I can do bad
All by myself,
I heal once you’ve gone,
Hurt only in the knowledge
Of how I was played,
It was the audacity you had,
To take a good woman’s worth and affection,
And treat it as low as you could go,
I don’t need you in order to feel bad,
Damnit,
I am bad,
Badass,
Too good for what I’ve been picking,
And in my own due time, I’ll find
One,
Grown worthy of attention that is mine.
Tag: strength
Goddess Emerged
Here I am,
Freer than I can remember being
In a long while,
All these fresh, glistening feelings
Settle in upon me:
Emotions, sensations,
needs, desires;
Things I’ve pushed away
For so long,
Too long
Aspects of being,
Delights of life that I have denied myself
Become now apparent glittering possibilities,
Present reminders
of my sensitive, seductive self;
Pieces I shuttered for safe keeping
For too long,
But never gone
Only held;
Rising, here and now
Transformed
Into a new manifestation;
a Goddess,
Refined with time and pressure
Ready too for her due from life,
In more than the hefty weight of the world,
But in the ripe exquisite beauty and pleasure of its bearings,
Forged and fiery,
with light of the sun she gleams,
A diamond emerged from the rough.
Confidence
I am capable
Of the seemingly impossible,
Of proving not only others,
But my own doubt
Wrong;
Believing in,
And being in awe
Of myself
Was one of the most healing
And refreshing acts
I could undertake;
This is not vanity,
But self-preservation,
A courageous upgrade
Of self love,
Heralded to the world,
As “confidence”.
“They Called Me Tina Turner, again”
As a child
Kids tauntingly called me,
for reasons I could not see,
“Tina Turner”.
I balked at the comparison
That I could not understand
Because
That
Was not my name.
I scoffed
Because I was just a child,
And not, however old the singer was then;
I hated it.
I hated it because
I couldn’t understand
What being black and beautiful
Even as a child meant
And yes, often
It meant gazes of judgment from foreign eyes
About who and what I was
It mean negative perceptions
But it also meant the good.
And now I appreciate my mother’s response
That the tears of this child could not fathom then.
“They called me Tina Turner, again”
“Yes”,
And I was reminded that I had just been
awarded,
an unintentional compliment;
Of comparison to one of the
Greatest of all time:
The astonishing gorgeous,
Talented,
Resilient,
Powerhouse
Who is
Tina Turner.
“Why not be proud?”
Voice
Standing solo,
This is my uncomfortable spot,
But this is right where I need to be,
I call out,
And hear nothing,
But the sound of my own voice,
It is this voice that I am tasked with coming to know,
How close you are,
Originating from my center,
And yet how foreign you are to me,
Taking you in,
Taking you on,
I must come to know you
Like a separate being,
Alive, with wants, needs, desires,
I feed you my thoughts,
And must learn to be less self-conscious about them,
My fears threaten to starve you,
As they have before,
Voice,
I must aim to make you strong,
To let you mature with the taste of my tongue,
and the hum of my throat,
Like a babe I must learn to speak,
To have a voice.
Nails
My nails are long,
And strong,
Not brittle,
It is a sign of my health,
Of my body’s apt recovery,
From life
She of Letters 