Life, Chance, Death, Pain, Faith

LIFE
living
existence

one day at a time
for the rest of your time
trying to be at one’s best

‘because the alternative sucks’

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CHANCE
fortune
in fate’s hand

opportunity
it’s not in your control
what turns the wheel, guides the die

‘life, the moment your eyes open’

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DEATH
finite
infinite

it is what it is
for as long as we’re here
It’s not as long as we’re gone

‘it is the great equalizer’

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PAIN
anguish
agony

in body or soul
and oftentimes in both
you bear the unbearable

‘it’s what lets you know you’re alive’

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FAITH
belief
conviction

the ultimate trust
is the substance of hope
evidence of things not seen

‘all that I have left in me now’

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Today’s Form: Clarity Pyramid

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 83

NaPoWrMo — What If?

What if this fall of silence is as we portend?
Our cheetah lives left not much for the love
We tended to at such a slow caterpillar pace
That which was so fluid, has now grown stiff.

What if it’s lost in the daily push and shove?
Is it worth the time we give to this to exert?
The joy what time has washed away from us
These stolen moments with you do not replace

What if all that’s left is only that which can hurt?
And we’re too scared to escape this devil’s dance
For we haven’t given us a fair chance hence
For this to be the be all-end all of this litmus

What if this is our last and final chance?
Do we have what it takes to Loki’s face scoff?
When we choose to stare at separate walls
Than face each other in the quiet morning’s province

What if this love is a yarn of Cupid’s day off?
Can we just let it go – without a word?
Whose fault does it become it be then?
The nitty-gritty is do we fight or do we fall?

What if we’re at the crossroads of some lyrics I once heard?
‘Each new beginning is some other beginning’s end’
But what if it’s much too soon for all these “what ifs”
To spring to life as the keepsake “what could have been”

Who is a Man?

New York Times article “What is a Man”?

El’Jai Devoureau was not born a man, so fucking what? Look at him. Yes, I said “him”.  Because if I passed Devoureau on the street I would not have questioned his maleness.  I guarantee  none of the males utilizing the drug testing facilities questioned  it either.  They did what they had to do. Mr. Devoureau did his job and that was that.  No one had an issue with him doing his job on that first day until the employer made it one by firing him on the second day.

Devoureau’s employer “heard” he was transgendered and asked if he had surgery, because only “men” are allowed to perform this particular job.  WTF?!  Is she even allowed to ask such a question legally? If she had had not heard Devoureau was transgendered would she have asked? Was any previous male in that position asked to verify their manhood before taking the job? Or did she take their masculinity at face value? El’Jai rightfully declined to answer the question because it was a private matter (aka nunya effin’ bizness), and was fired for it.

The state of Georgia where he was born recognizes him as a man. The state of New Jersey where he lives and holds his driver’s license recognizes him as a man. Hell, the federal government via the Department of Social Security recognizes him as a man.  What is the issue here?

This is hardly the first time someone transgendered was fired from their employment because of their identity. Though apparently this the first time a case takes on the question of a transgendered person’s chosen sex. There are the rare discrimination cases out there, but most settle out of court and I can fully understand.  Why is it whenever anyone has to fight for their right to do (or in this case be) something in the courts of law they must have all of their personal business dragged through the public to do so?  Everything in such court cases places the person under a very hot spotlight and few want to go through that.

“They were judging me for who I am, not for the job I was being asked to do, and that’s wrong, and I was hurt,” he said. “I’m doing this so everyone knows it’s wrong, so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

It’s a damn shame that even if he wins this case (which I think he will),and wins his job back at the drug testing facility  his fight is hardly over. You just know there are going to be the “uncomfortable” to the downright hateful who will do their damnedest to make his job miserable. Still, the fight has to start somewhere and I say bravo for Mr. El’Jai Devoureau for being willing to bring this out to verdict, knowing his privacy is soon going to become very public, and not settling out of court.

Who is a man? El’Jai Devoureau. Fight on dude.

