Louisiana Is Calling This Granddaughter

Call me crazy,
But Louisiana is calling
This socal girl
Deep in a place unfamiliar.

A culture I know
Mostly second hand,
Is summoning
This granddaughter
Home.

Like Gumbo
I am mixed with flavors
That gloriously blend
For delicacies
And delights unknown to
Those not in the know.

Home of my spirit ancestors
Calls me.

Home is where
I must go.

Something is waiting,
Perhaps a crown
For a queen.

I hear you calling
My womanhood home.

For My Sister Spirit

For my sister-spirit of golden honey hue,

Sunlight radiating from within

Goddess-Sister-Friend

Passion cascading through spoken word and pen.

I spoke to my ancestors on your behalf,

Asking their spirit strength to be sent to you.

For love to another bronzed goddess; to save you.

So peace, my dearest is on the way,

On angel wings and opened doors.

Answered questions and a calmed mind

And time, to just unwind.

Allowing you to continue to soar

Toward your life's purpose with an unsubdued roar.

In sisterhood and solidarity,

I send all of me, 

And the power of my ancestors.

Fire and will,

Endowed with Panther's pride,

Is what resides within you.

Head high, headdress adorned.

Move forth in comfort and confidant stride,

Into a brazened new dawn.

They are here to give us strength.

Vitamin D Therapy

Vitamin D Therapy

My melanin 

Activated,

Energized. 

Bringing forth healing

Of the daily wounds

Inflicted by simply living.

Sunlight raising serotonin levels

Gloriously chemically free.

A gift from ancient Ra

For this bronze skinned beauty.

So I can walk forth and

Illuminate the way

Humanity should go.

All healing and heating 

Life force

That is the sun.

Period. Enough.

I need to start properly

Punctuating my sentences.

With periods.

No more commas and conjunctions

That string nouns with verbs

Ending with explanations and justifications

Or apologizing my way through life.

Just a plain and simple

No.

Or yes.

Or even

I'm. Just. Done.

Done taking up for you,

Making excuses for you,

Expending too much of me in the process.

This. Will. Now. End.

With a period.

Or maybe even an exclamation point.

“Hell no” might even be in order,

Even if it offends your fragility

And you fool heartedly use your waning power over me

To beg for one semicolon;

Where you gravely attempt to erase my period.

I matter.

My tired matters.

My heart matters.

That pain from your need to run me,

Own me,

Tell me when,

and how,

and why,

I should be something other than

What my heart tells me.

Until I'm drained,

And pained,

And pleasing you’d out.

It all ends with this. Period.

A Shared Poem for Mother & Son

A Shared Poem for Mother & Son

Mother’s Voice	Shared	Son’s Voice
	I can’t believe you’re my
Son.		Mother.
	We have nothing in common and are nothing alike.
	You
Dance.
		I sing.
I sing.
		You dance.
	Arguing all the while.
	You say I
Don’t listen.		Don’t hear you.
	And it frustrates me that we fight.
	When, truth is, I want to
Help you be your best.		Make you proud.
	Show you
I understand.		I’ve got it covered.
	Convince you
I’m your biggest cheerleader.		I know you’re my biggest fan.
	Please I remember I will
Overreact.		Make mistakes.
	Remember I am not perfect and that I still
Love you.		Need you.
	And am trying to do my best.
	So where do we go from here?
I pray.
		I apologize.
I regret.
		I keep trying.
I worry.
		I pause.
	We’re going to make it. Because in the end,
	I’m  passionate,
	I’m loving,
	And a little bit crazy.
	And I want to really breathe in life.
	So,
I’ll worry less.
		Listen more.
Work to let things go.
		Show you I know.
	And trust
That I’ve taught you the way to go.		That you’ve taught me the way to go.
	Because in the end,
	I love you.

The Paradise inside my Head

Sometimes I live inside my head

Resting on pillow clad hammock

Swaying slightly in the tropical breeze

Putting my mind at ease

When the trouble of the day

Won’t leave me at bay.

