Where no skeletons are buried
And all memories unborn
Where no secrets are hidden
And there's no reason for scorn
Where all faces are strange
And all glances meaningless
Where no one knows my name
And freedom is infinite...
Take me to that place
Too many losses to take it all in,
Motivated forgetting became a remedy,
But every now & again
The pain is dredged up,
Subconsciously.
Then dreams become reminders
That my grief is incomplete.
So tonight I'll stop deferring
The experience of pain.
I'll cycle through all of them:
Denial, anger, bargaining,
Depression, & acceptance.
I'll willing feel what's necessary.
I'll purposely search for the lessons.
Before sun rise,
I'll have the final cry
Before a peaceful sleep.
Mourning before morning
Can be a beautiful thing.
I quietly adored them.
Your arms, so big, so strong,
For me, they embodied home.
In them I felt cherished and safe.
I loved how you held me
In the most perfect way...
A comforting amount of tightness
With a gentle touch of fragility.
Confirming my inner goddess,
You held me with sacrosanctity.
I was willingly subdued by them.
They became my favorite place,
Evoking something in me,
An inexplicable, beautiful feeling.
Enraptured in your arms;
I believed they brought healing,
And I had to touch them
As if they were the hem of Jesus' cloak.
I remember the night I watched the enchantment flee;
Your hands were steadfast around my throat.
In that moment, I felt
Inadequate in my femininity,
Helpless and weak.
Their strength betrayed me.
They shifted from affection to enmity,
And violence seized the arms
That I once held in high esteem.
May 2017 show kindness to you.
May laughter abound in your life.
May your worries lessen.
May happiness fill your heart.
May love overflow in and through you.
May this be one of your best, most productive, happiest, most growth-filled years!
Happy New Year!
With love & sincerity,
LeKechia Lyshell
As of today, my mother is 43 years old which is, in my view, still young. Each year on her birthday I write something sappy and share it across my various social media accounts. This year will be no different.
As I have shared in the past, my mother became pregnant at the age of sixteen; she gave birth to me when she was seventeen. By her twenty-second birthday, she was the single mother of a five year old girl, two year old boy, and an infant baby boy. Today, twenty-one years later, she has been a mother for more than half of her life. Even in her youth, however, she possessed a wisdom that has been invaluable to my brothers and I. She built a solid foundation for us through her strengths; she showed us perseverance through her triumphs, and she taught us about resilience, humility, and humanity through her trials. My mother is not perfect, but she is a damn good mother.
As a teenager, I remember the honest, open conversations she had with me about sex, my body, and my value. I remember her taking me to the gynecologist when she found out I lost my virginity. (I also remember thinking "this lady is absolutely crazy!" as she and the gynecologist spoke throughout the visit. Lol!) I remember her teaching me the importance of yearly PAP smears, being tested, condoms, birth control, and my overall health. I also remember her telling me that my body is the "temple of God" and sharing the emotional and physical benefits of abstinence.
The experience is such an accurate portrayal of our relationship. Irrespective of how big, small, good, bad, or ugly an issue is, I can always take it to her. I may not apply or like the advice she offers, but I can count on her to give me honest, good counsel. We get a good laugh whenever we remember the day I was so frustrated with her sound wisdom that I called her response a "Joel Osteen answer."
My mother is my sister, friend, and greatest ally. She is a kind person. Her heart is good. She's funny. She's openly human. She is long-suffering, and I admire her for all that she is.
I remember sitting in my bedroom's closet, in tears, talking to her on the phone a few years back, and she said something I'll never forget. "Baby, I understand, not because you're my daughter, but as a woman, I understand." I am so appreciative of my understanding mother.
So to the woman who birthed me, raised me, celebrates with me, prays for me, cheers me on, encourages me:
To my lifelong love:
Happiest of Birthdays! I hope all the love you've given my brothers and I returns to you tenfold. May your best years lie ahead.
Too much love to prevent forgiveness.
Too much hurt to allow forgetting.
Though I've had my share of obstacles,
You're the most challenging yet.
My heart won't let me get over you.
The memories won't let me move pass.
There is no way around you.
You're a roadblock in my path,
Stubborn and immovable
In the annoying way that you are.
Keen to my weaknesses;
Knowing I wouldn't get too far
Before reaching for you once more.
And you, strong and tired,
Quietly celebrated another win
Over my heart and body
Which this time I voluntarily surrendered.
I remember times when that was not the case;
When my protesting fell on deaf ears;
When you didn't consider the fear
Evident on my tear-stained face.
Although it was I in need of consolation,
The following morning, inevitably,
I was comforting you.
Wiping tears from your eyes,
Showering affection and love,
Reminding you of your goodness,
And reassuring you
That come hell or high water,
Nothing could separate us.
Lacking full range of motion in my neck,
I managed to turn your countenance.
My head throbbing with pain,
And I alleviated your worries.
Body sore, mentally exhausted, I
In love and in madness,
Found a way to care for you
As if, of the two of us,
You were the only one that mattered.
We were equally surprised
When I finally had enough;
When the apologies proved insufficient;
When my loyalty shifted;
When I became the victor.
I was both saddened and disappointed
That I couldn't celebrate for long.
Even in this new found bravery,
Love for you consistently accosted me,
And I'm wondering if you're okay.
I find myself wandering
Through the previous stage.
It feels like I'm betraying myself
Because my heart won't let me get over you,
And the memories won't let me move pass.
There is no way around you.
You're a roadblock in my path,
Stubborn and immovable
In the infuriating way that you are.