“Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” – Vivian Greene
And dance I did.
As my 46th bornday approaches on April 4th, I’ve been reflecting on my life’s journey. I’ve come a long way from being that eight year old kid who held back tears, swallowed her pain from abuse, and declared that I would grow up to be better than the examples that I was being shown at home.
I’ll always have a vivid memory of the Saturday that my father almost ended his life and mine. Even after he hurt me to my core on this day, I put hurt and fear aside. I wanted to live. I had the courage and the strength to survive.
In all of the heartache that I’ve been through, I’ve always pushed forward. And here I am today. I’m proud that I made the decision at age eight to live. I didn’t know what my life would be like as an adult, but I had dreams of a better life full of love. I can look in the mirror and smile, because some dreams do come true. I made it. Hearts can be emotionally battered and can bend. But, hearts can also feel love again. Hearts can also mend.
I’m gratefuI learned to dance so well in the rain.
The time has come again to thank everyone who has visited my site this year. I appreciate the visits, the likes, and the comments. This year has been full of happiness and personal growth, but has also been full of heartache. As I’m writing this, I have a mother and a son in mind that were killed by police in Chicago in the early morning hours on December 26, 2015. Their names are Bettie Jones and Quintonio LeGrier. Both had just celebrated Christmas with their loved ones. A time of joy ended with time for violence. The coming of a new year should be another year of opportunities and growth. But just what kind of opportunities will present themselves? And opportunities for whom? As time moves forward, so must we. To all, do what you can to continue to be the best that you can be in the new year and the years to come. I will do the same.
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.
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Aren't songs of grief lullabies to the lost?
La poesía es la casa del ser.
as opposed to a “not thinking chitalia”
A storyteller with a poetic heart
The Poetry of Emotion
Seeking Solace in the Horizon & Beyond
FOR A NEW TOMORROW
My Quiet Fire In NYC 