Even As

These stolen moments with you singe my lips
Even as I stand in the blaze of summer’s sweat
Even as I stand in the midst of winter’s onset
My need for you overrides my hardships
Caught in your haze, my resolve slips
As with each touch of you I love and regret
These stolen moments

Even as I know how your poison drips
Even as I know you’ll be my death yet
I stand here and light up another cigarette
I pray each day I’ll free of your grips
These stolen moments


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 Thursdays Poets’ Rally Week 49
Thursdays Poets’ Rally Week 49 (July 28 – August 3, 2011)

NaPoWriMo — Final Goodbye

You charmed me with a personal obsession
Made me feel our stars crossed above
I was the best and the best was your possession
Too late I learned possession isn’t love

The morning’s desperate heartfelt plea
You didn’t mean to go off about the pen
And you kissed the newest hurt tenderly
I was desperate to believe it wouldn’t happen again

In the good times you made me feel safe and sound
In the bad times you were someone I never knew
In the phantasmagoria mess I found
I was helpless as to what to do

Our life was perfect from afar
No one could put the sham to task
A nattily tied scarf to cover a mar
Bruises hidden behind a foundation mask

Even in the face of your constant rage
Saying goodbye was never an issue
The fear of being alone far outweighed
the fear of being with you

I played the perfect partner for so long
I started to believe my own sham
So used to tapping to your song
I couldn’t tell you who I am

And I’m not sure when the tide turned
Or just when it all fell apart
I just knew this love you once earned
Became a huge gaping hole in my heart

You went off on a business trip one day
And I just simply went out
By the time you returned I was a continent away
Redefining who I was about

And for a year you cajoled or threatened or yelled
I was terrified to go out for a walk
but by God’s grace my new convictions held
As I let you in for a final talk

The charm was still there I had to concede
But I was no longer yours to command
Your look of resignation made my heart bleed
But the signed papers stayed clutched in my hand

Still ‘Come back!” wanted to rip free from my lips
But those are words I know I’ll never say
Goodbye’s a word my soul has learned to equip
It’s in my tears as you drive away

The final goodbye lay in a teary puddle on the ground
Memories of you fading into the morning mist
As I remember love comes many surrounds
But never in the form of a fist

The Heart of the Matter

My heart and mental health depend on my ability to reduce hurt and anger as quickly and efficiently as possible. I literally forgive or if I can’t forgive (and there are some things that can’t be forgiven) let it go. I try to at least dispense with the destructive anger/hurt that can keep me from functioning.  I don‘t want to waste my energies on the negatives any longer than necessary once I deem it serves no purpose. It is an effective method that has worked quite well for me.

Except when it comes to forgiving myself.

Why is forgiving ourselves of our own wrongs so hard?

Oh, the scenarios that play out in our heads from the sublime (well, it is what it is, but we‘re cool), to the not-quite-ridiculous (I HATE YOU AND I NEVER, EVER, EVER WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN *insert string of nasty, insulting and in your head well-earned, hurtful verbiage against yourself here* !!!!), when we know we’ve done somebody wrong.

You make it to your forties odds are you’ll find yourself doing something close to, if not the same thing as,  something you’ve actually  counseled others to forgive or at least let go in the past. Then again, you weren’t  the one doing the wrong when you counseled, were you? That moral high ground is pretty damn nice until it’s our own dirt that muddies it. There are things we can forgive ourselves easily for. There things we can forgive ourselves for, when the injured party cannot forgive us.  But what about the things we cannot seem to forgive ourselves for, even if the injured parties forgive us? It’s a whole different ball of wax when you’re the one giving yourself the riot act, huh?

It’s a sick thing we do to ourselves at times. This emotional equivalent of  self-flagellation, if you will.  “Woe, look at me, I’m such  a bad person. No one could punish me for what I’ve done as hard as I’m punishing myself!” Yes, we hurt because we hurt someone else (intentionally or not). But with or without the injured party’s forgiveness, at some point it has to stop. The logical part of us is going to say we are  indulging in personal pity party and we need to figure it out if we‘re going to function.  But to paraphrase Tina Turner “What’s logic got to do with it?”

I’ve been tryin’ to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about…forgiveness
Forgiveness
–Don Henley The Heart of the Matter

Whether we formally say to ourselves “I forgive me” or at some point “let it go”, eventually , we all have to look in the mirror and for better or worse, learn to live with ourselves and what ever it is we’ve done.

That in and of itself is form of forgiveness…

The Heart of the Matte

Mousetrap…

A few words of wisdom this very wet (for me) Friday morning. This was given to me by a friend. I admit it’s on the cutesy side, but the overall end message is worth it.

