Author Archives: Samara Marie

Where’s The Love On A Lovely Day?

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Friday, July 10, 2015

Brooklyn

“True generosity is an offering; given freely and out of pure love. No strings attached. No expectations. Time and love are the most valuable possessions you can share.” – Suze Orman

Being a lover of all things Harlem, I didn’t think I’d ever utter the words, “I love Prospect Park.” Each time I go there, I get lost, and I enjoy every minute of it. Prospect Park is so beautiful, so peaceful, and you can feel a genuine love as soon as you enter the park.

Today was a beautiful day. I took my usual stroll around the lake, taking in all things beautiful, and enjoying the magnetic energy from everyone I encountered. I would up at my now usual resting place that gives me an up close and personal view of the water. With all of the beautiful scenery, peace, and genuine love, it was at this resting place where I had questions about love.

Whenever I sit on a bench by the lake, I always see families enjoying this same view, and enjoying it together. The key word is together. I see moms, dads, and their children spending quality time together. I see moms and their children spending quality time together. I see dads and their children spending quality time together. I even see entire families including the grandparents, spending quality time together. And then I saw a family that seemed very much broken. Where’s the love on a lovely day?

Walking towards where I was sitting was a married couple and their 2 year old son. There were swans in the lake, and their son wanted to get a closer look. Only the mother and son went to the edge of the lake to see the swans. What did the father do? He sat on the bench next to me, and complained about having to be in the park all day. Even upon the mother’s multiple requests to join her and their son, the father flat out refused, with such a nasty attitude. To make matters worse, at some point upon the 2 of them having a “long distance conversation,” the father shouted, “You’d better pray you don’t get pregnant again.” The mother looked frustrated. The mother and their son were still by the lake, and the father was still on the bench next to me, but now he’s striking up a conversation with me. He apologized for his son being noisy and unruly. I told him that no apology was needed, and that I work with kids. They get noisy when  they’re excited. No problem. I felt awkward and a little disgusted at the same time, and the mother was looking at the both of us. Why is this man distancing himeslf from his partner and child? And why would he prefer to have an up close conversation with me?

The mother came over to the bench and pretty much forced their son on the father, and she sat down. Instead of spending quality time with their son at the edge of the lake, he decides to take out his phone and make a call to someone. I’m watching this father hold his son’s hand while standing a step away from where he was originally sitting. A few minutes into the phone conversation, and the father yells, ” I have to call you back. This kid is acting bananas.” This kid? This kid was acting like a 2 year old who wants to play, explore, and be payed attention to by his father.

The mother gtets up from the bench and intervenes by mentioning that she and their son wanted to find out where the drumming was coming from. The father shot her down again and said, “I’m not going way over there just so he can hear some drums.” I was glad when they finally left.

I thought about the difference bewteen this family and the families that I always see around the lake. The families that I always see around the lake are happy. They spend quality time together. They act like they truly love each other. I can feel their love for one another. This family that I encountered today wasn’t full of love. The father gave off a vibe of dissatisfaction with his partner and child, and the mother seemed frustrated and helpless. I was left feeling sorry for the mother and the child.

I believe time and love are the best gifts that one can give and receive. As I grew up without really receiving both of these things on a consistent basis, I truly believe this. I didn’t see the father giving time nor love to his partner nor his child. I’m not saying that he never does. I don’t know if he does or not. I just didn’t see it on this particular day. All I could think about was this: There’s a man somewhere that would love to be by their side. Here’s my question. Is finding a compatible partner so hard, that we have to settle for being in an unloving, unhealthy relationship? Here’s another question. Is the fear of being alone or lonely the one to blame for people settling? Love is complex, and I really don’t know the answers. I’ll tell you what I do know. I know that I deserve to be loved, and I don’t want to settle for anything less than that.

