The Art of Growing in Purposeful Silence

offering myself  deliberate gentleness.

Nobody is wrong.  But you should not waste time.  You know when a season is finished.  You know when it's time to walk away.  There's no reason to fight.  The fighting words are fake.  The topic is a phony.  You just need a reason.  You know it's the end.  So just say it.  It's over. 

I have not cried since I was told about the home going of my God mama... But I cried, endlessly, the last time I was with her, thanksgiving day, which was about a week before she transitioned.  My tears were brought on because she lost her ability to speak coherently. She kept trying to answer me but most of her words were sounds and facial gestures. My God mama was a woman of words, many colorful hues of words. To see her struggle with one of her greatest gifts hurt like hell to watch.  It was her words that got me through some of the darkest periods of my life. Her monthly handwritten cards, emails, and long conversations over the phone always left me with clarity, guidance, and  peace of mind. Her advice was always delivered in the simplest of forms while remaining robust enough to move my spirit: "The battle is not yours." "All you have to do is your best." "I am so proud of you." "You are so strong." It was

I'm not alone.  I am with my thoughts. 

Starlights and  Wood Marble  Leather  Stairway to another level  Lifted  Never looking back

Everything  doesn't deserve a reaction  Reserve responses for energy that feeds the soul  Put poems in vines Place words in rhymes  Create in the dew A morning Winter grey Lined wood copper gold light Enlightened   Enough to see  Flower blooms  Without Dirt up underneath Flower woke Flower just woke up  Dirt was but a dream  Flower created their narrative  Flower made Dirt important  Now Dirt is just there  Flower felt herself leaving Dirt's ground  Flower put herself to sleep to avoid honesty Flower's nature was to clinch with fear Flower held on Flowered didn't want to lose her comfort Flower didn't want to be without a home Until Flower realized Flower could bloom without Dirt Flower woke up Because Flower wanted to  Dirt don't deserve Flower's thoughts  Dirt don't need to see these words  Or hear them  Dirt

Surrounded by shapes  In a box  All  All along I thought we were leaving  But we were not even moving To be moved  Boxes have to be pushed  Sealed souls of impossibility  Shipment of cannots  Intentionally concealed from the outside Packaged to sell  Hoarded to waste  Stacked on top of one another Or below  Way below with no way to climb Stored to the bitter end Let the dust build on our breath Or Use a knife to cut us open

Lately  I just don't know myself  I can't seem to see beyond the visions and recognize what is in front of me now  I Feel  Lost  And  Unkept How many 4 Not 5  I'm not sad  Just not feeling alive  At peace  Alone  Things inside of me are dying  Dying inside 

Who can say whether you're going the right way when there is no map? The problem is, we have so many directions and apps at hand, we expect all of the decisions we make to be as clearly routed as the blue line between the green and the red flags on Google maps.  Close your eyes.  Breathe.  Open them back up.  What do you see?  Yourself.  And that's all you'll ever see.  So trust that Self and go.  Go and know that you will meet your destiny-destination.  Just might not get there in the way you had in mind. You may not even get  there.  Prepare your atmosphere to go farther than you can imagine.  Plans are based on what you know you want. Destiny is based on the reason for our existence. As much as we think we know why we are here, really, we don't know at all. Hence, the reason why we have to be flexible enough to deviate from our plans during this whole life thing. You haven't seen the highest potential of your greatness yet. You never w

I can be super me  Super vulnerable  Disgustingly awkward  With him With everybody But with him there's no cool It's this little girl  Who always wanted more than she was given  And it's the breath of missing him That may be why I can keep going Moving on.  I am.  Cruise controlling.  With no control of the wheel that sets my emotions on fire a fire that can only be put out with the rain of his voice  Cruise control with no hands  It's a slow ride though  Along a long road  Billboards display our memories  But I don't need to see them in the physical  They stuck with me Engrained  Not disposable  The pain is gone  I don't feel no burns no scars no open wounds No.  Now all my mind remembers is the love and I want it all to go away so I can be able to move on Why haven't I met a new yet  A best friend  A n'gga just to laugh with any time we want Is it because he's still l

Mood disorder  Depressed  It's clear one minute  Scary the next  What am I afraid of  I know better  I miss old spirits  They linger over me  I pray them away  Then I call them right back 

