This Thing Called Love

What is this thing called love?  Is it the best thing that ever happens like Gladys Knight and the Pips say, or is it like a cool breeze that brushes across your face?

Perhaps love is that thing that causes one not to be too proud to beg - or is loving you easy because you’re beautiful?

What is this thing called love?  Is it the color of amethyst or black diamonds and pearls?  Does it taste like sweet chocolate and cream?  It is a love jones?  Is it the feel of your hand on the small of my back?   Like the sound of your voice.  Is it like when I argue just to hear you speak?  Is it the sweetest thing I’ve known?  Perhaps it’s that thing that Stephanie sang about?  Sweet Sensation, or is it Fire and Desire?  Is it Ooo La la la? Is it simply giving you something you can feel?

What is this thing called love?  Is it like a black butterfly, soaring across the waters?  Is it the thing that causes life to have direction now and a clear point of view?  Is it that thing makes it easy because you love me, baby?

What is this thing called love?  Is a secret rendezvous?  It showed up during a time when nobody is supposed to be here.  I tried that love thang, for the last time I said.  So here it is.  What is this thing called love? How did it get here? Am I trapped by this thing called love?

March 31, 2012

(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)

Trinidad

The rhythmic sound of a nation, black faces, red faces, white faces.  A melting pot.  The center of the earth.  The gathering place for many.

The rhythmic sound of a nation, dialects, slang, secretly coded messages that make up the fabric of the people.  

The sound of the music.  The beat, the pounding of the drums.  The piercing sound of the horns almost becomes deafening.  The rhythmic sound of a nation.  The sound of the horns, the chatter, clang, bang, bang!!!  Such noise from the disquiet in the soul of the fabric of a nation.

The hustle, the bustle, smells of spices, urine, people sleeping in the streets.  The scream of a nation.  

The sudden quiet that overcomes the rhythmic sound of a nation.  Another day passed, another day experienced.

Tomorrow comes again. The rhythm continues.  The rhythm continues, the rhythm continues.  

(March 24, 2012)

(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)

Wonderful ME!

who am i that i should think

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to dance and twirl 

to dip my hip

to feel the sensuous beat

to see the sunlight skip across the dawn

who am i that i should think 

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to sing and crescendo 

and sound like crystal

who am i that i should think

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to lift my eyes

and spread my arms to embrace myself

who am i?

i am just me

wonderful me, flawed though i may be

i have the right to be just me

      Selah!

(March 2011 - Excerpt from ‘This is Me’)

The Power of Three

They belong together, love in its purest form.

Three bodies born in the same sweet nectar

fearfully and wonderfully made

 moving to soundless music, music in the key of joy.

Songs sung, a chorus of the days beginning and end 

Magic made in the sharing

They belong together, love in its purest form

 vivid in the color of mirth, laughter creating a thin place where 

Past touches present exploding into the future.

Whispers of thankfulness, petitions of forgiveness are sent

To hope that embraces faith while greeting serenity.

 Familiar souls wrapped in spirit stand guard

 chasing pain into the abyss bringing light to hope

 embracing faith while greeting serenity.

They belong together, love in its purest form

Small hands as warm as love, as safe as prayer

Creamy nutmeg, café au lait, milk-doused caramel

Gentle as untwisted soft silk carried from the 

Flowery Kingdom to where home fires burn

They belong together, love in its purest form

 Love dressed in its most brilliant hue

Three hearts beat happily 

The power of three

Survivor

I am a survivor, from the past, present, and future.
I am from the legacy of strong women, determined to move 
(from the outhouse to the big house).
I am from faith gained and nurtured dreams that soar like eagles.
I am from the name that means Rock, strong, unmovable, and unshakable.
I am a survivor

Life’s pains have caused me to ask a few questions, like:
“Who am I?  Why am I here?”
Does my color define me?
Does my size cause me to be ignored?
Does my womanhood, strength, and determination offend thee?
I am the one who has walked quiet.
I am the one who has been forced to be invisible.
Forced to hold my peace.
Forced to suppress who I am and want to be so others could rise.
I am a survivor

The time has come for me to make a difference!
To rise up!
Be counted!
Be respected!
To silence the noise of the past and move ahead!
I am a survivor

In this season all misunderstandings will work themselves out.
In this season I will birth out the stored creativity that has been locked within me.
In this season I will forgive myself of mistakes, mishaps, and failures that will one day turn to successes.
Life is not a dress rehearsal; I must ask my self, “How will history remember me?”
I will leave a legacy of faith, strength and determination.
I am a survivor

Shattered dreams (like a glass broken into tiny pieces).
Divorce, “felt like a hot knife cutting through butter” but the river of living

water has come to put me back together again.
Single, how will I raise my children so they will be a beautiful portrait and walk colorful in their gifts?
Cancer, stealing life from my brother and mother, “the foundation is gone who will lead the way?”
Lost, lonely but not alone.
Sad...
But I am a survivor

Emotions blowing around like a leaf in the wind.
I know now that I will have to:
Laugh because it’s good medicine.
Find Joy because it’s my strength.
Run to peace for it will sustain me.
When weak, God will make me strong.
When alone (God will not leave or forsake me).
When broke (I will give).
When troubled (I will pray).
When lost (God will guide me)
Weeping may endure for a night but joy will come in the morning.
It is morning time!!!
It is morning time!!!
It is my morning time!!!
It may feel and look like I am on the bottom, but I’m coming up real soon!
Because I am a survivor

I am the one who pain tried to silence.
I am the one whose troubles tried to kill.
I am the one where life almost lost its meaning.
I am the one who never fit because I was not white enough, not rich enough, not smart enough, not beautiful enough, not small enough.
I am the one whose voice will silence the pain; For me first, my children and then for others.
I am the one who stands before you now...
No longer broken...

BUT A SURVIVOR