Meadow's Mark

She knew her time had come. It'd been a long month but she enjoyed the rest. Enjoyed the break. Enjoyed the darkness. Now she needed more room. Needed to be free. Needed to breakthrough. She tried but to no avail. She tried again, tried hard to sail. She broke through this time. She flew and flew like a beautiful dancer in the sky. She looked up in the sky for him but she could not find him. She looked below and there he was. She wondered why he was the same. Why, as a caterpillar, would he remain? "I have changed," the caterpillar said. "I've transformed too. Just like you." She smiled and flew, for she knew. Lies he told was all he could do. He did not change. He'd never be a butterfly. She flew away, without a goodbye. 

Yo' left, yo' left, yo' left, right, left. Your MILITARY left, soldier.  Oh, you woke up late? Beat your face, soldier.  You miss your family? Well, Jody is your kids' daddy now, soldier.  PTSD? What's that? Quit malingering, soldier.  Suicide?! Not today, soldier.  We need you to cut the grass.  You're on the edge. Suck it up, soldier.  Drunk on duty? You ain't thinking, soldier.  Seen your battle buddy blown up? He'll get a memorial.  He'll get a burial. His family will get money.  His kids get a scholarship. Quit whining, soldier.  When I got blown up I reported to work the next day.  Want to end the cycle?! Not today, soldier.  We got a game to play. It's called war.  Countries in distress?! We can't help them all, soldier.  We choose a few. Soon you'll be on your way.  Want to know how we choose the countries?! Me too, soldier.

My confession admits to my depression. I used to ignore it. Treat it more like an apparition. It was just there, sorta like your hair. But now it's gone and all I'm left with is fear. Fear and shame every time you call my name. I turn my head because you don't look the same. The voice it matches and I close my eyes to smile. The memories all flood back, my beautiful little child. "But mama, it's still me. I'm still the same. Why, oh why would you turn your head in shame?" Because I've let my anxiety and society let me think that hair could define me or you or our relationship. I could never love you less and even though I couldn't imagine loving you more, i do. Every day I wake up, I'm glad it's with you. My son, you're the best and you make me better. You've embraced this cut even when I ran from it. Your tiny frame enjoyed this transition with a joy that I have never endured. I'm grateful your smile is contagio

The veil falls over my face but I still see the light. I slowly rise towards it without a fight. My body is weightless and I follow the light surrounded by darkness. I do not turn or look back for I have given up the physical. My spiritual has taken the place of my mental. This transcendence engulfs me in a light brighter than flames. This must be it. The way a life ends. The way we find ourselves in the next place. Limbo must be short or I skipped the line. I've floated up straight to the great divine. I accept my fate with a smile on my face. This must have been the warmest embrace. Before it's all over, I fall back to where I started. Swaying gently like a leaf that has dearly departed. Separated from the great tree that it once was one. Away from the light. Away from the sun. I open my eyes from the deepest slumber. Wide awake and full of wonder. Thank you creator, you have been my savior. You've granted me another day. I arise with much haste fo

"I'm late." Is the text I send. The usual one. Again and again. I don't think I've been on time for anything. Not even my birth. Boy, that must have hurt. I ponder on how much I really owe my mama as my hands continue to wander. Touching every garment in my closet. Judging piece by piece. Ripping my self-esteem apart in the mix. I fall on my bed as a casualty in this war of love. Getting dressed for the one I'm thinking of. But this date, the one that I continue to be very late, isn't the one I'm thinking of. What's a first date if it's not a poetry slam Or jam Or spoken word Or library Or some other literary digest where you overfill yourself on life. I jump into my jeans as I imagine the words whisking me away to a magical place. That's probably the only date that I'd never be late. The first date of my dreams is the one where it seems as though I'll be known in the streets more than the sheets. "There s

"Huddle time," a voice shouts.  Murmurs begin to whisper about.  It's that time again.  Same time every day.  It comes around so fast I forget it exist. Wasn't it just this time yesterday?  Where did 24 hours go? I wonder as i lean against the wall.  This very blah room could ruin anyone's day.  It simply was nothing but gray. The furniture and walls just meshed into one. Nothing existed in this room except numbers and machines. Everyone falls in line all humdrum and sad, except for me.  My position is perfect. This view is means for an escape.  I'm outside now.  Sitting under a perfect tree. With it's perfect green leaves and perfect brown bark. In the perfect shade. In the perfect grass. In the perfect sun. Putting sunflowers in my hair.  Watching ladybugs dance through the air, laughing and taunting the ants below.  "Oh silly ants, you don't know how to be free. All you do is labor on like the worker bees. No fun i

I came across this in a different post and I figured i could answer these questions better in a poem. 1. Who am I? 2. Who have I been? 3. Who do I want to be? What picture would be better to accompany this post than the most RAW I have. This is me now, at 30. Tired after traveling for 3 days to get to Malaysia ((long story)) yet the absolute happiest I've ever been. I'm a mother, author, and world traveler that FIRMLY believes in being as AUTHENTIC as possible, inside and out. Rawness is what makes us ALL who we are. This post is just to let you know a little bit more in a general sense. I mean,  we've all been "there" before. We're different yet We're all the same. _ Poem below 😊 _ Who am I they ask? Who have I been they ponder? What do I want to be? She's been through it all, how can she smile? It must be fake they surmise. All these whispers but not one asks me. Well I am me and that's all i can be i shout. Simple as that. I

If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it? It's only right that the person who finally, albeit unknowingly, helped me crossover into the blogging world is a poet. Blogging from  https://poeticlyblessed.blogspot.com/ ....oh the irony, considering the fact that I loathe poetry. Maybe, just maybe, deep down I want to be a poet. Not really sure if I'm deep enough. Or maybe I ramble too much. And I keep going and then I have a novel on my hands. I can't stop at a page. I can't stop at a paragraph. I can't stop myself...... As the rain beats against my window pane and this child's hand sits on my chest, I feel so alive. The energy flows through me. I'm up writing away at 5.38 am and I know I've found my PURPOSE....but I gotta get up. Gotta get back to the grind in less than an hour. It's just my passion is too much to ignore. This is me. This is who I am.....let me get ready to put on my mask.....another day of pretend.