Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
BIBS, BRUISES AND BULL SHIT
MY SONS HAVE A WONDERFUL MOTHER, IN ME. BUT THE OTHER HALF OF THER TEAM IS NON-EXISTANT... MY YOUNGEST SON ASKED ME YESTERDAY "WILL WE EVER HAVE A DAD, AGAIN"?
TALK ABOUT YOUR WOW MOMENTS...
I DO THE VERY BEST I KNOW HOW... I GIVE THEM WHAT THEY NEED. BUT I WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE A BLACK MAN, BLACK MALE, A BLACK BOY... AND I WILL NEVER KNOW THE EXTENT, FULLY, OF THEIR PAIN... I'M HURTING FOR THEM...
I CRY FOR THEM... I AM ANGRY FOR THEM. I RAGE AGAINST THE WIND AND CLIMB MOUNTAINS FOR THEM AND YET, I WILL NEVER KNOW THEIR PAIN, THEIR EMPTINESS...
ITS HARD NOT TO TAKE ON THE BLAME OF A SITUATION I DID NOT CREATE BUT WHAT IS A MOTHER TO DO WHEN YOUR CHILD(REN) HURT(S)?
THIS ON THE HEELS OF KNOWING THAT THE ONE MAN WHO COULD , MAY NOT...
I USUALLY WRITE FROM A PLACE OF EMPOWERMENT, BUT I HAVE NEVER BEEN WEAKER... TODAY I WRITE FROM THIS SPACE. UNFAMILIAR...
SO, TONIGHT I CRY THE TEARS OF THE HURT, THE BROKEN THE DOWN TRODDEN, THE WEAK, THE SCORNED THE LOVELESS THE EMPTY THE LONLEY, THE FRAIL....
ANOTHER LOOK IN THE MIRROR OF LIFE TO SEE THE TEAR STAINED FACE OF A SINGLE MOTHER. ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT TRYING TO SORT IT ALL OUT. TRYING TO MAKE A DOLLAR OUT OF FIFTEEN CENT. SCHEMING TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL.
THE GENIE IN THE BOTTOM OF THE JOHNNIE WALKER BOTTLE IS OF NO COMFORT AND THE ARMS WHICH I DESPRATELY NEED TO ENGULF ME ARE... WELL THERE ARE NO ARMS...
SO, I RAGE AT THE WIND A BIT LONGER AND I CRY A BIT MORE AND I HOLD MYSELF ALL IN AN ATTEMPT TO HOLD IT ALL TOGETHER FOR MY 3 SONS...
THEY KNOW MY STRENGTH THEY KNOW MY WEAKNESS, THEY KNOW MY LOVE... THAT WILL HAVE TO BE ENOUGH... FOR THE TIME BEING WHAT IT IS.
THEIR CIRCUMSTANCE, MY INABILITY TO GIVE THEM COMPLETE BALANCE... I AM SOOOO SORRY...
TALK ABOUT YOUR WOW MOMENTS...
I DO THE VERY BEST I KNOW HOW... I GIVE THEM WHAT THEY NEED. BUT I WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT IS TO BE A BLACK MAN, BLACK MALE, A BLACK BOY... AND I WILL NEVER KNOW THE EXTENT, FULLY, OF THEIR PAIN... I'M HURTING FOR THEM...
I CRY FOR THEM... I AM ANGRY FOR THEM. I RAGE AGAINST THE WIND AND CLIMB MOUNTAINS FOR THEM AND YET, I WILL NEVER KNOW THEIR PAIN, THEIR EMPTINESS...
ITS HARD NOT TO TAKE ON THE BLAME OF A SITUATION I DID NOT CREATE BUT WHAT IS A MOTHER TO DO WHEN YOUR CHILD(REN) HURT(S)?
THIS ON THE HEELS OF KNOWING THAT THE ONE MAN WHO COULD , MAY NOT...
I USUALLY WRITE FROM A PLACE OF EMPOWERMENT, BUT I HAVE NEVER BEEN WEAKER... TODAY I WRITE FROM THIS SPACE. UNFAMILIAR...
SO, TONIGHT I CRY THE TEARS OF THE HURT, THE BROKEN THE DOWN TRODDEN, THE WEAK, THE SCORNED THE LOVELESS THE EMPTY THE LONLEY, THE FRAIL....
ANOTHER LOOK IN THE MIRROR OF LIFE TO SEE THE TEAR STAINED FACE OF A SINGLE MOTHER. ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT TRYING TO SORT IT ALL OUT. TRYING TO MAKE A DOLLAR OUT OF FIFTEEN CENT. SCHEMING TO ROB PETER TO PAY PAUL.
THE GENIE IN THE BOTTOM OF THE JOHNNIE WALKER BOTTLE IS OF NO COMFORT AND THE ARMS WHICH I DESPRATELY NEED TO ENGULF ME ARE... WELL THERE ARE NO ARMS...
SO, I RAGE AT THE WIND A BIT LONGER AND I CRY A BIT MORE AND I HOLD MYSELF ALL IN AN ATTEMPT TO HOLD IT ALL TOGETHER FOR MY 3 SONS...
THEY KNOW MY STRENGTH THEY KNOW MY WEAKNESS, THEY KNOW MY LOVE... THAT WILL HAVE TO BE ENOUGH... FOR THE TIME BEING WHAT IT IS.
THEIR CIRCUMSTANCE, MY INABILITY TO GIVE THEM COMPLETE BALANCE... I AM SOOOO SORRY...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