Solange been on my spinner. J. Cole on my Spotify. Between the two of them, I am hearing myself.  I was getting dressed and my pink tea roses fell off of the cart. The water washed the dust off of my floor, the roses laid flat together, but  even after bouncing from the bottom up, the mason jar didnt break at all. Not even a nick. That's a strong vessel if I've ever seen one...  I need to get a few groceries. I have a budget of $35 a week for leisure and such. It's funny what being pushed into a financial wall will force you to do. This is a budget that I should keep myself on, even after my personal recession comes to an end.  I found $4.25 in quarters, nickels, and dimes in my old camel Coach. I thought of all the things I could buy: a Saucelito and provolone from the corner store, a pint of Martinelli's, or a couple of used books from the Goodwill... I went with something that will leave me with nothing to show for my money: a medium chai latte fr

Old black guy knocks on the door, politely.  "Is somebody in there?"  "He's very busy in there." Casually, as if he's talking about a janitor cleaning the toilet with extra care, a plain clothed white cop says. "Yeah, he hasn't quite gotten the needle out of his arm yet."  Laughs exchange themselves with no question of a receipt.  The Harlem Metro North station is to fiends what Central Park is to pigeons.  As I rode here in an Uber from my room in the Heights, taking selfies trying to catch the natural light, passing billboards advertising "A Bronx Tale", and listening to my driver uselessly scream on school children running across the street without looking, my eyes were struck blind by the sun rays that bounced off the glass windows of brand new buildings ... Funny... They all seem to be intentionally placed on a corner, closest to a train line. Gentrification is killing the culture of black and brown communi

10:19PM Phone on 4% 125th.  AC BD train station. Waiting. Not just for the train but the direction that I am supposed to go in. I feel lost. Scattered. During the day I try to keep busy but I lose focus. I cry, quiet tears. I lay in my bed and gaze at the cracks in my ceiling, as if they are stars. I get a new reason to break down everyday. Today I spoke to a mortgage lender that said my credit was so low, he was at a loss for words. I took it well. I told him that I would call him after I got everything straightened out and thanked him for taking the time to help me learn more about the home owning process. Then I called fed loans, for the umteenth time in the last few weeks. Asked to speak directly to the Teach Grant department, for it was they that caused my score to decrease so vehemently. They gave me the run around and transferred me back to the loan department. I spoke to a black woman with attitude, ready for me. I told her this so called letter that I ne

...giving advice to younger women who share my story of neglect ...thinking about the days when I was experiencing those same moments of my mom acting like a real mom... After longing for her love and affection for so many years, one would expect me to have welcomed her new behaviors with opened arms but no! I wanted her to cut the bullsh't.. It was fake, intrusive, and annoying as hell! People in my family would see it from the same lens that I did but they would say, - she's trying. Meanwhile, I'm like oh please! She should have been trying! I regret being like that. I guess I just wasn't ready. At the time, I was the same age as Babygirl in the messages above - about 21 - I didn't know anything about my mother's battle with her mental or my own. I didn't have anyone to ask what to do... I actually don't have any friends or elders in my life who were completely abandoned by their parents enough to have given me guidance when I was you

9:49PM Now Playing: Speak Low - Billie Holiday  As a woman, I am becoming a lot less self-absorbed. Oddly enough, this is allowing me to notice the beautiful contrasts between myself and others. A stark difference that I have recently taken note of is: many people are not as transparent or vulnerable as I am. Sometimes this can be attributed to comfortability, other times it can be attributed to timing. Fact is: everyone processes their emotions and needs in their own way. I have learned that I have to be very aware of the way I listen and speak to people. I have to monitor and sharpen my ability to empower their voices, instead of trampling them with the ferocity of my own. Implementing a reticence of such takes a high level of self-confidence in one's self as a servant leader. ...confidence and practice.    

8:07PM NP: How Much a Dollar Really Cost - K. Lamar Who gave this mouse the permission to eat the hummus off of my roommate's fork? I love my roomie but he is always, unconsciously, leaving treats behind for Minnie and Micky. The worst is when he leaves spoons in the sink, with thick traces of peanut-butter on them. I had roaches in my apartment as child. Growing up, my grand taught us to rinse and fill the dishes with water if we weren't going to immediately wash them; that way, the roaches wouldn't come and feed off of what was left in them. My roomie never rinses anything. When I went into the kitchen, nasty brown Micky ran out of the sink and hid behind the washing machine. It's a sign that I cannot get too comfortable. I need to keep grinding. But it's quite frustrating. Our apartment is so clean. I mean really, we keep it spotless... But we still can't seem to get rid of the rodents.  But I'm living with them. When I mo