She bever knew what to be.

Any doubt she had, multiply it by 3.

Years went by, the pain faded away. 

She tried and tried, but had to stay.

Words weren’t easy, but she found them.

Her voice was low, muffled and tame.

They could hear, but weren’t truly listening.

What she said didn’t make sense.

She asked them one thing.

“Do you believe in this?”

They honestly said, “no”. 

That is, until they saw her persist.

She did it without hesitation.

She did it without doubt.

She did it in time, enough to move out. 

A better world, could their be such a place?

She thought she could handle it. 

She needed a saving grace. 

Grace would be nice, especially with a little hope. 

Can’t forget about faith

Nothing really matters when you’re walking such a tight rope. 

Her life is always changing. 

Why should it be the same?

These words are getting easier. 

Now there’s no one to blame. 

Poetic Fascination 

This morning I just could not sleep! It was probably all the caffeine I consumed yesterday or the dream I had of having a large (more like whole bottle) of wine that had me wired, who knows. Mornings like this I find myself thinking, praying, and writing. This morning’s writing resulted in a brief poem about justice. 

The art of diversity, 

Tryna to make it work. 

Social inequality dripping,

Ripping apart our Black. 

My black. Your black. 

THEY can’t have it, THEY won’t feel it. 

I think, you think, 
Tear us apart and we’ll come right back.

Aspire and reach higher, sometimes prayer is all you know. 

Believe me I tried to write more for this poem, but it did not work out in my favor. I find that my writing is more affirmative when it is left to simmer and I come back to it later. Then I wrote this poem as well that has no title:
The irony be what lies between the sheets. 

A real somebody with an attitude just like you. 

Broken hearted girl, they write songs about you.  

“Girl, you got a Dad?”

“Nope, just a Father.”

Up above, the Real One. 

Out in the streets your not the only one. 

Looking, searching, playing hide and seek;

it’s one game, can’t be beat. 

To be continued…