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.
Dear Wugga,
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
The Weapon, The Cure, The Reason 