I Have No Love Song To Sing

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I have no love song to sing.
No sweet soliloquy to recite
Underneath the stars.
I’m sick with a disease that has no cure.
My heart barely beats,
As the confusion of what justice is
Proves to be a consistent strain.
I feel as if a single bullet aimed for my heart,
And pierced it multiple times.
A single body is housing multiple deaths and heartache.
As I drew my last breath,
I whispered a little prayer,
And ascended upon a higher path.
I have no love song to sing tonight.
Only a puddle full of tears and blood.

Promises

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Today is Saturday, April 4, 2015, and it is my 43rd birthday. I have to stop and be grateful for my life, and reflect on how far I’ve come. I never write anything of this nature on my site, but I wanted to write something on this day. I know where the inspiration comes from to write this. But, I don’t know where the inspiration came from to write this today. I just took out a sheet of paper and a pen and started writing (Yes, I still write everything on paper first before I type it out. LOL!).

I remember growing up in a hell I didn’t know how I would ever escape. A lot of tears were shed for a lot of years. I always received everything I ever wanted, except unconditional love. Not every single moment was a house of horrors, but it was dysfunctional to the point where I didn’t understand why I had to be born into a tunnel of chaos.

I remember the Saturday that my father drunkenly humiliated me in front of family members. He said, “Just look at her. She’s so stupid.” All I could do was stand there and be hurt and embarrassed. I wanted to cry, but I held in my tears, and at the age of 8, I silently made a promise to myself. I promised that I would never become a victim of drugs, alcohol, or a miserable relationship. I promised that I would go to college and make something of myself. I promised to grow up and be happy. I promised to never make any child suffer. I promised to be greater than the poor examples that I was being shown at home. I promised to one day fly away and be free.

I remember on this same Saturday where I, as a stupid little 8 year old, as my father called me, had to help my father steer the car and keep it in the right lane. My father was driving on the wrong side of the street and cars  were approaching us. I had to keep him awake, help him steer the car, and tell him when to stop. As hurt as I was, I wanted to live, even if he didn’t. This was the beginning of my will to survive and to keep my promises.

We made it home safely, and I didn’t mention anything to my mother, as I was somewhat a motherless child. She was there, but only in the physical sense. For my entire life, my mother has done and said every despicable thing she could do and say to try to break me down to feeling worthless. I remember her calling me a whore when I was a teenager. I wasn’t sexually active, and I wasn’t even allowed to date. As  a little kid, I didn’t understand her actions, words, and hatred towards me. But a a young adult, I understood her clearly. My mother, a light skinned Black woman, called me an “ugly Black bitch.” This woman never told me that she loved me, nor called me beautiful. She could only see the beauty of my “pretty, light brown eyes.” She could never see the beauty that is ME. As my own mother said those hateful words to me, I just stood with a look of disgust on my face. I now understood her hatred towards me, and now understood the love she showed to my light skinned sister. I now understood her as a problem in the Black community. The admiration of her that was never there, would never come to be. I never did anything to deserve such horrible treatment. I was just too dark for her taste. I was too dark and too intelligent. Thank goodness I had knowledge of self and self esteem, to not fall victim to self hatred and hatred of my own people, as she did. I had my promises, and hope to see me through the storm. I knew one day I’d fly away and be free.

I did fly away to my freedom, as I kept all of my promises I made as an 8 year old. Through all of the dysfunction that I was subjected to, it made me strong. It made me be able to stand on my own two feet, no matter where I am. It gave me the courage and confidence to survive. Through all of their dysfunction that they subjected me to, I have to thank my parents for the strong woman that I am today. Here I am today. Free. And I can look myself in the mirror each and every day and stand proud. I’m proud of who I am. I am truly grateful.

Sincere Thank You

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It’s nearing the end of 2014. Another year has come and gone. The time has come for me to say my “Thank You” to everyone. I truly appreciate you taking the time to visit my site, liking my posts, and leaving comments for me. I don’t consider myself a poet, but poetry has been a way of expressing my thoughts and coping with my emotions since I was a teenager.

