I’m loving him with half a heart, this other half it’s lost.
In dreams I swim in while I sleep, when I wake it’s still gone.
When I close my eyes I’m searching for you, running through my past.
Breaking through strands of time just to hold you at last.
Floating down a river on my side you stood there in a suit, next to you a woman dressed in white and a baby between you two.
I called out to you and smiled and told you you’d have a boy of your own, I saw the joy on your face as I floated past down sorrows stream.
I guess this is the aftermath of sin and shame that I had once heard of. Never knowing that it was so real, I’m living in my pain.
Loving with half a heart while the other half is numb, is like playing a beautiful melody to the deaf, it’s as if it doesn’t exist.
I wake and remember where I am and with whom I share I my bed.
Looking at him while he sleeps, I remember you and your breath.
Calling his name, I’ve almost called yours more times than I can count, it’s like I’m stuck in times past and trying to break out of a glass clock.
That other half of my heart that’s lost within my sleep, please let me know when I can have it back and when I close my eyes there we’ll meet and again I’ll hold you as if it is the last.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
There it was.
Fragmented. Almost Frozen. Shattered. Unrecognizable.
That beating pulse was still pumping strong as I stood stunned, staring, my eyes locked on this image lying on the cold cement floor of that subway station.
I bent over slowly to get my hands on this life source, swept the glass aside the blood stained ***** with my freshly manicured nails. Pulling the fist sized swelling instrument closer to my body that was dressed in prim attire. Slowly I straightened my spine to standing.
Shards of glass gashed my fingertips, spilling the matching color of my nail polish all over my pristine pumps.
Scrambling to dislodge the obstructions that aimed to cease the existence of this life piece.
My collared tucked shirt drenched in red, rolling down my pencil skirt and splashing to the gray surface below.
Still in oblivion as to how this was tossed from the speeding subway train through plate glass at full speed and landed at my feet.
Feeling the warmth from the struggling ticker, every emotion within my body came to life as if one large breath had been forcefully blown back into my lungs, all the vibrancy that dulled to near death became bold....and it dawned on me.
I unbuttoned my blouse.
Spread the flap of the shirt wide open.
Reached under the bones that held my ribcage together...to the hollow portion of my chest...I drew my hand back out...fell to my knees and wept...I had become so cold and automatic that not even I had known that I had been waking up daily without one.
I gripped that essential piece of existence and vowed to never do it wrong again, To listen, to follow and to love...carefully filling that gap in my chest and breathing sincere passion once again. I had found my way back to me.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 1:59 AM UTC
Let me reach beyond this pit of seemingly endless darkness, pierce my hand through the roof of this imagined cave and grimace at the pain of the light that burns my skin. Claw to pull the weight atop that feels like a 500 lb. body that I've drug around for the last 3 and a half decades and whisper to myself that I can do this once again.
"Where did she go?"
I ask myself as if I'm literally searching for the girl that I once knew myself to be, as I stare at the blank sunken eyes in the reflection of the mirror. The woman who stood strong and built like an ox on that stage with the blinding lights and glimmer. The woman that carried her mothers ashes down those stairs that day from the crematory, picturing her frail body flung across her arms and once I let those ashes go, I never really let that weight off of me.
Weak.
Is the only word I feel that I have and I've wrapped myself within it and allowed my mistakes, anger, pain and loss engulf me.
"Where are you?"
I whisper again as I run back down the dark alleys of my thoughts in what seems to be a never ending run.
"Break free from this darkness"
I beg my heart to connect with my brain and ignite a fire in my soul once again.
"Mommy, I have to tell you something"
My little boy says in a playful, sweet endearing voice before he slips off to sleep.."I love you Mommy"
And my heart pierces and I pray that this jolt will ignite the fighting strength within me to rise back up and take on tomorrow as if it were my last day alive.
For now, I'll sleep.
I'll pray that I'll open my eyes at sunrise and this heaviness will somehow be lifted and I'll climb my way back through that black hole and I'll finally be able to fully embrace this gift that I've been given.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 2:07 AM UTC
Sometimes,
All you feel is the pain within the confines of your heart and you're convinced that what molded and made you this way, is all that you've got.
Sometimes the silence is the most treacherous noise and you're certain your lungs will cease to inhale again if you have to hear it any longer.
Sometimes the aching of healing makes you wonder if it's worth it.
We're all hurting to heal and longing for contentment in one way or another.
It's just, how do we get there from here?
And can my tattered soul and wounded heart make the trek?
