic. Maybe I brought magic with me. You always thought me fantastic and too much. Memories of that blues club I forget. A special drink: pink and strong. How they played for us extra long; we danced and danced! You couldn't hide it. You loved me.

v.

He won't call and he shouldn't. Can't find no joy outside of what should be and what should it be and shit. Dreams and ethers! I'm ok with truth long as I can walk away cloaked in it.

He doesn't want me to love him but wants my love. He says I love you and doesn't remember. I love him but won't really tell him. Says he's not ready but moves differently. Travels far to forget me. Comes back to be loved. And I love him anyway. I love him any way.

Circle Window

She went to the attic of herself.
Cobwebs clouding dimly lit lonely light bulb and chain near the opening of the stairs.
Too many times in this room. Dust in corners. The middle of the floor: neglected things, picked through, left out. No care. Like that tiny circle window to the left. Smudged, chipped, old dirt white painted circle window.
A spider softly crawls over layers of yellow weather worn lace.
Damp denseness is sorrow.
A place she goes to forget.
Where things are forgotten.
Where she is forgettable, she sits with spiders and cobweb chandeliers. Silkened wonderland of memories.
The attic. The first place she felt free.

Relay Race

My children and I
With these smiles juxtaposed with
Holes of loss and longing
We hold on tight
Create space to be
Be-ing is necessity in this
Wilderness
I lead with scattered thoughts of
How and which and even then
When my daughter sings and my son laughs
I am taken aback
Illusionary strength to them
Weakness in thought to me
Endless action
Days without touch
An ear/ true grounding
Yet I still get up
I push thru
I seek solace in
Kindred mamas who search for breath
In the smallest of ways
Resuscitation a relay race
This sport between mamas who have
No choice/ no real voice
So
I push to make, to create, to conjure
Big life in baby steps
I know this path
This magic is what I get
Reminding myself each minute
It's not JUST ME
So
I work and work and work
To be free

Extraordinarily So

So easy to fall into words
Electric birds
Flickering lights
Red, green, gold and blue
Still shots of your hair
I can smell you/ your
Gaze steam rising

This one and that one and that one and this over there

So many flowers you want to pluck

Tell the truth, you just wanna fuck

I know this is not especially special
Yet extraordinarily so

Maybe you're just talking shit
Maybe you mean all of it

You like to come out and play
Gathering inspiration
You ain't fooling me
I know exactly where
I give my energy

Won't get caught up

Cuz of quick sensations

So easy to fall into words

So Close

Tickle me touch me inside
Tongue talking traffic walking
Cigar fizz and you cough-
Speak lower slower
Quick laugh
Hey! You say
I snap back inside this moment
Breath hot wet
I lay on the bed
Get up
Adjust positions
In my chair
Phone so close to my lips
I lick
I hear your cigar fizz