The book needs me...

What the book will be like…


Sunny days had a way of making the dirt on project buildings glisten.  Rumbling trains interrupted the screaming matches of hungry children sped along to places I couldn't even imagine.  I often wondered what brought my mother here, to this exact spot with this laundromat with dirty windows nestled into our four story building.  The air was thick here, nothing like home and our clothes never seemed as clean rotating in those big, dark cylinders as opposed to hanging on the line in the sun's backyard.  Buses swam through the city streets like sharks and watching them was enough to make me feel like I was drowning.


Mommy was fearless though or at least she seemed that way.  She pulled me through massive crowds to go shopping and then crept back into our one bedroom apartment that was like our secret hideaway.  Our tiny space always smelled like St. Thomas.  Fresh fruits lined our small windowsill and keeping the oven door open made the cold space warm as if we were sitting on the equator again.  I was trying to believe that this was a better life for us although I had no idea that the life we were living before wasn't the best.  Though my countryside bones grew tired of city life, I clutched onto my picture of Junie and I, while I laid on my side of the bed along the cool wall.  He was my best friend and no matter where in the world I had landed, as long as I wrapped my fingers tightly around the fading polaroid, I would be home.  I would squeeze my eyes tight enough until the darkness was so blinding that I thought it was my island's sun familiar enough to fall asleep soundly under.

Erykah

I've been gone for a while so I felt like I owed you something…


Now….
What am I supposed to do when I want you in my world?
Oh Erykah
Like you speak his name into the ridges of my fingers
Into the pores in my thighs 
From the soles of a ballet dancer's feet
I'm weary and I want to fall into his arms tonight
I want to make love in nouns and verbs
In moans and sighs
In exhales sweeter than molasses in Georgia's heat
How can I want you for myself when I'm already someone's girl?
I guess I'll see you next lifetime
When the moon collides with the sun in the dark sky 
When the stars swim in shallow waters
With the planets dancing at our wedding
Lord, I want to love him into existence
I want to love him into evolution
Every single time
Every single day
Every single night 
Until the fish kiss the smile of birds flying into the oasis of my waiting womb, my endearing palms, my loving lips
I guess I will, I guess I will or I guess, I will, I guess, I will
I guess he loves me in the rhythm of the rolling earth
I will myself to love him like the wind graces each and every continent without ever asking for a thank you
Without ever expecting a gift in return
Dry your eyes
Please don't cry
I could love him into ecstasy
I could love him into a numbing pain just so he can feel again
Now what am I supposed to do when I'm already someone else's girl?
Love him in the quiet parts, in between the whites of my scalp
Underneath the wrapping of my gold skin
On the inside of my bottom lip
I plan to love him like I was born for this sh.t

Bitter crescendo

A bitter crescendo of words
I go up and down with you
Moans sound like screams
Pain feels the same
And I look in the mirror and see a woman I don't even recognize
I'm loving you more these days, hugging you more these days
Believing in myself, these ways aren't me, well they aren't me if you knew me yesterday
But I'm grateful for a critical love 
A loud love
A demanding love that requires me to be more of a woman than the reflection of a man
I am glad that I found a love that I can't own 
Because it is so free, so unshackled, so "I'm kissing you because it's Tuesday and I don't even have to be here" 
I found the "put the kids to bed because I want to make some more" love
The empty love that fills its own belly up with plans for upcoming holidays and anniversaries for things we haven't even done yet
This was a bitter crescendo of words
Learning to love you in kind nouns and refrain from using harsh adjectives when you make me feel negative things
It was bitter watching you go but sweet knowing and believing that you would come back to me
This was bitter finding my fit into your arms, my legs around your waist, my smile wrapped around your lips
This was a bitter journey wiggling ourselves into eternity
Banging on the door of monogamy
Screaming "Let me in! I don't want to f.ck anybody but you!"
I mean, when they told me that all's fair in love and war, I had no idea what it meant
And now I look at you, looking at us and I know that being fair in love is knowing that sometimes love isn't fair
We will get angry, we will get selfish, we will be unkind, we will be lovers again in the morning, we will be partners in the grocery store, we will be the captains of our own sailing ship
We will have balance and the bitter crescendo of words will be sweet by the time we figure out how to put this love into a sound so light that words cannot even lay their head upon the melody

Ms. Genisha Wallace

So on December 17, C.O.OL. Kids had an amazing holiday party for 100+ children.  It was an exhausting day but the kids were happy and smiling and the adults were just happy to have made it through the day. But this post is more about the brunch afterwards.  