Is it really, just live, hurt, attempt to be whole and then die?
Do we get to at least hold the ones we lost again at the end of this?
Is there some sort of resolute or lesson learned?
Or is this it?
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
For the past two years, I've written parts of this in my mind and it never felt right to put pen to paper until now.
I needed to reach a place of peace and full forgiveness to fully express to you the language of my heart, in a way that would voice transparently true and real.
Whether I ever send this to you or not, it's finally on a tangible form of matter and emptied from my busy mind and heart, making room for more of what matters.
I hope this finds you well.
Written below is life.
The fear, desolation, loss, pain, abandonment, loneliness, sickness, regrets, rejection and utter disbelief, became a platform for growth.
Stretching my mind and heart to endure more than I thought I could handle and the belief that I could possibly die from a heartbreak, built me.
You've missed out on beauty.
Watching Gavin grow from the daily tears of losing his pawpaw and wondering when you were going to come back, to the occasional question about his past and he's grown into already completing multiplication equations at the age of 6. He aspires to be a paleontologist and travel the world, with a map tacked large across his bedroom wall, nestled in our home, the one that overflows with unconditional love. That allows breakdowns to happen, because we've all been there. He's come from daily tears to hilarious mannerisms and has a personality that every person, from his barber to his Taekwondo instructor, have fallen in love with. He still wakes up to silly songs every morning and is known as Best Buddy because he's the best boy that's ever lived. He knows he is loved, despite the small ache that I know still gnaws at his tender heart from time to time and I've built a community of strength around him to assure him that he's safe.
Emily has grown into a strong beautiful almost woman. She's already chosen a career path and she strives daily to achieve small goals in order to reach the large ones. Mapping out her sophomore and junior year to be completed in one with home studies, and I'm amazed at her drivenness. She is kind, sincere, forgiving, understanding, smart and wonderfully gracious and thoughtful. She battled with severe anxiety after losing our home and went through months of cognitive therapy and medications to help her sleep. To now having voluntarily stopping the therapy, weening off of the medication, working out daily, eating healthy and taking on multiple babysitting jobs. This life pain has taught her that people make mistakes, that nothing in life is certain and to cling to your family tight because it's all that matters.
Kaitlyn still has her peculiar Ramona Quimby mischievous traits and never fails to ask the same mind boggling questions at the most in-opportune times. She's as tall as Emma and is drop dead beautiful. Her grades are exceptional and she's passionate about fitness and loves her friends. She was one of three 6th graders to make the competitive cheer team at her school, that cut 15 girls at tryouts.
What I Love most about her is her genuine thankfulness. Every time I check out a register at the grocery store or buy her things as simple as a toothbrush, she expresses gratitude like no one I've ever known.
The sleepless nights spent tossing and turning crying myself to sleep, replaying the story over and over in my head, have now turned to bright beautiful mornings.
I wake up to a person that makes it his daily goal to remind me that I matter & that I'm loved.
He's endured the tears flooded that followed with anxiety drenched vomiting, held me and told me that I'm the most beautiful, even in those states.
He's made me laugh from deep down in the belly, accepted all of my flaws and encouraged me like, never before.
He hides notes throughout the house and in my personal belongings so that I'll read them. In hopes that the words he's written will sink into my subconscious, the same way that the ink sunk into the paper and I'll finally believe my worth.
So, thank you.
For pushing me out.
For giving me the opportunity to see even more immense beauty in my children, forcing my heart to become bold and strong and giving me the die or fight strength to blossom into the Fierce woman that I've become.
I needed to prove you wrong when you spoke words of death over my life, "you're children will never amount to anything, because they have you as a mother".
Every new friend that I meet and families we befriend, are in awe of my relationship with my children and always congratulate me on having raised them into kind respectful people.
Thank you, for shaking my life so heavily that I was able to really know who God is, more deeply than ever. Forgiveness became a whole new meaning to me and my kids watched as all of the pieces healed and they've been able to heal right along side of me. Loving flawed and leading with love has become a staple of our home and lives and this learned trait will be inherent within them for the remainder of their lives. So once again, thank you.
I am where I'm supposed to be.
It's not unfinished business.
The pain is almost fully healed and I'm grateful to have experienced the pain and loss.
So that I can grasp what's at hand whole heartedly.
The sun still continues to rise, as you used to say and the morning fog lifting daily stripped the hardness from my heart.
You came into my life for a reason and a season and I wish you nothing but prosperity, love and happiness. Best wishes on the remainder of your life journey and I hope you have found peace, love and all of the wonderful joys that God freely gives.
