It’s late and I am in the mood to not sleep, the meds keep it hard to drift off into the late night and the hum of the book I am suppose to be writing highlights the thoughts in my head. Instead Rollbounce plays in the background and I find myself thinking how my thoughts are not the same as they use to be. It’s harder for me to complete thoughts. My clarity of thought is not the same. The tumor that has covered my brain has changed me and I keep thinking has it changed my writing for the better or the worse. I know it has changed the desire in me to write but it’s still their. I am reading more of other people’s work. I am more aggressive in my approach. Or better yet my attitutde is uglier or more aggressive but it takes me to a different place of thought.. the thought or kind of thought that makes me want to know more about progressing the writing further.. who is this writer becoming who will she be. The thing that has not changed is the wanting to write, the wanting to be heard. Now I am thinking of writing the good fight. My auntie sent me a article about th way we need to recycle.. which we should already know but it seems we still don’t. so my idea today is we can at least give it to the homeless guy on the street who is trying to make his dollar ou fo fifteen cents.. that way the responsibility is not ours but we still get the job donewritesometi
Tag Archives: acceptance
So I have began to fall back on the inhale and exhale of the nicotine silent killer… The new commercial featuring the removal of teeth plays in my head… And then I realized… The more time I talk on the phone… The more the drags extend themselves…. The more I talk on the phone the more the desire to suspend my lungs at death expectancy sooner calls to me…. So I amended behaviors… Indoors, movies, a book something else and now my pack a day I had stepped up yo has been reduced to the impressive number of a pack per five days… The glee in my heArt is profound… Screw you nicotine… I will kick you yet. A girl is human dome days are harder then others…. But I’m making strides.. Oh cigs… We gotta break up… I just don’t want this type of love in my life… You stink… And well u just don’t do the things you use to do.. I mean.. You don’t Dorothea my tattered thoughts… You make me see toothless men, you remind me of dirty days and broken highways…. In the height of morning we may meet… Or after a delicious meal… But doing the meals will be less and then you will be a distant memory… I really just font think I want you anymore!!!
Knowing what comes next, is a thought that is percieved as if knowing, will in some way keep you from the darkness of life. The disappointment, the lost, the pain, the rejection. If we just know what is going to be, we can somehow make each day full of something possible positive. Hope, faith, belief, we find these cast wrapped around our broken moments, days. The memories are settled into these infinite cast of knowing that with each obstacle left to heal in it’s aftermath will one day mend, and that cast can be removed and the truth of the repaired perception will give us rehabilation. A new route to the already destined destination of our lives. If we only knew what the next maze held, a resting place, a new travelor to connect with,a dragon breathing it’s heat of new pains, a well with new gains. If only I knew what was coming next, I would be able to survive the step to the end. Yet knowing is only a crutch, how many identical steps would we ultimately take… most likely more than a few. Knowing does nothing but make you accountable for being accountable for each choice. In living with the unknown we begin a novice, able to wear the naviety with pride, instead of shame. I have known, I have seen, but didn’t learn. If only I didn’t have to wonder about what was coming next I would be free.. free to live, to learn, to own each choice golden, each choice failed, and each choice of undefined.
