Category: poetry

wounded healer

so many nicks, cuts, bumps and bruises

not a moment to breathe without bumping into it.

that broken, sad child is me.

only wanting love and peace.

but instead they pick me a part.

stab me in the back to eat out my heart.

plucking each hair of imperfection

lest i walk freely in some imagined deception

your critical eye

where were your fingers when i needed a touch of grace?

where were your hands to wipe my tear streamed face?

your sharp tongue

where were your lips when i needed a kind word?

where was your kiss to soothe where it hurts?

provision is not an excuse for your derision.

protection should not be your reasons for oppression.

but how can the wounded heal,

without tending to themselves?

how can the wounded hear

over their own silent cries for help?

unsubscribe

this membership no longer serves me

as a customer, you do not deserve me.

every year the subscription increases

deliveries turn up in pieces.

infrequent, sub par, all smoke and no fire

delinquent, bizarre, an insurmountable pyre.

not giving all it was supposed to have gave

newsletter says, the customer is to blame.

demand is too high,

expectations unrealistic,

“look around, are you blind?

we’re the best in business!

you signed the dotted line,

can’t kick us to the curb!”

well I pay too much damn money

to be underserved.

as a loyal customer I know you can find another,

I was your first, I know what they’ll discover.

but I promise I won’t give the disclaimer away,

they’ll never believe me, the campaigns underway.

so quietly i click, no response or reply

i humbly confirm, and click unsubscribe.

love, me.

where have we been? where have we gone?

up to this moment, what’s right and what’s wrong?

in suspension, so apprehensive.

the only thing i can do, is be the one who loves you.

all trust has been lost, so we start from zero.

counting the cost, and becoming your own hero.

everything is a blur, illusions abound.

no running, no jumping on the merry go round.

the light and the dark, the good and the bad.

the joy in your eyes, the ache when you’re sad.

the gifts and the talents, the pain and the malice

the temptation to just throw the whole thing away

easily be the victim and everyone else is to blame.

but you made the choice, chose to hide and not voice,

the power and sovereignty you submitted to formalities.

to gods and men, both white and black

until it was your self that was under attack.

deconstruct, decolonize, denounce all you know,

just a seed that’s been planted and starting to grow.

your roots will grow deep as you stretch for the sun,

Spirit and ancestors shield their precious chosen one.

breaking curses, chains and traditions of men,

like a phoenix you rise, a star in the heavens.

gratitude, breathe and release the trauma,

surrender, love and flow through the drama.

you are beautiful, wonderful so creative and free,

you’ve finally learned to love, me.

scream

inside of me is a bellow.

a shriek that pierces the heavens,

yet echos against the bars of this prison im in.

me sick of you and the filth of me.

so loud, filled with pain and fear.

just cuz im grown that dont mean i cant hear,

that bellow inside of you spilling tears.

heartache filling up like rivers in the cracks of you

of me

inside of me too.

i scream.

fragility’s rage

For some the pain of frustration leads to a tumult

of tantrums and a verbose vomit spewing of anger and hate.

Shattering the heart – yet building walls.

Constructed by cold avoidance and confusion,

yet picked away by a romantic gesture or two.

A fickle memory born of words better left unsaid.

Heavy hands upon a tender child desiring mother’s love.

Perhaps ones formative years indeed defines today.

Fragility’s rage

is a tortoise in its shell

When danger comes, pull in, don’t run like hell.

Flashbacks and words fall upon that shanty,

Accusations now muffles within the cramped cavity.

But when no one is looking fragility’s rage

is like a magicians token quote,

“no you see me, now you don’t.”