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. “What food might this contain?” the mouse wondered – he was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning:
There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!

The Chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said, “Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered by it.”

The mouse turned to the pig and told him, “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!

The pig sympathized, but said, “I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my prayers.”

The mouse turned to the cow and said “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!

The cow said, “Wow, Mr. Mouse. I’m sorry for you, but it’s no skin off my nose.”

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer’s mousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house – like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey.

The farmer’s wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer’s wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital, and she returned home with a fever. Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchet to the farmyard for the soup’s main ingredient.

But his wife’s sickness continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed them, the farmer butchered the pig.

The farmer’s wife did not get well; she died. So many people came for her funeral; the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness.

So, the next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn’t concern you, remember – when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk.

We are all involved in this journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort to encourage one another.

REMEMBER:

EACH OF US IS A VITAL THREAD IN ANOTHER PERSON’S TAPESTRY;
OUR LIVES ARE WOVEN TOGETHER FOR A REASON.

But when…?

I have now attended a funeral for the third weekend in a row.

Third weekend. IN A ROW.

This new year is only 22 days old and so far I am not liking 2011 at all.

I walked out during the third or fourth person speaking on today’s dearly departed to go to the bathroom. I had my coat with me and instead of going back into the service I put it on and walked out the door. And kept walking;  I just wanted to go home. I was dressed very warm and could only really feel the cold on my face. It wasn’t a deal breaker and i really needed to clear my head so I decided to walk towards home until I became too cold and/or too tired.

That alone should have been a warning bell, but I was in no state to hear it.

As I’m walking I’m going through a tsunami of emotions.   I cycle in and out of insomnia, going two-three days without sleeping, then coming home and being out cold before 8pm and not rising until my alarm goes off at 5am.  These near weekly snow storms and work related issues have added to the stress. I bury one friend for infinity last week; then in a completely unexpected turn of events a former friendship I had emotionally buried suddenly finds itself resurrected this week, which brings in a whole new set of emotional turmoil as we awkwardly work out trying to find our way back to some state of what was.  Add in I went out, got completely wasted and had to go to work the next day with my head all over the emotional scale. And yesterday, I learn another friend has made the decision to move to another state and will be doing so relatively soon. I’ve put up a fantastic front, but I see this past week especially is taking its toll.

I was  five blocks from “home” when the warning bell I did not hear earlier went into full on Star Trek red alert klaxon mode. I was heading towards the wrong home. I was heading towards the home I lived in when I was still married. It is in the exact opposite direction of where I live now and had been walking out in this freezing ass weather for a good thirty minutes before I noticed. What the fuck? The enormity of it comes crushing down on me and suddenly I am freezing and exhausted. I hop in a cab and go home.

So here I am. In my warm bed, partially on my lap top typing this, partially gazing at what’s left of the sunlight bouncing off the snow-covered rooftops,  trying to defrost from more than the weather that’s left me feeling cold.  As I sit here, I realize, with all the emotional turmoil I’ve gone through, I’ve yet to cry.  Yes, I’ve shed tears. But I have yet to have that long hard, crawl into a fetal position, full-out, deep ugly soul cleansing bawl. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks hugging people, holding people, reaching out to people giving them encouragement, letting them know they’re going to be okay.  Yes, I could go and have been to my friends where I find succor and loving support.  But me being me, keep moving on. I’m moving on so well in fact, I head towards the wrong home. Why?  Because it was the last place where I was loved.

That no questions asked (because they already know or have a good idea), loved. That pull you into their arms, holding you tight loved. That not letting you go until it’s as out as it can be loved. That maybe it takes a few minutes, maybe it takes an hour, maybe it takes until you fall asleep exhausted loved. That’s what I need. However, only the Powers-That-Be can say when I’ll known such once more.

I know that breakdown is coming, but when? I pray that the tipping point does not occur in the middle of the work week, because that would be just craptacular to fall apart at work.

In the interim, I write and I wait…

Sigh…

Embarass versus Humiliate – How Much Is Too Much?

