I am mother and child
I hear sounds of torn history ripped at the seams
I see child's hands reaching for stars
Trying desperately to grasp dreams
I long to know their stories of sacrificial glory
I am mother and child
I pretend sometimes that I lived in their time
Their story bound with mine
I feel a oneness with their lineage and it's what grounds me in my potential
My ability to be great
I touch dried tears of rescue delivered too late
I worry that my existence is bound to that struggle
And that dreams disposed of are forever lost to the rubble
I cry at the thought that they will never see hard work pay off
That they might never know the reward
And die only knowing the cost
I am mother and child
I know their selfishness was only part choice
The rest, no more than forced consequences for women with no voice
I say that I don't hold tight to the resentment
But I fall victim to projection and regression to past days
When they were one and the same
I dream of reconciliation between my desires and my patience
I try to give in to the purpose within
I hope one day change comes
Because I am mother and child
And decades of times gone by piled upon rubble and concrete
Rooted in history that devoted itself to the masterpiece that is me...
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Anyway Poem
Written By: Kent M. Keith (Attributed to Mother Teresa)
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Patience Wont Break These Chains.
“Racism is man’s gravest threat to man – the maximum of hatred for the minimum of reason.”
-Abraham J. Heschel
My skin is not a choice
If it were, I'd still choose it
I wear it like an open wound
Translucent
Undisputed
Still we have something to prove
400 years of enslavement
Still owed unpaid dues
We’ll pay with our lives and have to die for it too
Most will never understand
The burden of this flesh
Cursed with the demand to do more
But still receive less
So they’ll go on ignoring
That it’s my everyday existence
This skin: a bitter-sweet blessing in disguise
A complimentary prison
We didn’t choose this
But it’s what keeps us rooted
Futile catastrophe
Minute enormity
This tiny empire lives inside of me
Breeds disgust for a scorn nation
Whose every investment is rooted in race relations
Fallen fallacy
Collapses into the laps of those who endure it
But power stays stagnant in the hands of the ones who refuse to cure it
And it’s always been a Black problem
A Negro problem
An African-American problem
Granted the burden to fix them
But not given the equation to solve them
We are still hurting
Centuries of having it instilled in our brains
That we aren’t worth it
Aren’t deserving of God given rights
To which we were birthed in
But it’s where we’ve gained our fight
To be greater than
Stronger than
Those who told us we’d never make it
So we have to take it
Because everything stays the same with patience
And hate isn’t tamed with patience
And freedom isn’t gained with patience
And pain is not healed with patience
And chains don’t break with patience
And change don’t come with patience
Change has NEVER come with patience
-Abraham J. Heschel
My skin is not a choice
If it were, I'd still choose it
I wear it like an open wound
Translucent
Undisputed
Still we have something to prove
400 years of enslavement
Still owed unpaid dues
We’ll pay with our lives and have to die for it too
Most will never understand
The burden of this flesh
Cursed with the demand to do more
But still receive less
So they’ll go on ignoring
That it’s my everyday existence
This skin: a bitter-sweet blessing in disguise
A complimentary prison
We didn’t choose this
But it’s what keeps us rooted
Futile catastrophe
Minute enormity
This tiny empire lives inside of me
Breeds disgust for a scorn nation
Whose every investment is rooted in race relations
Fallen fallacy
Collapses into the laps of those who endure it
But power stays stagnant in the hands of the ones who refuse to cure it
And it’s always been a Black problem
A Negro problem
An African-American problem
Granted the burden to fix them
But not given the equation to solve them
We are still hurting
Centuries of having it instilled in our brains
That we aren’t worth it
Aren’t deserving of God given rights
To which we were birthed in
But it’s where we’ve gained our fight
To be greater than
Stronger than
Those who told us we’d never make it
So we have to take it
Because everything stays the same with patience
And hate isn’t tamed with patience
And freedom isn’t gained with patience
And pain is not healed with patience
And chains don’t break with patience
And change don’t come with patience
Change has NEVER come with patience
Monday, May 16, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Check out my feature in Alwayz Therro Magazine!
http://www.alwayztherro.com/2011/05/05/rated-next-roselyn-berry/
Reflect and Strengthen featured in Hemisphere's Inflight Magazine!!!