During the brunch, some speeches were made that honestly brought real tears to the table.  There were three very important things that were discussed.  


First, there is a sense of honor in being around Genisha Wallace as she is the founder of C.O.O.L. Kids, a new mother, a spouse, a woman of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority Inc., a member of her church, a grad student, a daughter and a friend.  To have friends that do the impossible by showing others how impossible can be done is INSPIRING.  We sometimes forget that we have grown up with each other, first meeting on campus through mutual friends when we were still wearing jeans and Jordans.  Now we have become separate entities chasing a dream yet still holding each other close to accomplish those same dream.  I say it all the time, there is no school like Temple University.  Our alum goes hard.  It is truly a blessing to share the abundance of our own personal successes with each other.  It is reassuring to know that if nobody else shows up, WE WILL from all over the east coast.  We support one another.  This is Genisha's dream but it is our legacy and we will stand behind her like others have stood behind, as well as before us to make sure that she is recognized and appreciated for her work.


The second thing that must not ever be dismissed, forgotten or overshadowed no matter where we end up is the children that will complete our legacy.  It is a political truth that black children are not valued in this world.  They are rarely nurtured, educated, fed, clothed, loved and appreciated in a land their ancestors built on their backs.  The system is designed for them to fail.  I didn't learn this until I went to college, where I read books, essays, studies about policies and laws that created unfair advantages for others and almost impossible roadblocks for black children.  Though I lived in America, I wasn't an active participant [being West Indian and all, flying back and forth, I didn't know any Black American children and therefore I did not know their struggle] but their struggle is real.  It is up to us, Black men and women who have found a way around those policies to look back and bring those children with us.  We must bring our children through a modern day Underground Railroad.  We have to bring them to their own freedom.  Genisha is very passionate about disassembling the trajectory designed for our children to fail, she is concerned if the children we played with ate today, if they had a place to sleep that was warm, if that was the only toy they received for Christmas.  She is humble enough to admit that she doesn't know the way to victory, but she will make one if that's what it takes.


The last thing discussed represents a very important phase that most of us are going through at this age.  Finding a partner that loves, supports and believes in you and your dreams is rarely ever discussed.  Most of the time, our social media debates discuss cuffing, lonely tweets, basic men & women, Concords and bitter endings to once happy relationships.  But the reality is that a loving partner probably won't have their life set up entirely by the time they meet you and then marry you to complete your happy ending.  We're all struggling!  The beauty in relationships that are happening at this age is the conscious decision to GROW TOGETHER, to put your pieces and their pieces together and MAKE A LIFE instead of just waiting to complement an already pretty picture.  To find a partner that takes on an active role in your dreams, that speaks to you with compassion and faith, to hold you when you're busing holding everyone else up -- that is the meaning of partnership.  To watch two people build a life, a beautiful little girl and a legacy together is wonderful.  I urge all of you to find a person that dedicates him/herself to making you a better one.  Find someone that challenges you, that pushes you to the edge but never pushes you over.  Find someone that believes that you can do anything by always doing something to help you get there.  Find someone that not only believes in love, but lives their life loving you.


With admiration, grace and promise, I present to you, the people who have changed my life, inspired change, and acknowledged their purpose in this world.


Graduates of Temple University.  I love you. 

Holiday reminders

My good friend, Cedric reminded me that my relationship is sacred so I can't tell you everything.  But I will tell you that the love that I have experienced in this past year has been monumental, in these last few days - breathtaking.  I usually don't celebrate Christmas but this year with the constant babbling of @ms_she I participated and I am a better person for it.


I thoroughly believe that there is a reason Christmas is celebrated at the end of year.  By the time December 25th comes around, you have lived through three hundred and sixty days of love, hate, deceit, infidelity, betrayal and a few bad hair days. We [my friends and I] have come a long way.  We found out some ugly truths, revealed some, made some new friends, found love or something like it, fought love, came out with some bruises and decided we would go a few more rounds, we did a LOT.  But in the end, we came out of this year so much smarter with the ability to laugh at exactly how dumb we were.  


I must say, this has been the year of REVELATIONS and my gifts are a testament of such.  Everything I received were reminders of my dream - to redirect my focus and understand exactly who to thank in the credits.


