Calling Me

Almost a year ago now, on January 31, while conducting research for my work-in-progress, I came across a poem by Georgia Douglas Johnson entitled, "Calling Dreams." I posted it along with the photo at the bottom of this post to my Facebook and Google+ pages, however, I didn't post it to my blog. To post the poem and photo on my blog without an introduction seemed an inadequate expression of what I was feeling. Although my social networks are me and are true to my being, my blog is an actual extension of me. There is no room for pretense; even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Here you get all of me: the strength, wisdom, vulnerabilities, insecurities, failures, and successes. So to have posted it would have been like expecting others to interpret my emotions for me instead of processing and working through them.  

For much of my life, I've imprisoned myself in a box, cognizant of my abilities, but afraid, no, terrified of myself. I knew once I unleashed my gifts, there would be no going back. Once More erupted from the bowels of my existence in 2015, the box ceased to exist. 

Words are guides and the right words strung together are guideposts. 

"[...] I was to realize that my discomfort was due to the fact that I was operating far, too far, beneath my level; or in other words, I had more to give than was being demanded and I was being weighed down by the residue. (James Baldwin, Just Above My Head, 389)

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that "Calling Dreams" still lingers within my being close to 12 months later.  As I prepare to transition into a new season in my life, I call myself to walk worthy in the life of which I was purposed. 

I leave you all with "Calling Dreams" along with the perfect picture, in my opinion, for this poem.

"Calling Dreams"

The right to make my dreams come true

I ask, nay, demand of life,

Nor shall fate's deadly contraband

Impede my steps, nor countermand.

Too long my heart against the ground

Has beat the dusty years around,

And now, at length, I rise, I wake!

And stride into the morning break!

-Georgia Douglas Johnson, 1922

My Goodbye—A Call to Action

Today, we laid to rest Nizzear Rodriguez, a young life gone too soon. A life taken by individuals not much older than his own. Upon watching the funeral procession drive away from the church to the burial site, I shift from consciously knowing that Nizzear is no longer here to acceptance and then belief. Today, 6 September 2014, Nizzear's death is real to me. Though his death didn't garner national headlines as Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Jonathan Ferrell, or Trayvon Martin, it did wake up our sleeping little town and for that I am forever grateful. An act of senseless violence took him from his family, friends, teachers, coaches, those whose lives he touched, those lives he had yet to touch, and all those that loved him. 

Review: Almost Home by Joan Bauer

Joan Bauer. New York: Viking, 2012. 264 pp.
Rating: Striking

Being a kid is tough. There's no need to add parent/child role reversals to adolescence. Sometimes, however, it is inevitable. No one knows this more than Sugar Mae Cole.

Sugar lives with her flighty mother, Reba, who aspires to be a grand Southern Belle. Her father, Mr. Leeland, as Sugar refers to him, is an absent parental figure constantly scouring the country seeking his next big win. In her father's stead, grandfather King Cole, showers Sugar with love, support, and lots of sage advice chocked full of life lessons.

Life is color. Sugar Mae Cole, greeting card writer extraordinaire, artfully illustrates that it's whatever color you choose to paint it. Early

Heart

There was one embodying strength and valor
whose doubts of usefulness constantly sniped at his mind
unwilling to release its hold.
For see wolves stole his sight, yet
beyond the reaches of these carnivorous animals
laid his unwavering faith.
The light of his heart untouched guided the way.
Never alone, the time drew near
Sacrifice unlocked the purpose, vision made plain the plan.
Plagued, raked, and ravished at the hands of many
One stayed firmed dispatching messengers.
“Merlin, the moment’s at hand—
 Go forth my child, alight the path.”


*My poem submitted for the Merlin Spiral Contest.

Enlightenment

Bold to behold, strong as an ox
when you walk the world stops
you are the very essence of masculinity.
Do you know, do you know
     the power you possess?
Look and you shall see,
Listen and you shall hear,
Close your eyes and you will feel,

Writing Affirmation

Trepidation—none

Pen to paper, fingers clack

Words flow, success looms