Diva Over-Night

Why do we admire Angela, adore Lauryn, and honor Harriet?

Could it be the hair? The message? Or the gun?

What makes this Queen ruler?

She will not hide behind the mask, for she knows her features are the blueprint, embroiled in hyrogliphs.

She holds the love for her people, she will not compromise their royalty in the the battle of social doctrine.

Her eyes pierces through the lies because she carries the spirit of Queen Nzinga.

She hasn’t forgotten.

Her veins oozes purpose from the blood of her ancestors, their voices swirled in her coils, they lift her through the wilderness, enduring the struggle as they lead the masses home.

Her identity peaks down the canals of her hips, the fullness of her lips, and through her breast of life.

She is the African warrior.

She is the goddess.

She is the people’s light.

The reality really hits when you admit truth. Not in the sense you speak truth out loud, or you admit fault to someone. But, the hard truth. When you face it yourself.

Fear of greatness is real. It’s the notion when you finally get, that in order to incite change, change within is necessary. But, change is hard. No, not like the enlightenment from inspirational quotes on social media.

The real work is deciding and demanding change from within. Holding oneself accountable by measuring actions.

No more coping mechanisms, no more remorse, and finally no more wanting change, but finding solace in comfort.

You know, being comfortable is scary too. The dependence on security. The contentment of lack of progress. The compromise.

We have to make a choice, between the compromise and fear of falling…

The starting over, reinventing, rebuilding that comfort zone. Losing time, just to get back on track!

Yet, strength comes from activity, from building up endurance. It’s the capacity of storage accumulated through the different roads traveled. The blueprint.

Are we really afraid of failure or building ground beyond our ceiling?

When we ask what is the meaning of life, why we were put here, what is our purpose, the ultimate medium is to find and seek love through showing unconditional love for others, God is love, maybe our purpose is fulfilled when we love the hardest and sacrifice ourselves to vulnerability and turmoil, not for the sake of reciprocity but because of compassion faith and hope, the ultimate measure only found through grievance and unselfish deeds passed along from the host, those who will carry the torch through turbulence must remain faithful and dedicated to that same purpose-there you will find meaning-for it is the ultimate act of selflessness-

Self doubt is the worst
The exposure of buried secrets & ugly truths,
The truth always makes its appearance, although never invited.

Who are you to scrutinize my truth? To rationalize my pain? To begin writing the sequel without ever really reading the manuscript?

Maybe I watered it down,

For my sake, for my escape & maybe your comfort & acceptance.

All the while not understanding my truths, my narrative needs no explanation, only understanding for myself.

How does one ever make sense of a senseless world. How does one escape the tree in which fuels growth?

Escape the pain, the marks, the scars in which fueled the will to grow? But that fuels seems temporary, a crutch to walk with the joneses.

They always find the crutch don’t they?

I used to get to it first, the ah ha moment, the thought process that provokes growth,

I was the solid stature holding shit down, but you, you get there first, then you patiently extend your arm and wait.

You wait for me to follow, not as a guide, but a comedian with an ever so sly snicker, you know I’ll get there, you believe and I believe more, I chuckle, as I learn to follow,

I giggle the concrete off the stature

I demanded compensation because you had the luxury to be free
I thought I could make you feel the same pain you invoked in me

You see, it was my way in after you shut me out
I felt so determined to get to you somehow

It was through this plan that the reality escaped me, The closer I got to revenge the more foreign I became to me

Soothing in spite & betrayal while bathing in anger & insecurity

It took this journey for me to see that the price for my revenge was my integrity

Putting the pieces together that you carelessly scattered were the first steps in this heavily one sided battle

How can the deepest melanin be see-through?

How can someone so loud be unheard?

How can someone so angry be walked on?

It is said she doesn’t belong, her eyes not bright enough, her tears not soft enough, her pain unfounded.

Her confidence hides behind her mask. She is afraid to reveal herself for her homelessness will be exposed and her vulnerability mocked, ridiculed.

Her enemies are one in the same, the one who resembles her father, the hierarchy of shades brighter than her hue and the unraveling of coils closer to her nemesis.

Who will fight for her as she goes in isolation?

Who will carry her burden when her spirit collapses?

Who will cry for her when she is gone?

• Who will thank her for her sacrifice?
  The birth of human kind

These words are not worthy of, nor a representation of Angels,

Your,
Wisdom,
Perseverance,
Selflessness,
Strength,
You see these words could never capture essence of greatness,
In my flaws you find explanations,
Through my eyes extract worry,
With your comfort elude healing, With your smile combat pain,
What is left to give when your all is given?
Somehow all has no limit. It must be an angel who I have known.
Angels too, must rest in their place at home.

I just want to be free, that real kind, where I smile at the silly movies playing in my mind, where I’m always the protagonist.

Who understands these up & downs, sorrows, pains, goals and dreams more than I?

I want to be free, to play these mind movies in my reality, to embrace those moments alone, doing the things I do when no one is watching, no one is judging.

My face bare and skin revealed as my pores breath in and out, I am not ashamed here, I am protected from rejection, I am fearless here, floating in purpose.

The love is real here, there are no veils, no conditions, no hidden agendas, no fruitless  expectations.

The air is clearer, the fruit is sufficient, the gaze is soft, the giggle is childlike, the smile is uncontainable.

The peace can be tasted, the passion overflows.

I’m on this journey to beautiful. I could never imagine how peaceful it is. I’ve traveled from plane to plane dragging my luggage with the components I thought would make the transition. My carry-on carried on the basics, the necessities to arrive at each city. I gaze out of the window in anticipation of what scenery I would observe, what characters I would encounter. Before the discovery I had to make sure my costume was in tact. Every night as the daylight switched shifts with the moon, so would I. The scarf maintained the manipulation and held in the lies, the face cloth soaked the darkness from my eyes and the blood from my lips, for the first time I caressed my face softly, apologetically acknowledging its sacrifice. Encouraging its lenience for the next beat. Today I will undo the ties scolding the scalp, I won’t attempt to stress the coils into submission, into confirmation, I know her spirals are resilient, they hug my mind, as I abuse them, yank them, school them under death heat, I kill them and still they are reborn, sent from the gods from within, they are my protectors, healers, my existence, why must I disrespect them in the name of beauty, of accumulation, of acceptance, when they ask only for nurturing? They desire nothing more than the free, nothing beyond their composition, the nectar of the trees, the fuel of the soil. On this journey to beautiful I see them for the first time, I give them all I have, I appreciate their sacrifice, I’m humbled by their resilience, I now will restore what my ignorance stole, I will repair what the intruders damaged, I will love what I was given, I will nurture what I didn’t know could bloom, on this journey to beautiful.