It’s been just you and I for our entire life. From the moment of conception, in those weary days where the outside world beyond mom’s womb has not exactly made a concrete decision on whether we were even yet a person or not, it has been us, or better yet I. We wouldn’t want the world to believe that I or better yet we are mentally unstable.You are my former self and I have separated us for the pure fact that I have extricated myself from you by experience and pain, by forgiveness and well, just plain old growth and evolution. I have evolved beyond the moments of tears for nothing, or getting high for escape. Instead I have chosen to embrace my mistakes, and forgive the moments that we have experienced that have caused me or us pain. I feel less pain today then I did when I was a complete replica of you and I want you to know that I forgive you as well. I forgive you for your mistakes, for your misguided attempts at living, and I applaud you for your candor and your risks in life. If their was no you, there would be no me. Sometimes I think of you and I create advice for the similar situations in which I experience, I know that you know the paths that I should have taken even when I forget. You are close to God, new in your faith and open to see the miracles in the daily life you lead, where I have fallen short of belief, faith and hope in the present. It’s why I wanted to write you and I hope you write me back, because I have come full circle to the moment that changed us. Right before the fist of our sister contacted with our flesh over something as menial as the dvr. We lived and we forgave her, and we tried to show the belief of forgiveness in our actions to be here, struggling after so many positive decisions. Yet we are judged by those who were around us with no true understanding of who we were and who we are. Telling stories of us being “cracked out” and laughing about it as though it was true. We were much more willing to be honest with the them and our self, and in living a view more days, experiencing a few more things we have forgotten to believe in people, we have forgotten to not just forgive them their misgivings but forgive our self for wanting to still believe even when we should do so from afar. I have lost my ability to just keep looking on them with loving eyes and saying, it’s okay to be you, but you will not make me less because of who you are. This letter to me, about two years ago wants to say I forgive you believing that the choices you made would not affect the person I am today whether the choices were good or bad. I miss you in so many ways, I miss our freedom, but I love my growth. For a long time what people thought meant something to us back then but you didn’t care what they thought, you loved, and lived and were just who you were at that moment and I am not going to lie, I miss that part of me, that freedom, that reflection of who you were to us, and I mean us because while they have the negative to say, they forget to talk about how you listened, how you forgave, how you learned through humility to be kind. They forgot that while you listened to them state their emotional standpoints you really never said much, you just smiled and wrote it all down, Those who have remained have seen the growth and know who you are, those who have left you behind have lost the opportunity to know me. The people who got me through those days have had that same opportunity to meet the knew you and you are much stronger now, you have transformed into me, You may not know anymore what to do with the daily, but you know how to treat a person. You would be proud of some our changes, and others would make you sad because you liked your bad but if we don’t talk sometimes,I might forget that how people see you matters, it just doesn’t mean the world. That opinion is God’s alone and let’s be frank,he loves you, he loves me and well he always knew.
Did I imagine your sincerity? Or Did I Just fall victim to the ageless disease of a woman loving a Man who while loving me will never be in Love with….me. It’s a beautiful pain. Wills your faith to a strength that causes non believers to embrace miracles. You learn lessons of unconditional love that humbles your perception of humanity. The importance of appreaciation is visible in your attitude. A woman in love with a Man who seems to not see the love she would provide, yet still in that same moment of lost dreams drowned by tears, will Bless that love he so strongly Feels for another. This woman will open her arms, whisper in his ear… Allow her the best parts of you, and I pray she see’s you.
Did I imagine the connection shared? Its inexplicable how a pain can give you a growth that enables your belief in destiny. Or is it Just me? So madly lost in…. This… This feeling I would testify is love, but unable to recieve. I admire it, it owns Its on lifeline. It breathes without me hosting it’s needs. My days dont eñe without a thought of This man. His truth, his clase, even the Love he gives to another amplifies his image in my eyes. On his worse days buried. Beneath life, I feel his struggle. Do I imagine the finality of This condition, that This thing I testify as love will stay with my movement, my being. It only ails me on days that I forget to breathe, the days that he taught me to embrace and never ignore. The best of the worse amount of dissonance you can bear will remind that fruits are not of labor but tenacity. Some love you dont get to choose to forget, it marks you. I wouldnt choose to remove the experience of his scejt left behind, his
vulnerabilty only revealed poetic mumblings, his life intertwined with mind. No tears as refreshing as the those ayer for him.
I admire This love, that has been born and grown strong. It has survived our murder of kindness, our rape’s of intimacy. Our slaughter of blessings given. We tarnished puré golden monents with denial, yet We thrive, still answering When the calle are places, still try to understand how the acceptance of This beautiful pain can be anything other than sintul. I know I should go and he knows he should allow me to be able to be whole. Yet Love so unselfishly selfish holds on to Its core value of inexplicable reason and meaning. Its prayer of ability to surrender to faith. When Its time for This thing I testify is love to complete it’s course it will go quietly, speaking a soft goodbye. It will go with patient respect of me.
We cant define, decide or delegate Its purpose, introduction, presence or partner.
Some Love isnt What We create, some love is What We cant escape, What We Want to be, What We need to Keep going…Its remnants kept alive in our altered preception.