The paradise I live in inside my head

Is surrounded with crashing waves

And salty sea sprays

Letting my heart rest

Even momentarily

From the toils of daily struggles

And the wearing of a smile laden mask.

The paradise inside my head

Offers escape

When there’s nowhere else to hide.

So there I abide

In warmth and light

Aglow with my own love

Within the paradise inside my head.

Giving Presents to Find Presence

As the year draws to a close, the time is ripe for reflective moments. Most recently, of the Christmas celebrations with family and friends. I took a new approach this year and worked on giving myself what I could afford of the dream gifts inside my mind.Tickets and plans for a glamorous night out where I might actually wear my tiara and call myself Queen, new clothes that flattered me in the ways I knew would best, things to read and dedicated time to write. Some gifts lay clad in shimmery paper and glistening bows under the tree with the rest, while others, in my mind remain, as promises to self.

Indeed, it’s become the gift that keeps on giving. In spending precious time, creativity and generous energy planning and giving presents to myself, I’ve given presence to myself. For someone who’s given to the point of feeling often, given out, relishing in those things that make my heart sing, give me presence, time and energy; a different kind of prioritizing to the one person I have learned to ignore, push back and make excuses for so long that it is now the norm.

How are you present in your own life? Are you like I’ve been for so long that you’ve forgotten who you really are or what makes you feel childhood glee or have you gone so far the other end that you are only present with yourself? So devoured by your own needs that you don’t see those who love you for who and what they are, for the gifts they have and for the presence they would like to share with you. As we get older, both are popular paths.

So, as 2016 is about to dawn, I challenge you to see where your presence really is. Under a tree among other tossed aside toys, engulfed in self hatred or selfishness? Or is it in the moment filling your spirit so you can shine and inspire others to do the same?

It’s ironic the presents, reminded me of the presence I have given to everyone but me. And this discovery, is my gift to you. Cheers to daily  presence in 2016.

Grown Up Christmas Without Dreams

Back when I was “young and cute,”

With plans and hopes and dreams,

Thinking there was a “way”

Just to be

Successful

Happy

Beautiful and Bright

Like the lights that make their once yearly appearance.

Thought there’d be yearly Christmas photos on the beach

And driving to see lights.

Decorating together

And sharing spiked eggnog

And fireplace snuggles while

Entranced by packages tied up with strings

Shining brightly under the tree.

Instead.

Grown up silence that cuts like a knife

Dreaded chores and trips to the store

Longing glances at those now “young and cute” and hope filled,

Yet to be jaded and battered

By life’s trials.

Looking ahead at more slowing and loneliness

Regretting the should haves

Knowing for some things, it’s just too late.

Sentimental tears fall on middle aged cheeks

Where childish dreams used to live.

Replaced with practiced smiles and holding on to observed joy

Like beautiful holly with its spiked green leaves,

Grown-up Christmas without dreams.

Inspired by The First Full Day of Winter

The first full day of Winter

And the darkness inside me is almost as deeply entrenched.

As the year draws to a close,

And I look to 2016 to be bigger, better and truer,

I have to ask where my mind is and how

I will be the change

I want to see.

And not just for others, this time, for me.

I look back at so many times

I sacrificed what I truly wanted for excuses.

That my not having would make someone else happy.

Then, it became,”well, no one is going to make me happy

So I might as well make others happy,

To “give and maybe, one day, you will get.”

And here I am,

All given out,

Used up and feeling thrown out

So even the smallest of caring gestures

Is overlooked and taken

In jest and joust.

Here I am,

Owning responsibility for

Others taking that giving for granted.

Blaming me for not hearing the phone ring.

For laughing alone in the the theater

Or toasting “Salud,” with my invisible twin.

So winter with it’s short days and engulfing darkness

Befriend me and the healing

That must begin

So this is the end

Of the deepest, darkest, saddest day.