This time is not so much about the holiday but really about who stood by you for every day leading up to it.  To my old friends - these friendships are aging beautifully.  To my new friends - this is FO' LIFE.  To my supporters -  I have a few surprises for you in the upcoming year, thanks for sticking with me, you've made the upcoming third year possible.  Love you.

Does Love Conquer All?

It was just one of those things – loving him provocatively and innocently at the same time.  It was a balance I had perfected.

If your first love and your first boyfriend/girlfriend is the same person then this isn’t for you.  In fact, let me just say that you are truly blessed so go forth and be merry.  But for many of us, the first love is more like a second chance.  When I say ‘first,’  I’m not talking numerically. I’m talking the kind of love that marriages are made from.  I’m talking about the love that is so different, that every love before that seems to pale in comparison; the kind of love that is so unique, that you feel almost obligated to call it your first because it convinces you that it should be your last. 

Numerically, my first love was magical and no I’m not saying that to imply that it was some kind of illusion.  Him and I did love one another and we were very compatible but it fell apart.  Maybe we weren’t mature enough, maybe someone cheated, maybe someone lied but either way, our love wasn’t enough.  We needed much more to sustain, to grow and to ultimately become one.  We failed one another as partners but learned from one another.  He taught me to how to be vulnerable, how to trust again and how to believe in my own capabilities.  He also taught me that love does not conquer all.

But having been years removed from that love, I find myself wondering when my ‘first’ [not the numerical first] love will happen or if it has happened already.  When will I get a second chance at a first love?  Am I in the midst of my second chance as we speak?  Though I like to give any credit deserved to the numerical first love, I am anticipating my second chance.  I am curious to know what it feels like to engulfed by a love so grand.  I want to know the feeling of a love that inspires to be a better person and partner.  I’m wondering if the person I’m kissing now is the person I’ll be kissing last.

Why doesn’t anyone tell you that more often times than not, that the numerical first love is the equivalent to training wheels.  You get your scrapes and bruises until you learn how to pedal and then after throwing caution to the wind, you ride that bike with all the faith in your own two feet.  Maybe someone told you, but no one told me.  My mother’s first love turned out to be the love for her entire life and though she might have wanted the same thing for me, she certainly didn’t or couldn’t rather, prepare for the contrary.  My numerical first love was just that, a number on the timeline known as my womanhood and though I’m glad he’s where I started, there’s a reason [at least for right now] that he’s not where I am. 

The thing I like most about the second chance is that you get to apply some of the things you picked up on your way to it.   You learned something on your own.  You have completed your own trial and error and if the person you want comes your way [Glory be to God], you have finally reached a point where you’ve worked hard enough to enjoy them.

I truly believe that the UNPRECEDENTED love is the first love, even if it is boyfriend/girlfriend #3.  Currently, I’m in a space where I feel like I’m doing everything for the first time.  Things that I never cherished are now sacred and sentimental.  Things that I have never said in the past are now my most commonly used phrases and for the first time, I feel like practice is over.  Could my second chance be approaching?    Will I be ready to use what I’ve learned to nourish the love that I’ve dreamed of?  Having learned that love doesn’t conquer all, will I finally conquer love?  Most importantly, will you?

Ferociously

(started this ten days ago from the last post)


It's been ten days
And I loved him ferociously
Like I had a pulse made out of beating drums and eyes with the brightness of the North star in them 
I smiled from the inside
Like stars colliding in my veins and rainbows peeking from the corners of my mouth, I believed that better days were to come
He taught me that better days come
And I loved him 
Ferociously
Loved him from the pits of my soul 
To the soles of my feet
To the back of my knee caps
To the symmetry of my hips
I loved him 
From the delicate puzzle of my ribcage
To the blocks of my spine
I loved him ferociously
From his breath to the curve of my lips 
I loved him intimately and loved him presently
Knowing who I had been was something like shaped Christmas dough
His hands would build my curve and I would rise under his heat
Listen to me and hear this
I loved him 
I loved him ferociously
And that hunger for him ultimately made me ultimately filled the void of never having him sooner
I loved him 
Ferociously.

Simply

When you choose to love me, that's when I respect you most.