Raging screams of anger quell deep within the lost thoughts and the burned bitter regret of not trying harder, not wanting more for the person who was gone the moment I left the sunny palmed streets I called home in late August of 1999. I wanted and wished for nothing more than to rid myself of not being apart of, not being accepted, of being Wugga. The name stung my chapped lips, hot and ragged gasps of air held me in my churning pit of want. The want was the addiction, the drug, the true burn to run far way from the here that has claimed me once again, the crossroads another day looks so much like the same one I sat in front of before with life full of opportunity. Funny how then possiability was a foreign tongue, beautiful but unable to be translated into the language that I spoke in those days. So willing to jump, without fear, naive to the opportunity of making choices beyond the emotional downpour of hurt and people who use the hurt to examine your vulnerabilities to make weaknesses appear like a flaw that is ugly and dirty. Yet, weakness was the mask left on a blind face of strength in eyes that didn’t fear wrong or right. Right can never be wrong, even when it’s chain and ball feel like pain over dungeons of hell like wanting and needing to be seen in the right because wrong was not the multiple choice option chosen. To do right in the eyes of being seen again will yield no more beautiful days then the wrongs done in not being seen. We feel and we continue to feel even when feeling numbs the distinction of each feeling to be identified. Just like the words of a language so beautiful to the ear yet completely lost in the unknown to the mind.
Possibility has saved many good men, many beautiful expectant mothers and children unborn, more mistake than miracle expected. Possiability has saved lives unable to forgive reflections of days pasted, of mistakes burdening the ability to give hope a role in the experience of living. The road so familiar met again, with that same hurt holding on, riding my back. Inhale breath, exhale breath, keep breathing, (thank you Keith, thank you netflix, thank you tv, thank you home, thank jyou past) it’s all going to be okay. No breath exhaled is one that is for nothing. no struggle! no triumph! It is possible to survive each breath, those links to keep living even those struggling to escape fearing that the next will be harder to release, the one after unable to survive the possibability of failing.
The screams are loud and resounding, the distant ache of hurt buried behind smiles that don’t spread far enough, of laughs never truly felt, of people who don’t make it to the experience of the better version of me. The anger is louder, and louder, it screams but it never reaches the surface, never burns through to my heartbeat. It lingers in the shadows hoping to take my hope for possiability, to take the road traveled again for fear is no longer here but a lost of risk is just as stagnanting, just as harmful, don’t lose the ability to risk for possiability.
Dear God give me my faith to leave here where fear is binding and bounds us to the belief that love is lost on the undeserved, that love is a lost art given to those who buy it, those who leave it bruised and broken, endanger it’s species of change. I am not that girl, Yet I am not that girl left at this road again, to make decision of lessons never learned. I am not the girl who does not risk the ability to be, or am I.
Here in this alcove, I have hid, hid myself away from the world, hoping to find the the best of me who was buried beneath those ashes of regret, and sadness, the jones that allowed me to lose my belief in hoping for me. Hope lived in my heart for those around me built bridges of love to understanding, each whisper they spoke unto my ear fueled the ability to keep the hoping beating, feeding the opportunity for healing and now they old fires sparks, they never did burn dry, never really were ashes. That flame again thirsty for my tears. The eyes of my desire have been dry from the inability to lose touch with vulnerable. For this cave was no place of safety, no place of opportunity. This place was a a lying sheep, only disguised like good, only disguised as safe. This place was the beginning of, the reason why, the timeline ‘s beginning to choices made unfearful, not destined, languishing in disbelief. A cacophony of whispering memories, haunt my present self. Home looked good in the eyes of storms, yet storms don’t really leave as much as they move when systems of negating factors of wind, and water meet in experiences needing a smell of fresh, a day of new and the storm has come again.
Change is looming dark clouds of unknown sit in the distance. The night is dark, the day to light, and darkness is closing in on my heart, Unable to stay here with resolution only within my actions. The still is cold, the quiet born again, a rebirth of silence, solitude in the mist of a crowded past, yet the solitude is not deafening with sounds of that past. A newly planted tree on the side of the road. The quiet no longer a trigger to pull, no gun of bad choices in my hand, no targets of core pain. The whispers are much different then before, now possible is a language so fluent to my ear, so uncomplicated. These looming clouds, in these final days of confronting accountability, they hang high haunting me, the spirits of serenity. I am haunted, the clouds in my sky they haunt me with haunting ideas of new, haunting signs of move, haunting abilities to be fearless, haunting opportunity for great fortitude, for the most miraculous moment to take off the training me and use this person in a world, that does not know how to embrace the negative of the past days, of mistakes made, of moments that being the person on the other side of my reflection creates shame, so I shed the name of my past, shed the name of mistake, shed the shame of wrong choices chosen. I am choosing me, and the screams they quiet, and although fear lingers near my door it looks like challenge instead of obstacle, it smells so much like possibility, it feels like opportunity.
