Letters to Lovers Long Gone Pt.I November 12, 2009

To the Dragon…

I must confess I still hate you.  The truth is the thought of you still fills me with a dull ache…a latent anger that will only ever be directed towards you. I hold you accountable…still…for all that you took from me. I have yet to regain faith in myself after letting you take it; and  then letting you get away with taking it.

 

It seems like another lifetime. In essence I guess it was. Then I was a girl-woman…confused and trying to be grown too soon. Wanting to love and be loved so badly that I began to think that what we had was love, and that what I was experiencing was normal…until it was just that…my normal.

 

I do not hate you for the typical indiscretions that young men are entitled to commit at least once.  I hate you most because of your inherent greed. Your desire to have it all…all of me…the very Essence of me. I have yet to forgive you for the ways in which you reached deep inside me with the sole intent to silence me. Silence me in order to possess me. To possess a Me that was silent and accepting of the succession of nothings you tried to force-feed me.

 

You tried to silence my voice…and nurtured the dim thought that already lay sleeping within me that I was not enough; and that my words did not count. Feeding my fear that what I had to say did not matter.  You taught me to fight. Dirty.  You taught me that love is not always safe; and that sometimes trust can in fact be misplaced. You taught me valuable lessons that I was not ready to learn, but am thankful that I did…and I hate you still.

 

Blinded by your luminescence…enthralled by the thrill of you, and the promise of visibility that being ‘yours’ brought I stepped into the labyrinth. In truth, I do not even know when I got lost in you; but i did.  So scared to move on…terrified of the wrath of your anger I stayed. Through the raging fits which encircled me in your fire, and the sick lovemaking that would invariably follow…I stayed…learning to quiet my voice while screaming inside.

 

I fought back though. I know that it infuriated you; but I fought. I fought to move on and move forward…but it just occurred to me; after all this time, that I hate you still.

 

I… November 5, 2009

I

I am building a Life

Coloured with Me-Centred experiences

Fabulous and Manic

episodes of Undoing and

Becoming

Stretched Across a Highway of Time

 

I find mySelf at corners and hidden in shadows

Waiting Expectantly

 

I

I am Woman led to the stake

only to be Born Anew

I am Mother. Daughter. Sister. Lover. Friend.

The archetype and the anomaly

a Waking contradiction

Firmly bound together

by the magnitude of Me.

Stuck… October 22, 2009

I am scared of being alone. I am terrified of loving someone.

I am scared of building another wall.  I am terrified of being homeless.

I am stuck.

Profiles… October 21, 2009

…They sit on the side of the road. Two Ebony-and-Caramel skinned men separated by generations.  Oblivious to the cars passing them by…to the people stopping at the stall next to them to buy cigarettes and sugary coloured water…They are focussed; staring at the pages of the book in front of them.  The Elder is teaching him algebra under the streetlight; and the young man is listening intently. They are living contradictions of harmful stereotypes.  It makes me so happy to see them; yet so sad that they stand out so much.

…She walks in to the JSPCA to give her dog away.  An older woman with grey locks and a kind face.  She lives alone she says, and she is not working…she can no longer afford to own a dog.  As she fills out the papers to surrender her companion, she talks incessantly. She seems excitable…slightly annoying. She is nervous. Walking out of the yard she breaks down in tears at the side of the road. She is holding her head and her stomach. We talk and she says she can no longer afford to feed him because she is jobless; and it occurs to me that this ‘economic crisis’ is hitting people in the most unusual and hurtful of ways.

…As dusk falls, the rain comes down lightly on Jack’s Hill. Three shadows slowly make their way uphill, each of them carrying a heavy burden. One tall woman, and two small children…silhouetted as large SUVs drive by, rushing to get home; illuminating them briefly in the glare of their headlights.  I also drive by at first, then remind myself that I too am a mother, and I know how tired I am at the end of the day. The hill is steep, and I can see by how slowly she moves that she is tired. I turn the car around and ask her if she needs a ride. She tells me her name is Vivene; and when I drop her home she asks if I know someone with any day’s work. I shake my head and extend my hand to her…as we shake hands goodbye, I keep noticing how large her hands are…like those of a man. She keeps saying ‘Thank You’ and ‘God Bless you’, and as i drive off i think that she is glorifying me as though I have done something exceptional; which I haven’t. I really just stopped because one day…it may be me who needs a drop.