Check out Reflect and Strengthen in last month's issue of Hemishpere's Magazine!!! Reflect and Strengthen is a young women's collective based Boston that I help to run and am also a member of.
http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2011/04/01/wonder-women/
http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2011/04/01/wonder-women/
Monday, April 25, 2011
Bags (Prelude)
It takes a long time for young girls to view their mothers as human. We grow up watching them conquer the world like superwomen; all the while, gaining unrealistic ideas of what we have to live up to. Trying to walk in mommy’s shoes, our spirits overwhelmed with the notion that we could never fill them…until that morning we wake up and realize that our mothers, much like us, are not perfect. Every woman can pin point that day, that moment, that incident that defined her newfound relationship with her mom. The day that we began to despise instead of emulate them. That day that we began to look down upon them, wish they were better, smarter, richer, prettier, more ambitious, skinnier, braver, more independent…and we hold onto that resentment. It walks with us, breeds life inside of us and becomes the space that harbors dislike for other women who look and act just like us and who walk the same walk as us. It becomes the place we harbor self hate. We begin to blame our mothers for the reasons we don’t have more, hurt less or know how to love better.
Somewhere down the line, somewhere in the mainstream of our adulthood, where self acceptance meets forgiveness, we begin to look into the mirror and see them. Many made mistakes. Many did what they could at the time with what they had. Many were young, some too young to be raising children. Some were angry, not at us, but at the world for not taking more responsibility for our children and placing more value on our lives, equipping mothers with the necessities of what it takes to not have to work three jobs and depend ONLY on the grace of God to raise us.
Some will never reach this knowing until they too become mothers, when they can finally look their mothers in the eyes and say “I know what you were going through…” Some of us will never get there because somewhere deep down we’re still carrying the burden of all that pain, still feeding off of the idea that we are worth less than the mistakes that our mothers made.
Only when we allow ourselves to let down our guard and heal can we begin to peer into their eyes and see ourselves in them. Only when we begin to base our perception of them less on their mistakes and more on the knowledge of how FUCKING hard it is to be a woman in this world will we accept them as human. Our mothers deserve that much…they deserve to be accepted, acknowledged, loved, adored because they carried us; not only in their wombs but through life. Our mothers are the backbone of society. They nurture life and prolong existence. Where would we be without them?
Mommy, I dedicate this poem to you. You will forever be a superwoman in my eyes…
Somewhere down the line, somewhere in the mainstream of our adulthood, where self acceptance meets forgiveness, we begin to look into the mirror and see them. Many made mistakes. Many did what they could at the time with what they had. Many were young, some too young to be raising children. Some were angry, not at us, but at the world for not taking more responsibility for our children and placing more value on our lives, equipping mothers with the necessities of what it takes to not have to work three jobs and depend ONLY on the grace of God to raise us.
Some will never reach this knowing until they too become mothers, when they can finally look their mothers in the eyes and say “I know what you were going through…” Some of us will never get there because somewhere deep down we’re still carrying the burden of all that pain, still feeding off of the idea that we are worth less than the mistakes that our mothers made.
Only when we allow ourselves to let down our guard and heal can we begin to peer into their eyes and see ourselves in them. Only when we begin to base our perception of them less on their mistakes and more on the knowledge of how FUCKING hard it is to be a woman in this world will we accept them as human. Our mothers deserve that much…they deserve to be accepted, acknowledged, loved, adored because they carried us; not only in their wombs but through life. Our mothers are the backbone of society. They nurture life and prolong existence. Where would we be without them?
Mommy, I dedicate this poem to you. You will forever be a superwoman in my eyes…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