Maybe that tumble in my gut, in the core of desire is just the pit of fright I need to excel beyond just and reach for more , to even the score, for those loans of love I have given only to have the debt paid to me in unkindess, high interest of change. Maybe today is not an end with waiting on the looming clouds to destroy a new day. In the light of day, with a reflecting sun it may spread open with a many colors shinning, may look more like yet another door, a new rainbow. A rainbow that says like the book says, that it may rain but never again destroy your world. May rain, and the pain may remain arriving some days but never devasting the same way, in the same places. I inhale, drag slow, and deliberate, my rainbow is near.
a little bit like that girl who stood here with a four way signal, yet without the knowledge of how beautiful the open road can be, when a two way street doesn’t restrict, but demands that you be big. Bigger than circumstance, here on the open road the high way is not able to be manipulated with with a u turn, no busting a bitch here. Yet I look all around and the pain still lingers, it still burns way deep down under the new pavement, yet the road ahead is open, clear. Reaching out I see shinning, glittery obstructions catching my inner light, i see the jewels within left by this storm. I look back and see nothing standing so much has washed away. Some good but most the depris of unresolved anger. I look forward again and it shines brighter, forgiveness is within my treasure, kindness, change. The rain had left and come so many times, so many times, each storm taking pieces of my hope, my belief, my faith, my honor, my ability to choose for possible, and possibaility it was not here before, now it shines within the sun that lives within me, that single light of seeing. My rainbow is here, and at the road in the light, looks so right, , so clear leading to to ability to see more. The obstructions also bare a future, and it doesn’t look like right, but it’s very very bright.
I heard some time ago when we were at a fork in the road we were on that sometimes we must go hunting inside ourselves, to rid ourselves of our darkest parts, because if we don’t we would just become them. I almost lost myself to that dark. I met so many of us, experienced them each with vigor and without fear, then I began to realize I wasn’t hunting, I had become your prey. You were hunting me, not to kill me, but to live here so you could feel the heat of the sun. I am not angry with you wanting to believe that you needed to live. I promise you won’t die, your my innoence, where my belief was born, you didn’t believe enough in you, in your worth , in your precious part of how we become home, and I vow to never let you die in pursuit of getting to know more positive, we didn’t believe with eyes or stories heard, we had to go seek, but I am here, will never leave you, now that I have survived the worst of it’s consequence, without you innoence, we would have never met perservence, your inability to just be told, has built a prototype a mold that can never stripped of it’s purpose or beauty. You allowed me to forgive, because you hate a lonely home. The shade is only temporary and best with it becomes to hot, and we become frustrated and sticky with hurt. You met resentment, you met neglect, you met complancy, and while they were not toxic to others, it was our kyprotonite. It caused us to lose our first love, we were so close to dying, we resulted to pairing with dependency, lived on gluttony, hung with denying, and we almost lost you innoence. Never again, you have my words, you have my vow, that I will hunt daily so not to allow us to die looking for love, that we have here. Yes, I love you. We traveled to One Tree Hill and we found inspiration and inspiration has got some good friends, and shows himself more now then ever, we may not have those outside rallying for us, not a whole stand of supporters, but the few we have deserve our ability to not only believe in possiability but apply it to opportunity, and that’ can’t happen here, being bulliedd by fear. Here in the between, faith is powerless, we must choose, and it’s time now and you don’t need to hide, I need you now more than ever, I need that piece that does not care about how long fear lingers, she is a fool for the ride, being peaceful you have t asted it now, but it was just a taste, because you hid, afraid that if you appeared it would take you, but you didn’t notice how much had grown, now faith is our roommate and we live in our heart, so self sustaiining, It’s time you join me, say goodbye to Wugga who can be left here, she is the soildier, whering her medals of honor, she was strong, and loud, and showed them why she lead this army, she forgave it all, she taught us how to fall, get up and have no shame in shedding the name given, to wear the name earned and stand upright and tall. That’s right.. let’s take this ride, you feel the heat of that light on your skin, no more survive, what do you say? Ready? Let’s do it… Let’s thrive
With Love, A’Nya Khadija Monea Lewis
PS. I like your new Label.. Nya Monea, sounds good to me
The Weapon, The Cure, The Reason
in the mirror I see you,
their in the slant of my eyes
at your featured cleft copied to my chin
Can’t escape the you that’s is the beginning to my core
can’t take away from the four