He… October 19, 2009

He whispered all the things

i thought i wanted to hear…

Sweet nothings disguised as Some Thing

Special

He touched me in all of the places

i thought i wanted to be touched…

Probing fingers trying to grab

the Essence of Me.

Black Love… October 15, 2009

Tonight he comes home.  He has been in exile.  An Ebony King, slightly bruised, eyes wide and heart open…alert and happy, yet cautious. He is stronger than he remembers.  He is home to remember.

She will welcome him home with open arms. Her love for him remains, tested but not tarnished.  His Queen; mother of his seeds.  Her arms will hold him firmly; and for the first time, in a long time, she will sink into the soft and firm love of her Lover…and relax…

Their children will watch him with curious wonder at first, and will soon consume him, revelling in the Light of their parent’s Love; knowing that they were created in it, so they must be Divine.

Tonight all those who are lucky enough to share in that first moment will all be thankFul to have been there.  There to see when his young Bloods and his Queen lay eyes on Him, and when he sees how they’ve all changed…and grown.  Each of them will hold their Lover tighter tonight; chilled by the absolute beauty and endurance of Black Love.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm………………….

Bumboclaaat… October 15, 2009

Life can be fucking confusing sometimes.

Jah know.

Rambling… October 14, 2009

Looking at her curled up peacefully in a little ball…my Sleeping Beauty…I am reminded of all of the things in my life that have brought me to this Perfect Moment. Her…asleep in my arms…Me – being the only Me that I know how right now…Danielle…Oyadele…Her Mother. 

 

I think of the blows, and how they have always been balanced with belly-wrenching laughter. I think of how every time I fall, there has always been a chorus of voices urging me to stand, affirming my strength by allowing me to be strong.

 

I think of my own Father…tall, handsome and strong…hoisting me on to his shoulders, or sitting me on the machine to sing “Danielle and her Daddy, Sitting on the Washing Machine, Round and round and round it goes…Washing all those dirty clothes” I think of the pain it caused me when I realised that he was not a Hero, but a man.

 

I think of my Mother as I see her in photos. Stunningly Beautiful…always by my side…yet often far away. Absorbed I think, in her own pain. 

 

I think of first loves…and first kisses; my first time…and the first time I that I was someone’s first. I remember first heartbreak and first spliffs…First “I love yous”, and last kisses goodbye.

 

I look at her and I realise that getting to where I am now has been a constant process of firsts and lasts…Births and Deaths. Nothing illuminates you quite like new love; and nothing is colder than when the light of love disappears. I can see how over the years, I have become cloaked in layers of armoured skin; all the while having other layers peeled away through the openness of loving and being loved.

 

The process of re-Creation is Sacred…even when it hurts like fuck.  Maybe it’s because it is so much bigger than us that we grapple with it so consistently.  Our Ancestors knew that sometimes in order to grow new Life, you had to Slash and Burn. There is truth in the imagery of Burning in Hell; but it seems to me that this is more like baptism by fire than eternal damnation. It is in conquering the difficult that we learn to appreciate just how truly simple Life Is.

 

…Because the Truth of it is…Life is Simple. We were not brought all this way to suffer; but to succeed. 

I remember that often, when I look at her.

In Remembrance…For my dawta. October 13, 2009

 

As You come to the paths ahead… You must make a decision to choose one.

 

You must forge ahead in the certainty that Your steps lead You ever closer to Success; and that Failure has never been a part of Your DNA.  

 

The beauty on Your path is determined by the expansiveness of Your mind…So let the Height of Your Imagination mirror the breadth of Your Desire, and Dream Big!

 

You must divest Your Self of the notion that You are lacking or flawed. Never be possessed by the idea that Divinity is bestowed upon others, while denied to You. As does the Light of Life inhabit and illuminate the eyes of those You admire, so too does it shine out from within You.  As far as the wings of Your sister can spread, so too can Yours. So fly!

 

There is no space in Creation that is not Your own. Your blood has been spilt across lands and generations…inhabiting and feeding the soil…claiming the World as Your birthright.

 

There is no peak You cannot climb…Remember…

 

Your Ancestors have been scaling mountains and crossing oceans long before Time knew Her own name.

conversations… October 10, 2009

What I miss most is our conversations. Hours upon hours of talking are now replaced by the silence left by each other’s voices. Chance meetings become weighty…as we try to bring normalcy to the abnormalcy of our situation. Countless minutes filled with chatter and sweet imaginings, now diverted to other things in order to forget and keep moving.