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@sonja-universe
I tried to raise a King, and in my failure, I weep. Watching the effigies of my hopes and dreams fall to the ‘healing of the nation”. Losing, even as I clutch him to my bosom As he struggles away from my grasp, Spitting vehemently in my face, For I am she who did not do enough. Who knew a mother’s love could be unrequited, Whoever heard of a thing so pure being rejected for the sake of…
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Why I stopped writing, what I've been up to, and why I wanna start writing again.
Why I stopped writing. I would love to blame COVID, or mechanical issues, or something profound but I stopped writing because, in all the hubbub and trappings of being called a writer, I got caught up and lost sight of why I started this journey. I published, there was an article, there were calls to perform my poetry, there were interviews, there was attention, and then a heavy dose of…
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A pledge for the 268
A pledge for the 268
We pledge… To honor King Court’s vision, A people united around the notion of freedom, Free of Queen, King, and consort, No longer slaves to anything but our own conviction. To maintain the fighting spirit of the once-slave sisters, Who under the wage whip of overseers children Waged a revolution against the poverty of people, The desmadification of a culture, A backward motion toward…
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The decision.
She walked as if in a daze through the pavilion of the chief council, past the statue of the hero Prince Klass, a name the elders had insisted he keep, a name that would let no one forget the hell from which they had escaped. She sat on the steps leading up to the great statue, swathed in his ceremonial dress, weapon and face raised to the sky in what she always imagined to be a triumphant…
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Cold again
Cold again, shivering freezing cold. He hit the icy water, and was yanked back out again in short order. The boat rocked its nauseating motion hitting wall after wall of water, and new wet cold splashes assaulted the senses. Cold even as small whisps of steam rose from the hoodie and jeans and socks and shirts. What if it happened again? He did not like the cold, he did not know the stranger, he…
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It's been a while
It’s been a while
Yeah, it’s been a minute and I could give 10000000000.0 excuses as to why. Prime among them being imposter syndrome, a touch of depression, and the mounting changes that covid has visited on us all. I could continue to use those as a shield between me and the yearning to clickity clack my form of catharsis into the universe. I could say that I started to die by my own lofty expectations of who…
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I do not claim any rights to the above image The sound that emerged from her battered throat barely resembled a scream anymore. The noise that heaved out of her bosom, More a wretch than a cry, A hoarse rasp that echoes in the stillness of no one listening. Lost her voice not to infirmity, Or illness, or an inability to string words together, She had lost her voice in a crowd, A malstrom…
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If I were honest
If I were honest
If I were honest… I would tell you I’m hurting, That waking up each morning… is a new adventure in dread. I don’t know who I’m waking up to be and that scares me. Which side of psycho will she walk today? If I were honest… I would tell you about the bounty of tears, that flow in the small moment between woman and professional… because you can’t be both . If I were honest… I would tell…
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The devil I know
The devil I know
The devil I know Because when I was alone, Unwanted, Discarded, lacking value and abandoned He was there Despite warning and threat He was there. And he made good on his promise 2am feedings Colic Diaper rash Hernia he was there Because I was and ugly failure Not worth the love of anyone And I took that out on him And he nursed my soul back to humanity And made me feel attractive…
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Eulogy
‘V was a praying woman, she was always ready to offer a prayer for the sick, those who had trodden the hard path…’ I stared at the words, but they didn’t seem right. They didn’t feel right. They were absent of a great deal of truth. So I started again. ‘V was a good woman. She suffered much, she touched the lives of many. She was selfless in her dedication to her students…’ That didn’t feel…
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Where the sad stories come from
Where the sad stories come from
I’ve been posting for 16 days of activism, well reposting really, pieces from here and from the other blog, I’ve been posting the stories and poems that I feel best exemplify not just the issue of violence against women and girls, but the feelings that they inspire in the people around them. I’ve been posting because, well, like most everyone I too have been hit with the economics of the…
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Dear Wordpress
Dear WordPress
Tonight I’m at an utter loss. I’m lost because I have no idea what to do with all this uck. I don’t mean to burden anyone meandering by me, by oversharing, but then again why not? If you’re meandering by and chose to click why should you not be rewarded with the ability to laugh at my pain.
So here we go….
Have no clue what I’m doing with the blog anymore. There was a time when I was all caught…
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Insomnia
2 am and the flesh is weak,
I don’t own this photo or the rights to it
The mind is weary,
The spirit heavy laden,
What used to be ant hills,
Now feel like mountains,
And the darkness and the silence,
Are pregnant and accusing.
2 am and eyelids are heavy,
Lined with gravel,
But impossible to close,
The oblivion of them,
Most welcome,
But cruelly out of…
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Click clack
Heels clicking on concrete.
avert your gaze, tuck your chin, and be silent,
speak only in her absence.
Sticks never thrown, stones never hurled do not these bones break
High heels clicking on concrete,
the sound of ire never realized,
of crimes committed in the minds of victims unseen,
or perhaps imaginary,
now’s the time for confrontation?
Heels clicking on…
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Cry you an ocean
Cry you an ocean
Cry you an ocean,
Let fall freely from you cheeks
Your own disappointment in yourself
You have struck the path that led you to this
And here you stand again,
Alone,
Unable,
Unwilling,
Incapable…
Underserving.
Cry you an ocean,
Littered as far as the horizon with
Every dream you failed to make come true
Every hope you let burn out
Every promise broken
Every compromise swallowed
For the making…
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Fishing for comfort
In response to photo-fiction 33
“Give me two reasons.” I heard the shudder in her voice, she was trying not to let me hear the tears. She was being dramatic, like always. I told her as much. “Please.” asking in that quiet way she had. The way she had each time she did this, each time I fell for it and indulged her fishing for compliments. I rolled my eyes and hung up. Not this time. I wouldn’t be…
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First impressions
Jessup rounded the corner in time to see a chair erupt from the plate glass window in the front of the address he had been given. The restaurants’ refugees invaded the quiet street. The former customer of the establishment clambered over each other and the shards of broken glass still decorating the window frame to get away from whatever it was that started the commotion.
Outside the group of…
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