identifying marks that label me yours
you aversion to love, you abuse of truth
I can’t escape which I was dervived of
Can’t erase what I arrived from
All of it a part of me
even the dark dingy parts that make me want to resists myself
violently, denying any parts of you reside within
as much as I want to use the word hate to combat the lack of love shown
with each hurt feeling bruise of your lack of action , I have grown
I know I can’t change you but use you as a propelled in flesh example of what not to be
you see even in the pain, wet from tears pouring like rain
those portals of rain became the chain of links that left me with truth
disappointment of desire to have arms circled around my misunderstanding
taught the lesson that even those issued jobs of caring won’t care if God is not present in their intent
to some extinct
the sadness has become pity
A sentence of infinity deadbolt locked to life, here in this hell fell beyond heaven
left to atmospheric us humans inside deep the soul lives
I know this life is to come to a close at some point
i feel the truth of humanity, the gift of this human suit made of leather repairing skin
which is done right one time will show that its all about appreaciation
appreciating the bad days along with the good
Your home as gritty as ghetto’s with shot soaring through the quiet nights
My hood no different, just without the sadness of others the binding of brothers by gangs
no rising brotherhood connecting me to sentimentality of feeling no my hood was small, just two you and I
as i began down the path of streets beat to avoid your face
my never dying disgrace to you lips
your taste for me had me stripped fom the seasoned food of my truth
Soon I would find out that your hood, your dynasty of control
was trully hood… it was a exit exam for elementary thought and enabled mind
so many of peers owned.. yes it was a hood of divinity and it expelled the weak and ignorant and built intelligent sympathetic warriors see Hood.. Was Heaven’s opportunity for me offerinig definitive characterstics.
A suburbian home of midlife love comfortable and daily the same
does not build believers of fight
Believers in the right of the common good
I did grow hurt and I did deter from the roads that others will call right
yet warriors training gladiators don’t come from homes of lies so perfect they feel like truth
with perfect youth tales all surface no lessons of shame, or eyes of change
A later in life successors comes fom the experience of life unpopular by popular belief
if smiles were not made to be appreaciated from previously understated or underrated
melodic sighs of relief
that I would be just a spoiled doll girl like so many peers still lost in the formindable years when me was all that could be heard fom their wanting lips
Those girls who played with the rounded grounds of attraction, firm booties, high titties and the ability to just get without work
So I must say thank you for your damaging ways, selfish days never producing conversations of my little lady warnings
the exception is “don’t be like me regretting babies wishing i was some other place other than here
The direct consequence is my eloquence,
my heartbeat strong, my fear only a motivation
my denying of mediocrity , my journey on a road to beliefs untaught by your presence inbred by your absentee parenting
Now I look over at my paiin and it seems so lame in compariion to what it is your feeling or hiding.This time I must admit
not so different fom you so confused and immersed in me
With the revision of faith and the appearence of belief, the admission of guilt
the action of accountability
My path now changed taking roads chosen by instinct, lesson learned consequence simple
when roads of right. treated quoted to our young learning, one of the few truth from that
basic instructions before leaving earth booklet,
some learned before idea is first person, the bible
use it, to conform, read it for summation noy literal be valued for lesson as seen in, experienced shared i
this statement earned number lesson, how you retrieve the most abundant of blessings
treat those who your connection in all things as you have to you
powerful, but simple in its explanation no need for interruption
no belief, no movement, no revolution will differ in it’s exploration or delivery
it simply knows nothing of experience or sensation
for those not with words so pretty, it’s easy no detail
not doing what I don’t want relayed to me
Its alot heavy yet,
Yet, so easy to carry,
Unlike that wrong which was lite, difficult to carry
infectious consequences side effect crippling
Manipulating the mind,
Deliberate retreats to sell illusions, graphic delusions,
I resist this I won’t apply, your inability to to look outside I
Yet, me the I inside is the only 3Ye used to see, speak, or feel,
I do not have to apply those learned behaviors
Instead, ideal earned by nurturing the difference I see
So I click back, Undo, the application permissions,
hating me for hating the you in me
i forgive my reflection for it’s likeness to you
yet if I forget to trust that raw inner feeling
test ahead for faith, notification
I find the beauty of letting go and letting GOd.
He made me of you so I could take care of you
so I might as well take the express train to acceptance
your never going to change
That story is gone so old , its time to start a new book, a new story
a new page