Happy birthday mom.



In a world that taught her to fit in – that different as wrong.

My mama refused. She stood out.

She taught me different was strong.

She marched with The King, if only in spirit

She danced at Woodstock, but claims was just there to hear it.

She would’ve been a suffragette.

Had The timing been right

And an abolitionist

She was ready to fight.

But always for the underdog

and usually against “The Man”

To be a voice for those who cannot speak

For those tired, poor, and weak.

Plagued by depression

And undiagnosed mental disease.

A life of abuse and tragedy

With little reprieve.

She held her mamas hand

When their house burned down

Curtesy of the Texas chapter Klan

She cried as she watched her cousin shot

When he sat in the back of a Lincoln with J. F. K.

She held my hand after the brick went through our window, curtesy of North Carolina KKK.

She taught me hatred isn’t always about the color of your skin.

Some times it just because you speak out or refuse to fit in.

She reminded me some people

In this world will tell you different is wrong.

But remember – different is strong.

It’s easy to fit in.

Simple to go along.

But you have to do what’s right.

To sing for those who cannot find their song.

She taught me fundamentals about the air and the earth.

Said it was a given right that I received at birth.

She taught me to embrace the voices.

To listen. But cast out self doubt.

Choose creativity instead of destruction

And be carefully what you send out.

Because the world will give back three fold what you send out in alarm.

She taught me Take no shit. But do no harm.

She taught me different is strong.

She taught me different is strong.

The Last Time

When was the last time you, held My hand?

Or, gave a kiss without, prompting?

When was the last time you, gave a hug on your own accord?

Or did a favor without it seeming so, daunting?

Because what I want is a partnership, a camaraderie

Something to feel like it’s not just me.

Not to lay in silence only inches away

Or ignore us as if there’s nothing to say

Because when you can’t find the light in yourself

I gladly sit in the dark with you

But the light is what you refuse to see

Knowing Everyday i fight the dark with in me.

Day #1095

I’m not good at this thing called emotion

I’m not good at the sharing it too

Too many years of being the strong one

And I’ve only gotten good at bottling it up

And pushing it down through and through

Then when all a sudden it will hit me or the slightest thing will go wrong.

And I’ll have a thousand feelings in the blink of an eye.

And break down crying at my desk

Wipe away a tear as I say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

A childhood being the strong one

I guess I grew up too soon

A lifetime of being reliable for everyone else to lean on

In three days it’ll be three years

Since I lost the woman who kept me guessing, but was always there to clean up after tears.

it feels like just yesterday

I cleaned out her room.

Had that conversation where she told me not to have kids too soon

Was surprised by all the things I found

And knew she meant not to get lost and let yourself drown.

And I feel that’s what I’ve done

Not with children of my own

But in Trying to please everyone

Because I swore I’d never be her

Letting emotions fly on a whim

But for all she did that statements not fair

So I guess I want to be a better her

When it comes down to it, in the end.

But I can’t do that crying at work

Or feeling alienated at home.

So maybe some day I’ll have what it takes

To find myself and be my own.