See the woman.
See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was
when it enflamed many a man.
See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.
See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
for the one she could not save.
See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,
See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.
See the breadth of her breasts,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.
See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.
See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.
See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –
see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!
See her face in your mirror.
See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
when you have lived through all that has been
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
when you become,
when you come
you will see yourself in all things,
and your journey, will see you back
*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)
When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
The rib of Adam,yet there wouldn't be you or I, without Eve,
Mothers, the fertilizer of the Earth,
The carrier of the torch of life,
The gate way to the next generation,
The real strength behind mankind,
Like the statue of Liberty,you look over your off springs,
Never resting, always caring,for you I say this prayer...
Almighty,give our mothers the strength to endure,
Give them vision, to teach the next generation to believe in themselves,
So they will grow with the intention of making the world,
a better place, for themselves and their off springs,
Touch the womb of those in pregnancy,
And let the next generation be kids ,
That will make their mothers proud.....Amen..
I rushed into the world a bit too fast.
I was the first and only child my mother bore,
so this was big news for her.
I was not big, got room in a hand.
A loving hand that gave me confidence, strength
Confidence, strength and love only a mother can give.
I was little and weak, but I fought hard.
I was able to cling to life and grow me big.
But this is thanks to you my mom that gave me
confidence, strength and love.
Dedicated to my mom
written 28th oct 2012
You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us
an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace
The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen
hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived
For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd
We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us
having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us
It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart
Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart
God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start
we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around
But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around
just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us
We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us,
although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never
You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever...
the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild....
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
God bless little angels brought unto me,
Watch over them beneath heavens grace.
My first of seven blessings most precious gift,
Treasures hearts keepsakes.
Number one the oldest, my rocker baby,
Dancing away with musics sweet lullaby.
The lyrical light of brilliance’s, a shinning note,
That strums across grandma's heart strings.
The second child is a testament to patience,
No instructions came with this wonder
Or warning labels tattooed upon her backside.
But she has the eyes of an angel and lord knows,
She try's my beliefs but I'll never give up the fight .
I love my problem child just the same.
The third times the charms, she is that for sure,
With brown eyes and a kewpie doll with dark curls.
Our grand daughter bubbles, whom can light up the
Darkest moment with just a simple smile.
The fourth grace is he, full of strength and daring,
A future NFL first draft pick this is my little RJ,
Patton had his tank and believe you me, Me maw
Diamonds are the hardest stones known to man,
But this boy sparkles with a shine more valuable,
Fifth in line is wisdom and charm, explorations
With curiosities wondering eye, but ahead of
The pack in any game of life.
My youngest grand son Issac his name means,
Laughter and joy and in this it is so true.
Tiny but mighty is my little Bella,
With dark raven hair, she has her fathers eyes,
And mommy's brave spirit.
She'll take on the world someday.
And win by all hands clapping her on,
Me Maw's future Mrs. America.
Seven was born on grandma's birthday,
A special gift given unto me is my darling,
Who knows what the future will hold for thee,
But seven has always been my lucky number,
So sky's the limit with this the youngest blessing,
In my life.
1. The blessings gift is music.
2. The second blessings gift mischief and curiosity.
3. The third blessings gift beauty's sweet smile
4. The four blessings gift strength and endurance.
5. The fifth blessings gift wisdom and charm.
6. The sixth blessings gift is a brave spirit.
7. The seventh blessings gift is lucks true fortune.
And when you add up all my many blessing,
What does a grandmother receive a full heart,
Hugs and kisses at bedtime.
Good night my little angels and sleep tight.
I'll re-sight my many blessings in my prayers,
Tonight as I lay myself asleep and dream of thee.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit
We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you
You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love
If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.
I do not know?
mama how do i tell you its bad again
how the voices are telling me its okay to hurt
they want me to fall
to fall from the top of buildings
and not get up
but don't worry mama
i plan to shut them up
mama how do i explain how the pain has returned
all you wanted was me to be better
i tried and tried and tried and tried
but in the end, the crazy won
they drive me crazy to no end
i want to make it stop
but don't worry mama
i have a plan
mama i cant tell you how it feels
to be sunken to the depths of earth
angels are soaring above me
but their happy gazes hurt
i need this incessant chatter to go
to hurt me, to hate me
it all feels so real
but don't worry mama
it wont soon
mama i can see the look in your eyes
it hurts me too that this is goodbye
cant you see this is the only way
for the voices to vanish but my body stay
goodbye and farewell
ill miss you so much
but don't cry mama
ill be better now
It's been nine years, I have counted the tears-
they have made trails of guilt
worried into my heart
then filled with loneliness and bitter despair
but by your grace I have been shown...
For the first time, in these nine years, I have not wept
nor held a vigil to honor our grief
though the loss still burns, this time it is transformed
Peace from your love still reaches through death
and through your eternal love I am reborn
It is Good Friday.
When God took your spirit home
and left me dying to know,
how to love him for his sacrifice
when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?
Through your love I was born, and in your arms I grew
and it has been your love the kept me whole
that taught me how to be reborn
for even though your body has gone
your words lost in the wind and breath no more
The essence of grace and strength you lived
- it grows still in your daughter soul
My being and existence came from your womb
my heart and mind shaped by your enlightenment
I have lived a life you gave me and for once
I live it in pride to honor your sacrifice
your words giving me the guidance I'd lost nine years ago.
Alas, I've come to know, that as you died
and went home with our Lord, you saved me from my death
not in your dying, my grief and love can attest,
but in your living strength and loving example
you showed me how to live a life
open to our Father's gift
We knew it would not wait, but the parting was too fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
what of my soul will rise with his?"
And now sitting Easter morning,
holding my sons candy-filled basket,
I realized Three days passed.
He took you home Friday morn, but left me love,
that eternal love that never dies
whose comfort is unending
I honor your love by giving it to my children
and Easter morning I felt your hug, your kiss, and knew
you have never left me
Though God took you home Mom
I know you have never left me
for as our Savior died and rose
you too still live in my heart,
showing me proof our Father's blessings
because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am strong enough to give this pain up
to honor his sacrifice and transcend,
to be humbled by the grace and mercy
that could forgive such lost lambs as I