Where honesty hides

don't get used to this


I believe in gratitude
That the separation of bad decisions, mistakes and progress are just one apology away
That hope lies in quiet spaces and growth, in loud minds
I believe that making love ends arguments
And that my silence may trigger your anger but it's not a trigger under pressed flesh with the intent to kill
I remember when you lied to me
About who you are and what you won't do
You weren't about love and you weren't about forgiveness
But here you come scratching at my door with returned phone calls, anger in your voice and soft hands on my breasts
You said you didn't believe in forgiveness but you answer the phone, you show up and you kiss me like it's the first time when it's supposed to be the last time
You want me to shut the f.ck up then give. me. something. to. think. about.
You want me to feel secure then put a lock on this
You want me without admitting you have me
Let's understand that your anger is not your love even though your love can make you angry
And it only makes you angry because the one thing you want eternally cannot live forever
Humans were not built for that
We have graves waiting for us to welcome us home
And we're made of flesh that will eventually melt away
Though our spirits flash traits of being eternal, that's fool's gold
Pardon my presumption that you are a better man

My house

I have truly missed the process of writing so let's get right into it.


Imagine me as a house.  On the outside, I had fresh paint, a nice lawn and lilies lined up my walkway. Imagine me on a quiet street, a house not for sale.


But inside, I only had a couch and a television - something like a bachelor pad.  My floors were scratched up, my walls wore chipped paint but it was my house, my little empty house. Where did all my stuff go, you ask?  I feel like my visitors kept borrowing things and not bringing them back and before I knew it, all I had left was this couch and television.  Because the visitors themselves kept coming back, I didn't realize that my stuff wasn't.  I guess I was distracted.


But then he comes along, he being some handsome, mysterious yet familiar guy.  He's undeniably a work of art but I can only see him from my window.  I have the padlock, the alarm and a homegirl standing outside watching the camera to make sure that no more intruders borrowers come along.  I've been talking to him from my porch for quite some time, but I'm not ready to let him up my walkway.  I don't trust it and I'm scared.  My morals are falling to the wayside like panties at a Trey Songz concert.  I don't want this man anywhere near me unless he's planning to be there forever.  That's a big demand but if he's half as amazing on the inside as he is on the outside, the loss might kill me.  Foreclose this house because it will be more than just a hardship for me, a b.tch will be bankrupt. 


But my homegirl is weak and she's a sucker for dimples and dark skin.  So she lets him up the walkway and convinces me that I have nothing to fear, that whatever I've been doing hasn't been working so maybe I should try something new and he's pretty new.  I open my door three inches just so I could take a better look at him up close and I can smell his cologne through the crack.  I don't even want to let him in so he stands at the door for a few days, weeks and months.  I can't just let him see my television and my couch and I don't have the money or the time to buy back the things I've lost.  What am I going to do?  


I finally let him in for what I think will be a few nights and it ends up being a lifetime.  He brings things, things I never even had before, things I didn't ask him for.  He furnishes my house and together we build a home.  But it isn't easy.  We fight about how to assemble things and we disagree about where to put them but there is an unwavering gratitude and respect for a man who doesn't walk around with empty hands.


Yes, my house is empty but my home, our home is complete.

Speak your piece/peace, I'm listening

this post...this story... i dont have the words...you are a beautiful person, and my closest friend and we dont even really know each other, but every time you write i get closer to you and i learn a little more about myself. From the bottom of my heart, I believe you are the strongest person I know. --- Your biggest fan on No looking back.

You (and people like you) give writing a purpose and I thank you for that.  Growing up I  never anticipated that sharing my life would bring a sense of satisfaction or a sense of purpose for others.  I really appreciate this and I'll probably read through this (and the other comments) on rough days and especially on days when I don't feel like writing anymore.  Thank you for walking with me on this journey.  I know that you don't have to and that being here is a conscious decision so it doesn't go unnoticed.  Thank you for being my friend when I know I give you plenty of reasons not to on this blog.  Jesus is still working on me and as far as being the strongest person you know…well, I am honored.  Thank you.

What having sisters feels like...

Zoe Saldana and her two sisters.

One day,  I will tell you about my sisters. 

All six of them.

Speak your piece, I'm listening...

T....I'm telling you that God speaks thru you most times that you are not even aware of. This was a beautiful post that needs to be read. May God continue to use you every way that He can written by Kosi on To My Friends with Estrogen

Thank you! There are not enough words or exclamation points to express my gratitude for a comment of that depth.  The one thing no one can teach you in writing is how to say thank you to such provoking and kind comments.  I haven't gotten used to hearing such beautiful things to describe something that seems so natural to me.  I really appreciate from the bottom of my heart.  Comments like yours definitely make me search deep within myself and thank God for being there.  Thank you =)