My then twelve-year old I think three or four friends over and they were in his room playing video games. I’m in the kitchen when he comes in for –I don’t remember what now– and says something outlandish but just barely within the guidelines of acceptable to me. Again, I don’t remember exactly what was said, but it was just annoying enough for me to react. I happen to be filling a pot with a four-quart pot with water to put on the stove at the time.  I jokingly held the over his head reminding him to watch his mouth and don’t think because he’s getting bigger he can get crazy. He looked at the pot over his head, folded his arms across his chest and just stared at me as if to say I dare you.  Because I really was just semi-chastising him and really did not want to clean up a lot of water, I carefully tilted the pot so only a small trickle landed on his head.  Mr. Man, Jr. then puffed out all of his mighty twelve year old frame, rolled his eyes and with an arrogance worthy of his father (those that know my late-husband can appreciate that), and declared.

“I THOUGHT so!” That was a bad move on his part; a BAD move.

Without a second thought, I turned the entire contents of the pot over on his head. I not so nicely, reminded him that he was a twelve-year-old child and he was to never, NEVER think he that he predict what I would or would not do to him as his mother. I then ordered him to go to his change clothes, come back, and clean up the water so I could continue cooking dinner.

It was only after I went to change clothes, as I had also spilled water on myself in the process, that I remembered he had company. I have no idea what he said to his friends, when he entered his room-dripping wet, but I have to imagine it was not pleasant for my child to have to face his friends like that.  I only learned several years later when the subject somehow came up, on how embarrassed, he was by that and that “I still haven’t forgiven you”.

All parents understand that some unforgiving moments go with parenthood. I never ask after the fact, because I didn’t care.  He needed a reminder, right then and there, on who Mama was before he got out of hand and that was that.

I mention the above to serve as a precursor to the following.

So, there’s this video that has run a small circuit.   Please note, while the video linked to in and of itself is not necessarily offensive, the site it comes from can be very much so, thus those at work, don’t be surprised if your company’s filters block it from showing.

http://www.worldstarhiphop.com/videos/video.php?v=wshhBtdQvDJLQy55M05q&set_size=1

Here’s the Cliff Notes version: A young black male (twelve to fourteen years of age) was seen “acting hard” in his Facebook statuses etc. The youth’s uncle, who took considerable objection to his nephew’s online persona, somehow saw the entries.  What was the uncle’s response? To force the boy to use his webcam to live stream a video of him (the uncle) “whipping his ass” with a belt while he explains that their family does not come from such (the gangs and rap culture). He makes the boy renounce not only his behavior online, but that all rap and gangs are “fake” and “bullshit”.  You really need to view the video to understand it all.

Now I love that the uncle is obviously involved in this young man’s life. He obviously commands the respect of his nephew; how the nephew represents himself, and by reflection, his family outside of the home, including online.

What I question is it necessary to take a belt to the boy in this situation?  I’m NOT saying there should never be a belt in raising a child, for that is a parent by parent decision, I’m just asking was its use necessary for the lesson here.  Was the humiliation of live streaming it necessary to the lesson.

As I said before, all parents inherently understand there are going to be lesson taught in which the method of teaching that will not be forgiven. These unforgiving moments are usually something that involved humiliation. It is a tough call to choose to teach a lesson that way, but sometimes it is the only way to deliver a message that may not otherwise be heard. Still, there is huge difference in embarrassing your child (which I fully own up to with mine at that moment), humiliating a child (the same scenario with the uncle, but only in front of the uncle’s peers) and complete humiliation of your child, which is what I think was done here.

I’m sure in my son’s case his friends teased him about it for a while, but it was over with in a few days.  This boy had to go to school the next day, with the knowledge that most of his friends and countless others saw this.  If the comments that followed the video are an indicator, it’s going to be one long hard row to hoe.  How long can this run before the novelty dies? This video is the kind of thing that can, and most likely will, pop up years from now. This level of humiliation on a young soul has the backlash of possibly creating the “hard” person his uncle was attempting to discourage. How much is too much?

I’m hoping that the uncle truly takes his “this is not where we come from” lesson to heart. I do not want some over zealous person to report the uncle and he goes through ridiculous legalities for this, but neither do not I want to see him on BET or  YouTube or wherever grasping his fifteen minutes of family values on his nephew’s back. Even if the initial video isn’t deemed bad enough, certainly this would be too much.