2014 has been an emotional roller coaster for me and others around the world. I have certainly shed my share of tears out of both fear and sorrow. It may be my naive thinking, but as bleek as our “justice” system is here in the U.S., I still believe that one day we will have a such thing as a fair and just legal system, and we will all be free. I still have hope and stars in my eyes. If this is only a dream, then let me dream it to be able to carry on. Only time will tell if true justice will ever be seen.

While waiting for justice to show it’s face, in the meantime, my heart is weary and I’m tired. But still, I must move forward with my head held high.

In spite of the world’s cruelty and troubles, may 2015 be a productive and successful year for you all.

 

 

When Beautiful Black Turns To Blue

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My Feelings: When will you see me? See us? I can’t stop crying. No matter how righteous I live. No matter how educated I am. No matter how eloquent I speak. No matter how well dressed I am. I can go on and on about how well this, and how well that. Respectability means nothing, and I very well know it. Respectability will never save me from a bullet, and I know it. Nor will it ever shield me from the cruelty of white supremacy. No matter how much of a good human being I am, I’ll always be seen to some folk as an animal. A savage. A gang member. Uneducated. Sub human. A thing to be murdered, and tossed away like garbage, as if my life is worthless. When folk see the color of my skin, they don’t see me. They don’t see us. They see only what they’ve been taught to see and know. It’s America as I’ve grown to understand it. Sad. And I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting against a system that insists on fighting against me.

My heart weeps of sorrow,

In the darkest hour of the night.

Tears are shed inside,

Deep within my soul.

Yet, my tears can be seen and felt.

The weight of an unjust world

Has taken its toll.

It rests upon my shoulders,

And the load is much too heavy.

I’m tired,

As my weakened heart barely beats.

My heartache is too much to stand.

America has been killing me consistently.

A slow death it has been.

No knife to the heart.

No bullet to the dome.

Injustice will be my demise.

Won’t even have time to bid thee farewell.

Another black body blows in the dust.

It’s a sad song about us.

It’s about me.

It’s about you.

It’s what happens when black changes it’s hue.

It’s what happens when beautiful black turns to blue.

See Me

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What do you see when you see me?

An intelligent woman whose free?

A poet with a knack for self expression?

A woman with the right to just be?

What song do you hear from my sweet voice?

Do I sing a song of misery?

Do I sing a song so unfamiliar to you?

Do I sing only of what you want to see?

What do you feel when we’re face to face?

Is it fear that enters your mind?

Or yet, an image of a thug or disgust?

If it is, then why can’t you feel my kind?

Even with endless cruelty, my heart still beats.

I walk forward with my head held high.

Walk with a fist in the air that you see as racist.

But I just call it solidarity, self love, and self pride.

What is it that you see within this body?

And why can’t you just see me?

From Anger Comes The Sun

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At times,
I want to fly away
And live amongst the stars.

To let my light shine,
And illuminate the Earth.
Bask in my own happiness.

To shoot over the moon,
Past orbital bliss,
And burst into fallen tears of joy.

When my heart beats
To the rhythm of love,
I become at peace amongst the day’s light.
I become one with the sun.

This Mahogany Brown

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This deep color.
This mahogany brown.
Hue so lovely, so divine.
Beneath it, through the veins of glory,
Runs my history.
My story.
My place in this here world.
This mahogany brown.
Behold what was made.
With this shade, comes all of my kinks and curves
That Mother Africa proudly preserves.
This mahogany brown.
A shield of honor that I’ll always defend.
You emulate this deep, brown skin.
Yet, you never love the skin I’m in.

Vivid

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A vivid image I see
when I close my eyes.
A wild imagination
that allows desires to live freely.
I see us in a strong embrace,
as we let time suspend until forever.
The warmth of your body
electrifies my soul.
A simple touch
ignites feelings unknown to the mind.
Voice as smooth as silk,
it carries me beyond the clouds,
and makes me believe I’ve reached the gates of Heaven.
Eyes as beautiful as the sun,
they draw me closer to you.
And then I awake.
I still feel this surreal reality from deep within,
and the memories engrained will forever linger on.