Farewell.
Sincerely,
Natasha Ivory Evans
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
I've written a thousand words that have trailed behind me for decades.
If I attempted to turn around and pick them all up as if I'm collecting shells from a beachside, it would be wheelbarrows full.
Write.
Just write Natasha.
Quit attempting to perfect this gift and just let it unravel.
Don't criticize, judge or feel
Guilt over your need to shut away and bleed the thoughts that you're unable to speak onto paper.
Release the fear that captivates you. It's that uneasiness in knowing the pain that spills once I form these words into being readable and they sink into my heart and become truth.
Truth equals pain for me.
It's the fear that this truth might just **** me.
Is it possible to die of a broken heart, I often ask myself.
Battling this fear to write this novel is the one thing holding me back from healing.
Allowing my entire being to sink into it, and rage against the words as if I'm the flat of the ocean being ravished by the never ending waves.
Tossed and turned by the emotions that come with the process that forces you to heal.
It's the still, that resides between each word written, that quiet space that leaves me restless.
Calm the infuriation, unclench your teeth and let the words be written into reality.
My need to burst into a blood pumping release that lightens my heart from this heaviness is enough to shake the floor of the ocean.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC
Sometimes Dreams die..
Sometimes the fantasies that you create in your mind go to war with reality. And reality wins.
Sometimes the dreams that are fabricated in your thoughts are really just safe, soft places to escape to and can never be made to be tangible.
Sometimes there are forces that halt these selfish desires to hold you out for far more than you imagined.
Sometimes life does you favors, when you think it's sabotaging your dreams and you wake up to realize..that it was all destiny.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 3:43 AM UTC
Shattered souls.
Shattered hearts.
Prayers that sunk into the earth, when I uttered those words on my knees at dusk.
Endless hours...of begging and pleading with fate.
Fate: 1. a prophetic declaration of what must be.
Death: 1. extinction; destruction: It will mean the death of our hopes.
Attempting to resurrect the shambles of the outcome of what was meant to crumble.
Waking up stronger than the day before, every time the sun rises and allowing life to entrench my soul and flourish.
Content with the past buried, never feeling the need to breathe hope into it.
Salving the wounds into beautiful memories and speaking life into what lies ahead.
We didn't lose each other, we gave up.
Mostly out of selfishness, anger the vein that pumped the rage into explosion.
Laying the crippling words to rest and forgiving all that is attached to it.
Freedom, the joy of letting go...has taken ages off of my already old soul.
Goodbye.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
I am a writer.
One who can close myself away into a small dimly lit space and gush life onto an insubstantial substance of fibrous material..in hopes that once finished..reads of something that makes sense and releases a tad of this confined fury..that whirls in my ever churning mind.
I am a Dreamer.
A human born into disparaging circumstances, that grasped for anything tangible, as early as I can possibly recollect. With a never ending desire to find truth and love beyond the abuse that I endured throughout all of my childhood..Determined to view life..clear of the filters embedded over my eyes, attempting to force my mind to function through the inherited dysfunction.
I am a Lover.
Believing in a Love so genuine, that it literally heals all human afflictions .
Investing in a hope in all things soulful and lucid.
Craving to Love free of the bounds thought fathomable, truly devoting to other souls..the most valuable asset - Time - and desirous to Lead with Love in every moment.
I am a Writer.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
What does it mean to love "scarred". I thought as I sat there running my fingers across the keys of the black keyboard, the letters in white standing still and unmovable atop the glossy charcoal plastic.
Entering data onto the screen..thinking about the facts and details listed into my story.
My mind wandered from the task at hand..I pictured myself...calm in demeanor...raging inside to unleash the fury, fervor and forgiveness of the untold story boiling within.
Tucked away in shades of tall lustrous trees, behind the walls of a small charmingly cozy cabin, emptying the madness of words to create- My Story-in ink.
The one reason I've been given breath and sensation to envision beyond the factitious boundaries that surround these hands and feet.
Loving despite the afflictions that seemingly forever tore at my heart, is quite possibly one of the greatest types of Love.
Constructing within me the ability to Hopefully...Master compassion.
Loving scarred. Loving despite pain, loving with wreckage still in the heart, loving with the stains of tears etched in the skin, loving having the knowledge of love and loss.
Perhaps..this is the best form of Love.
Rather than wishing these away, soaking them in..allowing the forming of the heart to take place.
Love, whether blemished, disfigured or flawed..
is the one source of human capability to fully heal.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC