Women of Word
I get hurt a little too loudly and scream a little too quietly
Don’t you miss the days things weren’t just ok, they were good?
For all the Wooden Boxes in the Sea
So let me get this straight, you’re asking me to bottle my heart, my emotions, currently in an open mess; tie them up neatly, into a tight knit ball. Place my heart, now in a tight knit ball, into a wooden box and chuck said box into the sea.
But, one day that box is gonna hit a rock and that tight knit ball is going to unravel out my heart, which is going to come exploding out, bubbling forth, causing waves and ripples you never knew could exist.
Will you be ready for that day?
Excerpts and Rough Drafts
He stood, with the mike in his hand, eyes slowly shifting up, landing upon her, gazing at her – she dressed in creamy beige, calm glory. Him, eyes completely content.
Let me tell you about the first time I met my wife. It’s not the time she’s thinking of. It was seven years earlier. She doesn’t know about this time; lord help me. It was 2015. I was at Dynamite with my friends, looking for a shirt for my brother’s girlfriend. The boys, of course, all complaining – why can’t you buy her socks? Nike shoes? Yo, did you see the new Airs?
She was with her girls, two girls. I knew they were her girls, they’re here in the crowd today. Shout out to our loves, N and N. Drake played, in the background, “Know Yourself” (sorry if that insults anyone). The song started – she started while her friends were looking through racks of clothes. She was leading – as usual, oblivious about how contagious she continues to be. Her head started bobbing, her hands started moving, she started giggling. And, I began witnessing the Carlton move, on repeat. Her moves were infectious. Her friends, laughed outright, and like a wave, started imitating her. Next thing I knew, the retail workers started smiling; they started bobbing; their hands started moving – swaying from side to side. She, all the while giggling, oblivious to everyone around her, to the night club she’d started. She was just so clearly happy to see people moving. She was just so clearly happy to see people smiling. She was just so clearly happy to see people — free. In one minute, she’d turned Dynamite, the store for the business professional, into the hottest, goofiest, most bizarre store on the block. And, I, paused, stunned, young, and I prayed. Let me know a soul like hers…. #to be continued #hopeslive.
Writes – 82 and Counting
You know when you smell summer in the air – briefly. Then it fades back to spring. Just did that, and it was beautiful, and that I can call it beautiful is even more beautiful.
When you’ve been absorbed by pain for a long time, you forget to look at your own life. I mean really look at your life, your wants, your goals that you’ve left in “Notes” – 88 and counting. But, now, with that pain finally subsiding, hopefully continuing to subside, your eyes see things they’ve neglected. That’s a whole other field of anxieté. So, instead let’s just be grateful for the moment of peace. Let’s just leave the rest to 8:28 “It’ll all work out… sooner than later;” even if it’s later, it’ll still work out.
Her Spirit’s a Free Bird
Don’t know why, but it’s Feb 10, and it finally, finally feels like she can go back. Like she can be in a dream again. Like she can see the imprints of stars in the sky again; like she wants to breathe in the rain again. Airy rain. Dirt rain. Delicate, dense rain. Like, like, like, like… again home belongs in her heart.
Her home is plaited with others’ needs, with the wants of simplicity; simpler times. And, her gift is her heart to you. Because, innocence is all she clings to and, honestly, it’s all she understands. Complexity complicates her mind.
She sees the dirt. She feels, oh, she feels the dirt in her hands again. She’s drowning light in the moment again. Every sensory delight arriving – finally arriving.
P.S. Please don’t step on her gift again; please don’t cage her again.
Because, P.S. Her spirit’s a free bird again.