A Third World Prayer

Bruised, blood-stained feet of a child.
Growing pains, working in the fields
‘Till she grows lame.
Dusk ‘til dawn, cultivating rice
hoping one day to get a raise
in status above her siblings.
She has four brothers
so why even bother,
in a male infested world
that she will never conquer.
Sold into slavery at thirteen
to a man 20 years older
in the dark he would behold her,
undeveloped features make her angelic
but a look in the mirror and all she sees is demonic.
Vomiting at her sight, but she really knows
that she’s starving the baby inside,
that she hopes dies, so it won’t have to be a girl
so that she can tell her lies,
that her mind and grace is what makes her defined.
Her bones boldly defined in her thin white garment.
Masked scars she cuts into her arms,
being in hell is the reason
she hasn’t seen her mom in 10 seasons
after her father auctioned her off to this demon.
Laying down in bed
she says her final prayer:

“Lord, swallow the hate that consumes this world.
Shed tears on the fires that burn our souls,
Evoke wisdom for those who will listen,
And I pray peace for all God’s children.”

Sincerely, An Adult

Journal Entry: 10/26/14

Truth: I miss being a kid, going to school (which was easy then) playing outside all evening, then coming home for dinner. My favorite meal: plantains, with white rice and backed fish (or smoked turkey in a stew).

Sad truth: When I was younger, I always wished I could be older 😦 Then I had to listen to people say enjoy it while you can, being a child is effortless. Then I would ignore them and say I want to make my own rules, have my own freedom and the likes. Freedom sucks actually. I miss having a bed time…I sleep now when I have time.

Sadder Truth: I now tell immature middle and high school students to enjoy life while they can: Free shelter, free food, free ride to events, and too much time to think about nonsense things, like who to take to a dance, and how frizzy your hair gets when it rains. Then I listen to them sass talk be saying they can’t wait ’til their “grown.”

Saddest truth: I’m reminiscing about being a child, on my blog, when I have midterms this week. Life has a funny way of making you realize the things you’ve taken for granted at the most inconvenient moments….

Sincerely,

An adult

Perception

shattered mirror
Every season in life brings new adventures that can be dreadful or exciting, all depending on how you look at it.

While your life might seem like an obstacle to you, it can be the answer to someone else’s prayers.

It’s all about perspective.

Sometimes you need to change the way you look at your job, the way you look at your loved ones, the way you look at your friends or even the way you look at your adversaries.

But perhaps most importantly, you need to change the way you look at yourself.

Although you may be comfortable (or not) with the current season you are in

You should know that there is something better waiting for you on the other side of perception.

 

Sincerely,

shattering my old perceptions

 

What Lies Beneath

10/5/16

Journal Entry: What Lies Beneath

 

What lies beneath that pancaked drug-store foundation

Or those green contact lenses that you use to hide your light brown irises.

What lies beneath the temporary washed out auburn die, that covers bold, jet black tresses.

 

What lies beneath your degree in petroleum engineering

Or the many awards littered around your dull apartment full of scholarly accomplishments.

What lies beneath the years of labor to achieve your goals, to find out it was never what you expected.

 

What lies beneath the years you let pass to hold on having a family

Or the lost times with loved ones that you occasionally called on Christmas and birthdays.

What lies beneath your reasons, to forget to live your life.

Surely not worldly pressures to obtain the tangible, by forsaking the intangible……

 

Sincerely,

A young adult of the millennial generation

 

I Forgot

I Forgot,

To look at blue skies every morning and let the sun’s heavenly glow drip down my skin.

I Forgot,

To be thankful for my past, both the good and the bad and the breath I’m using to write this poem.

I Forgot,

To be present. I’m really not in this moment, but thinking about tomorrow, next week, next year…next life. I want to learn how to live in this moment.

I Forgot,

To write….my greatest talent from God, overshadowed by my consent.

Sincerely,

Choosing to remember

Took A Break

Had to take a break to reevaluate my life.

Had to take a step back, to realize all the people I lost along the way,

and appreciate the ones that always stayed.

Had to take a break from the hectic semester and give myself a real vacation.

Had to take a step back to realize I’m better off with the less that I have now,

compared to the more I had before,

I’m coming back for good, hopefully I’m not misunderstood

that I had to take a break. Simple. 

But now I’m fully reloaded, accessible, adjusted,and primed to get my blogging on. Simple.

