The History of Storms

there are thing that cannot be known

by those who do not a know

air

so gentle 

seizing of all that was once innocent 

once sweet turned sour in the unknowing 

that can never be known
unless we were there
we were not

there is a softness 

a sickness there 

one turned malignant

diseased

one longing for cure 

but not knowing how to ask

there is always a way to ask
unless
there isn't

there is a table there

one flipped time and time again 

in a breeze 

disguised as soothing 

as knowing 

as invisible as the wind

that 

ruffled your hair
that time

the thing about air

about wind 

about breezes

is that every one needs it

even as it cannot be seen by eyes 

focused forward 

in a war no one enlisted for 

drafted 

none the less 

no one can win 

because that is not the goal 

burn it all down 

in the ruin of it all 

the temperature risen so high 

it calls for emergency rooms 

for evacuation

for oceans 

moving in the wrong direction 
shots fired
there are always shots fired

condensation has no choice 

it lands on our faces 

a failed attempt to wash 

something so dirty 

clean 
impossible

there is no right answer 

there is no next time or tomorrow 

there is only rain and questions 

only windows 

forced open 

and and paperwork 

only debris and broken boys 

only answers not asked for 

only band aids where surgery was required

only questions we will never know the answers to

truth no longer resides in your tongue

your heart turned detritus 

turned vengeful 

cloaked in revisionist history

there are things that cannot be known 

answers that were never questioned 

a fish that took on to much air 

found it was unable to float 

decided fuck it 

if I drown in my home

we all drown in my home

despite the wet
it will all burn

the flames will burn it all

there is always

air to feed the flames

always

A Conversation That Should Not Exisit

My son initiated no radio for the drive home just talk. We talk. About girls and confusing signals, I can relate, tell him this and the conversation deepens. We talk about plagiarizing and black lives mattering and about how I've taught compliance but that doesn't work anymore so what now.
My chest aches.

He pretends places his hands at ten and two on an imaginary steering wheel says, "OK. I'm being pulled over."

Me- Can you be not pulled over?

Z- Well yes Mom, but I'm being profiled

I don't burst into tears. I want to but I'm driving and he is really trying to figure this out. Only a parent who has had to suffer this type of conversation knows the twist and clinch of spine and heart.

Me- I guess you keep your hands on the wheel.

Z- Where's my id? I figure I'll take it out of my wallet and leave it on the seat or at least in plain sight, that way they can reach it themselves.

I live in a world where my sweet, funny boy is planning survival for a traffic stop.
This shyt is not normal.

Z- So, if they ask to search my car do I just let them because I have nothing to hide, or ask why I've been stopped and tell them I'll sign the ticket.

This comment phucks me up extra because he is thinking rationally and so much rational is not happening now. Would they even get to the part where he gets to speak?

I remember that me at 15, pretended being a teacher, a fashion designer, a reporter and so many other things. I never practiced staying alive while wearing dark skin in America.

I've been sitting on the porch for hours unpacking this conversation and crying. Last night, I dreamed of losing teeth and fish and walls to tall to climb. I know what those mean and, well, ominous. My son is afraid and oddly calm about it. I am not OK with this. 

Thanks a bunch American Dream Deferred! It's not like black mothers don't have quite enough juggling of lessons to teach that should not be apart of the fucking curriculum. 

Sigh.

I'm going to get it together.
I need hugs.
I need poems.

Must Do Better!!

The last year and a half were rough. I hit a really low point and the people I thought I could depend on taught me some hard lessons on top of the low. I have my steady handful and plan to keep them, they also, ironically, knew me before all this. It's the afters. I had to come to terms with a lot of things that shook me and made me want to re-evaluate how I relate to people. My loyalties were tested and found to be one-sided as I realized that there were people in my life that I considered priceless while they considered me optional or after thought. It messed me up more than I thought. Like abandonment issues weren't enough here's a nice big ass dose of trust issues, oh and here are some more ghosts to go with the others. So I took to the road as much as I could. Never in town long enough to be lied to, taken for granted or worse, a joke.

