I don't know how it came to be
To have so many holes in me
But here I cry
By and by
Bleeding from the heart
Where so many rivers start.

I cannot explain
This inexorable pain
As I cross this river Styx
Wondering how I'd come to this
But here I am
****** and Dammed
Crying cold tears
Wondering what fate nears.

I remain here with the ferryman
Wondering how I was ever a merry man.
Crying my tears of blood
Just as any man would.
Touched so high in grace
****** for all my race.
So burning is this torment
Yet cold, silent, and dormant.

But I am no betrayer.         No, Not yet
No sin increases my fare

Charon does not bring me to that gate
But rather back home to finish my fate.
For I am not dead
And it is not living that I dread.
I have only been shown this torture
So I may avoid it in future.
I have no place in that weeping forest
Just as Dante, I was but a tourist.
But so my sorrow deep and cold
Should not permeate into my old
But rather it shall remain
a past pain.

O I shall remember
these such foul members
But it is that which makes me
Not breaks me.
These are that which become me
For I shall not succumb to these.
And so these folds shall make me
stronger
Till I feels these holes,
These rivers in my heart,
These tears of blood,
This passing of the laurel,
These faults within my ore,
No longer.

Take me by the hand,
see me through your placid garden.
Walk with me, St. Mary's.

March me in time to your rhythm;
let me wield the mallet that beats your drum.
Sing to me, St. Mary's.

String my sole into the primordial web
within the black walnut tree.
Lay with me, St. Mary's.

Close my eyes and tilt me back;
dip me into the murky pond.
Baptize me, St. Mary's.

Take me down to the fiery shoreline;
we'll linger beneath the countenance of the rugged cross.
Crucify me, St. Mary's.

Sit me by your mystic grave,
cast a silent earthy veil over me.
Bury me, St. Mary's.

Chip me from the rock, free me of these shackles,
rocket me into the heavens.

Liberate me, St. Mary's.

As I sit here on this cold winter's morn
I ponder my life and what is now in store
Here on the day of reckoning before
The sun has yet to crest over the eastern sky
The moon still clings fighting to give one last childlike lullaby
Am I like the moon, fighting to stay
Not yet wanting to be chased away by the brazened sun.
The moon soft, comforting, familiar, like my past
The sun, harsh, brazen, unknown, sharp, new as my future can be
Shall I stay with my moon and continue with my soft light
or shall I rise in the eastern sky like the sun and shine with a boldness of things to come.
A scary new adventure.
A choice I must make, for the sky is changing from grey to pink.
It is time, the past I cut my strings.
No longer a woman-child, matriarch let me be.
My past, I let it go to float upon this winter's breeze.
Come upon me now sun, it is you and I, a new life for us to write....

I am compelled to lay it all out
***** laundry bleached, sun dried
Phased moon
Waxing, waning, new, full
A constant reminder of our will to change
Inherent ability to shine as much light
Or cast as much shadow
On our faults as we choose
Enter police interrogation lamp
I...am selfish
I lie
I steal
I supplement dealing with emotions with chemical relief
Often responsibilities lie unfulfilled
Compliments make me uncomfortable
I need to learn to let go
I look at myself too long in the mirror
I enjoy *** to the point that it has made my partners less confident
I procrastinate
My heart will always ache for someone I cannot have
I allow others to take advantage of me
A short list in comparison for all that I have to atone for
Yet I remind myself every day
I am only human
As are you

I have been trampled upon
Yet here I stand.
Shoved and kicked down
Yet I've risen by God's hand.
I have been ridiculed, mocked and teased
For a second did you think it would phase me?
Oh please.

I am the epitome of feminine power
A lady of increasing inner strength by the hour.
I am an impenetrable spirit,
Soaring higher beyond dimension, space and time limit.
I am an infectious disease called happiness
A lady who knows her worth
And won't take anything less.

I am worthy
I am deserving
I am excellence
I am God-serving.

I am an African Woman:
A hand-crafted masterpiece
A conqueror of challenges and hardships
A lady of spiritual wealth and infinite being.

I am beauty personified.
An image of immortal greatness.

Harsh words of cruelty merely graze my surface
Label me a worthless piece of unwanted coal
And watch as I am put under pressure
And manifest into a bright diamond of immeasurable worth.
Unbreakable.

I am power
I am strength
I am an African Woman.

Now thou hast loved me one whole day,
Tomorrow when thou leav’st, what wilt thou say?
Wilt thou then antedate some new made vow?
      Or say that now
We are not just those persons, which we were?
Or, that oaths made in reverential fear
Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear?
Or, as true deaths, true marriages untie,
So lovers’ contracts, images of those,
Bind but till sleep, death’s image, them unloose?
      Or, your own end to justify,
For having purposed change, and falsehood, you
Can have no way but falsehood to be true?
Vain lunatic, against these ’scapes I could
      Dispute, and conquer, if I would,
      Which I abstain to do,
For by tomorrow, I may think so too.

"I'll take a bullet for you, just not from you."