buried deep
inside,
a part of self
wishing only
to hide,
preferring to
“live”
a lie.
how to see
it
let alone speak
it–
that,
which altered
a Life.
innocence
forever lost,
a new trajectory
is now forced.
but not
without
a heavy cost.
one can only run
from The Truth
but so far
before it
festers and scars.
An untold story
will travel from life to life,
causing all matters
of angst and strife
until it is
revealed,
brought
finally
to the Light.
All humans yearn to be free;
to manifest our unique destiny;
to be wholly who we were designed to be.
A caged bird loses its melody-
it cannot fly-
let alone sing-
with clipped wings.
What an utter shame,
a sorrowful loss
this game…we play
of a boss,
of another mere human
knowing better than us.
Why do we so easily
give our innate power away;
so often stifle what is inside us
to say?
We all lose
when we chose
captivity
over
creativity;
conformity
in lieu of
individuality.
We are encouraged to be ourselves,
to come out of our protective shells,
then
often
shunned
when a few
do not see
as we do.
Labeled sinner,
we are marked with a scarlet letter-
excommunicated
mutilated
married
raped
shot
subjugated
stoned
burned!
These, it is believed,
is how we learn
to be silent
remain quiet;
stay small
do not stand tall.
What is the threat
that freedom for all
is perceived
to beget?
The shackles
bind
both ways.
What so ever you do to me,
that you do unto thee.
All humans
were meant to be
free.
No matter the costs
or how long,
Spirit will indeed
sing its songs.
Memories of Me as Child
very rarely
feature
prominently
in my mind.
Sometimes,
a memory
will come
spurred by that
of another One.
Such was the case
recently
when the memory of
a beating came to me.
Perhaps, the worst ever
by my parents
wrought,
the result of me following
my child heart.
An adventuress,
I have always been
from deep within,
yearning to explore my world,
for real life to unfurl.
Such was the case when
at ten years old,
I did something very bold,
against which I’d been sternly told.
I visited the home of a classmate,
Molly was her name.
She had dark hair,
freckles and such seductive flare!
Molly lived in the biggest house I’d ever seen,
just down the road from my apartment building.
Four stories, it stood,
dignified and handsome –
in sharp contrast to the rest of the ‘hood.
Intrigued, curious, in love, I was.
Hence, how could I have declined
Molly’s invitation to come inside?!
Adventure called,
I could not it stall!
A blissful afternoon I spent
while my parents wondered
where their child went.
Alas, all good things must come to an end;
my parents found me at my friend’s.
That evening, I learned
there is a price for authenticity,
that its sweet pleasure is earned.
Fear and anger were unleashed
with every swish
my father’s belt
on my young skin
released.
Though, the physical wounds have since healed,
the memory is sealed,
seared forever into my Soul.
There to one day be told.
Not a story of pity, no!
Rather one of victory
and great resiliency.
For you see,
I am still me
filled with the same boundless curiosity,
in love with Life immensely.
Always will I be,
no matter the external story.
Sculpture: First Portrait of Roma of Barbados, 1932, Jacob Epstein
The first of three girl childs
born of my pop and mum.
I would be the quiet, idealistic one,
the one who dared not stir the pot,
but rather enjoyed observing a lot,
paying particular attention
to the tangible tension
between the sexes
on an almost daily basis.
The women won handily,
ruling the home rather easily.
This all conveyed to me-
directly and
subconsciously-
the strength needed
of a girl child
constantly
to escape vulnerability
within a world
fixated on her sexuality,
rarely her intellectual ability;
a world where girl child’s
heart and brain
are discounted,
deemed second class citizens.
Hence, Girl Child,
either rule or be consumed;
with no apology nor permission,
go for yours or be floored.
No middle ground
here
to be found.
Stand tall,
to a boy child,
never ever
play small, roll over or fall!
Not just for you,
but for all your Sisters too!
Written in honor of the fourth annual International Day of the Girl Child, 11 October 2016
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