So I don't trust my judgement these days or maybe it's my heart I don't trust. As a result I am watching my life go by from the relative safety of the edge not even daring to jump in to the pool. I met someone a several months ago and after a few dates I caught myself running through the various scenarios, the hierarchy of friendship,  the lying about unnecessary shyt, the making up unnecessary excuses, the promises made just to be broken and what I might do to the next person who hurts my kid. That date ended badly. Not rudely, I'm rarely rude, just me disconnecting from the grid and making sure "Welcome" is not tattooed on my forehead.

I have recently been tempted and am standing in the shallow end of the pool. Just ankle action. I want to believe she won't hurt me, but I can't trust it completely. Not yet. She will have to come to me, that makes me nervous because, well, what if she doesn't?

I remember saying, years ago in response to someone who asked when I would settle down again, maybe in my 50's! Well, 50 is approaching and maybe uttering the words so long ago, manifested them at the time I defined when I put into the world. Or not. Until then I am on the move, busy getting my ankles wet from time to time.

I started this blog as a recovery journal when I had my partial hysterectomy in 2005 (I was having many moments back then). Since then it has been a repository for rants, heart to hearts, poems and can you believe this shyt stories. I stay busy to keep the loneliness at bay and I have very few folk to use as soundboards that haven't rendered me out of sight out of mind. So, I think I will use this space more in the future to recover and get through some of the lonely along with the occasional rant, heart to heart, poems and can you believe this shyt stories.
You know, like usual.

I am going to start a new blog for National Poetry Month. I'll try to remember how to link it to this one, or watch a You Tube video to figure it out.

This weekend all my kids will be home so I'm gonna love on them extra to stock pile the hugs, Zion's gonna hate that, but deal he will. My actor has auditions and this mommy knows, my baby is going to kick much artistic ass. She is just like her mother in that department.

SS

Things Hoped For

There have been a few times in my life where I had that person I could without a doubt call my best friend. That person I knew I could count on no matter what. Knowing we would drop everything to make sure that the other never had to face difficulty, loss, heartbreak or any other thing we had to face alone if we didn't want to face them alone.

The last best friend I had is still on the planet but we barely speak these days. Correction, we haven't really had a conversation in years. And every once in a while (every day), I have the phantom pains of missing something that was once there. There was a trust broken and I guess believing she just left me hanging out there alone because of another's insecurity stings more now because I have all of this time to think these days. It wasn't that I felt I was more important or even as important but at the very least worth some consideration. Best friends for ten years and then one day, just like that, it's gone.

Twenty years later, I have friends. I have even found people I know, or believe could be a best friend. I have close friends, dear friends, like minded friends,and friends I'd drop everything to be there for. But no one that I feel like would be there for me come hell or high water, just because they wanted to, not because they felt obligated to. I know the reason I don't have that is mostly me. There is an ache in me that hurts everyday and the idea of another potential ache from losing someone I loved and still love results in panic attacks. The trust broken has me fearful of trusting not to be broken again.

We were not lovers we were just friends. The loss of a lover hurts a lot too, don't get me wrong, but nothing hurts like losing a friend. So I treat my friends carefully. I don't want to be too needy even though I need. I don't ask for their time and pretend not to be hurt when left out of things.

I do realize that pretending that my best friend leaving me behind, while I saw her every day, didn't hurt for ten years was the biggest lie I ever told myself. And that not opening myself up to be hurt by the people I love perpetuates that lie. So now I have all of this truth, and no one to really tell. Working out how to fix this and hoping it won't take twenty years.

On Marriage

When you spoke of marriage
I didn’t flinch
I wore no frown
I just listened
part of me felt this is just a test
but I listened while you painted fairytale images
of faraway places
a porch with a swing
no neighbors for miles
just you and me

I didn’t interrupt
I never let you see the shadows of doubt
but I wondered how you could dream of marriage
when you live in closets

your love is a secret
best shared in dark rooms
if any one finds out your first line of defense
is to shake keys and lies that rattle like regret
slam shut the door lock
down emotions and pretend
I don’t exist

how can you want to marry someone
you can’t show off on your arms
in your arms
someone you are afraid to kiss
with the lights on
how can you see forever
and close yourself off
from the world at the same time

so when you spoke of marriage
lover
I didn’t flinch
I wore no frown
I just listened
part of me felt this is just a test
how can you speak of marriage
when we both know
there was no room in your closet for two