Memories, Reminders and Life

Remember a couple posts ago I told you I *may* one day share my poem with you? Well, whether you remember or not, you're in for a special treat!

Some eye candy. Art by Artist One, Color and yours truly.

I need reminders to keep me on my track of happiness and balance. We all stumble and fall, and it's up to us to pick ourselves back up and start again. The book, "The Little Engine that Could" comes to mind. When I have these moments of "ah-HA" and bring myself back to my happy place, art comes from those times. This poem came from some research I was doing for my photo documentary on Women in Hip Hop. I was reading Joan Morgan's "When Chickheads Come Home to Roost: My Life as a Hip Hop Feminist". My "ah-HA" moment came from me realizing why the word Feminism by itself was not a comfortable label for me. It came with all kind of other innuendos that I was sick and tired of hearing about. After reading Morgan's book, this is what I had to say.

Contemplating where I belong in a society where my actions, sometimes labeled as feminist, move me to scream and kick yelling, "MY FEMINISM IS MINE TO DEFINE!".

I let my cleave see the sun and my heals click on the pavement, as I embrace my feminine side without loosing the power to control my life.

Learning to be vulnerable as I process and change my lack of effective communication, why must I dwell in the affliction of the womb which I once descended?

Seeking harmony where I sometimes loose myself in relationships where I cover my insecurities with passionate love for my man, but keeping myself at a safe distance so I can act out my emotions, and not take responsibility for the loss of my emotional control. 

To be with me is a fatal blessings...my passionate love and high expectations for myself as well as you...my partner, lover, friend...

Can you be strong for me, while I'm strong for you?

I try not to hold onto my fear as a shield, but those fears manifest themselves into the confusion of life and past behaviors surface.

I must separate myself from those that crutch my love, as my crutches can only fit me.

Trying not to drown in my strength, for my weakness is fearing the side of me that needs another.

I can feel whole without someone by my side, but why should I void out companionship if I live to love?

Fueling my desire to be seen and heard without being judged by my clothes, my politics, my education...understanding that I am a woman to be reckoned with, I do deserve the love and understanding of a good man.

We can be mirrors of each other as we navigate life. 

As Jill Scott once said, "Let's take a long walk," for our movement will break barriers of what it means to be known as one, improving on the relations of our cultures, our genders, our love...

Let's build on the love that is needed to produce the family that hold sacred our ancestors struggle.

For our resistance to the status-quo will stimulate our development of our youth to breed consciousness.

No longer wanting to bear the scars of our parent's choices, we'll swim freely remembering our times as muses to those once loved, as we create history for our children to cultivate into beings that do not fear love, faith and passion, let them bask in the blessings of Yemaya, and let us see the truth in the matters of the divine.

I am living without regret, but the love of a good man is hard to forget.

I pray that some day we'll find ourselves in this world that remembers pain as a medal, but fears the scars of the soul.

Being vulnerable to the elements dose not make us worthy, for our worth in s in the wisdom we derive from our pain.

Dedicated to my lover, partner, and best friend...te quiero mucho. Till next time, love, love, love.

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