Daily Motivational

“Someone was hurt before you, wronged before you, hungry before you, frightened before you, beaten before you, humiliated before you, raped before you… yet, someone survived… You can do anything you choose to do.”

–Maya Angelou

 

There’s something about this year, that’s completely turned my world upside down. I use to be comfortable with being comfortable. But now I crave to be uncomfortable, I crave to learn more, grow more and commit more. To I started a 7-day plan to stay productive following the guidelines from the Everyday Power Blog (http://everydaypowerblog.com). So anytime I feel wronged, tired, fatigued, worried, embarrassed, and the likes, I will recite the quote above, and keep it moving.

Oprah’s Insprirational Words @ 60 On How to live life (Beware, you will cry)

On her 60th Birthday, Oprah Winfrey wrote a special birthday message on her official website. Read it below:

Sixty. I’m turning 60 this month! I’m so glad I’ve lived long enough to say those words and celebrate their meaning.

I’m turning 60. I’m alive. Healthy. Strong.

I’m turning 60, and—please don’t take offense—I no longer have to be concerned about what anyone thinks of me! (You know, the old Am I doing it right? Am I saying it right? Am I being what or who I’m “supposed” to be?) I’m turning 60, and I’ve earned the right to be just as I am. I’m more secure in being myself than I’ve ever been.

I have reached the moment Derek Walcott describes in his beautiful poem “Love After Love”: “…with elation / you will greet yourself arriving / at your own door, in your own mirror / and each will smile at the other’s welcome.”

I am in awe of the way my journey here on earth continues to unfold. My life has been marked by miracles for as long as I can recall—and even before. (My entire existence is the result of a onetime frolic under an oak tree.) My early days speaking in a Mississippi Methodist church—Baptist leanings, shoutin’, and Holy Ghost included—prepared me for a future of speaking in a public arena I could never have imagined.

And now, at 60, I simply want to share what I’ve been given. I want to continue to encourage as many people as I can to open their hearts to life, because if I know anything for sure, it’s that opening my own heart is what has brought me my greatest success and joy.

My highest achievement: never shutting my heart down. Even in my darkest moments—through sexual abuse, a pregnancy at 14, lies and betrayals—I remained faithful, hopeful, and open to seeing the best in people, regardless of whether they were showing me their worst. I stayed open to believing that no matter how hard the climb, there is always a way to let in a sliver of light to illuminate the path forward.

We go through life discovering the truth about who we are and determining who has earned the right to share the personal space within our heart.

This I also know for sure: God—however you define or refer to Him, Her, or It—is for us. The forces of nature are for us, offering us life in abundance. We humans narrow what is an open field of wonder and majesty to the myopic reality of our day-to-day experiences. But there is extraordinary in the ordinary. Every day and every breath is magic—if we can only see it for what it is.

Some days the awareness of the sanctity and sacredness of life brings me to my knees with gratitude. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that the little girl from Mississippi who grew up holding her nose in an outhouse now flies on her own plane—my own plane!—to Africa to help girls who grew up like her. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound!

I approach this milestone, the landmark of 60, with humility, supreme thanksgiving, and joy. Knowing for sure grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

Life Cycle

Poison Ivy

Imitation of “Mushrooms”

i

Climbing plant, a commoner in this region

Ternate leaves, just leaflets of three.

Flowers displaying every shade of green.

Upon closer magnification,

Spotted by white berries.

Berries that carry the sac of life.

Glistening and garnished in oil,

Only to cause irritation on impact.

Armies marching across the wall,

With roots of purpose reaching for the sky.

ii

The cycle has begun.

Water trickles into the abandoned

Cracks on the wall.

The lifeless wall mothers life.

The sun nourishes the outcast

A foreigner in its own world.

As it climbs for freedom

Its goal, its destination.

Born to thrive in any season

Born to thrive in its ragged, rough dwelling.

iii

How can something reach for the sky,

But be overlooked?

Oil of brilliance

That poisons the flesh.

Berries of birth

Doomed to death.

Three leaflets of luck

Condemned to harm, rather than save.

Life thriving on the un-living wall,

Rather than on the soil of the living.

iv

This poison is harmless to the owner,

This poison is harmless to others.

It is only poison when it is faced with defenses.

The defense is the cycle that must end.

Whether the Ivy reaches its destination,

The sky of freedom it yearns for,

Past the rejection, failure, pain

Past the happiness, love and gain,

It is all up to the Ivy.

The oil that coats its life does not kill,

It is the poison of sin that becomes the poison of death.

 —SHADE AKINMORIN