Friday, November 12, 2010

a writing

There has been so much death to my life. Too much to comprehend. Loss knocks around within the walls of my heart leaving a searing emptiness to My Me. Shaken to my core by posers who mockingly toss the word "friend" upon my face. My pain grimaces as it slips, slides and tumbles down the terrain of my being. Leaving scars and slices of intimidation. The end of its journey sees it languishing upon the earth. Forming a laughing pattern of betrayal. Pilfering my everything into a state of insecurity and barrenness.

Indeed I had arrived at Ms. Ithaka and found her poor. But Cavafy* was correct. She had no intention of fooling my soul. You see, Wisdom is Ms. Ithaka's rightful name, and she remains my greatest teacher.

She blew pearls into my eyes until I acknowledged the scintillating shadow cast by my lack. I watched its dark glimmer dance beautifully in delightful irony. Holding court with previously buried secrets now twirling in the balm of restoration. I squinted closely, beholding the beginning outline of a smile. Here, I paused for thought. I watched as the sky travailed out a beam called perception. The veil ripped gently downside the middle revealing the precipice of a simple truth: I wildly exist. And powerfully so.

See my poetic:

she cannot forget
her beautifully rich nature, placed in her
by the divine kiss of love
painting her ethos and culture
upon the traverse of the world's
open field. her true destiny
all notions of freedom
emblazoned and ingrained
upon her hands.
the blood of her heart
writing out its roadmap
of breaking forth for
the generations yet to come
yes, she remembers
she will always remember
and every mountain will be leveled
for she, the weary
and the rugged places made plain
for her, the weak
the recompense of justice

Copyright 2010 All Rights reserved. From the published book: "Nothing Cool About Ten" by Regina Y. Evans

*For reference to the poem Ithaka, by Cavafy go to this link to read it in its entirety:

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