Month: October 2018

Made of Love

trE
heartscar
At such an odd angle, I realized that I have a scar that is somewhat shaped like a heart. If only you guys could have seen me trying to tilt my head, fidget with my wrist, and maneuver the phone to get what I think is the best shot I can get of this thing. LOL. Maybe you can see it too, maybe not. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

wandering eyes shift toward
a scarred wrist.
from years ago, fate
was sealed.
I think to myself,
“how did love end up here?”
I tilt my head…
I flex my wrist…
I find myself searching for
a connection when the connection
is already there.

slowly, I guide my hand
into the light,
lean into its luminance
and nod in approval.
if this is not significant,
if this holds no mark of welcome space,
if this is not proof that
I was made to love,
then I do not know what is — or
what will be.

I try to capture its shape.
I share it with loved ones,
they see it. and they don’t.
and I find myself smiling
at something so odd yet
a mystery too.
my body’s home to this flaw
and I do not recall the origin.

but, it is here.
as it sometimes appears on buttered toast,
as traveling clouds, and
in crumpled pieces of paper cut,
folded, opened, closed, and re-opened again.
my reminder, that if there is
only one thing I assume to be
my purpose in life —
and will always be,
it is to love.

Because I need to market my work a bit better, I have logged onto Instagram. If you so choose, follow me here.

I Want My Mom

trE
Picture of Hamoudi spreading like wildfire.

The following story that’s being shared here is that of a Middle Eastern 14-year-old effeminate boy who was viciously murdered by a heartless adult based on his appearance. I cannot… My heart breaks over and over reading about instances like this all over the world. Hate is too damn real and it needs to be extinguished. When you can put it in your mind to murder someone based on their appearance or any differences from you simply because you do not like those differences or appearances, you have no heart. YOU HAVE NO SOUL!

Hamoudi’s last words were, “I want my Mom.” Authoritative officials are not doing anything, conducting an investigation into this child’s senseless murder is on their back burner. Beliefs, patriarchy, old ways and traditions are their focus points, not the lives of human beings and the basic need for respect and acceptance. 

A young boy died because a man thought that he was too effeminate to deserve to live. The man stabbed him repeatedly in the gut, and then taunted him while he bled to death.

I want to honor his memory and help infuse his short life with meaning, but I want to think about people closer to home too.

I write a lot about LGBTQ equality. I write a lot about violence committed in the US against LGBTQ people. I write a lot about how violence rates have been rising dramatically over the past two years — ever since Trump came to power.

I’ve been working hard to promote awareness and to educate people. Some of the responses I’ve received from fellow Americans are unspeakable. I’ve been told point blank (and repeatedly) that transgender women deserve to be raped in prison.

I’ve been told that murders of gay youth aren’t important. I’ve been told that rising rates of violence are funny. Fellow Americans have sent me animated gifs of cartoon characters laughing.

So please don’t anyone think I wrote this article to condemn violence in the Middle East in particular.

I Want My Mom by James Finn https://link.medium.com/2qhN5oa8lR

The link above will lead you directly to the full write-up about this travesty by James Finn, a fellow Medium Writer. James does not tire of fighting for equality and LGBTQ rights. Share this, please. If you believe that a person’s life means more than their sexuality, their beliefs, their appearance, and anything else that should not be a determining factor for hate and maliciousness, then please send your words out into the ether. 

There are many instances happening right now in the States that are putting many connected to, affiliated, and associated with the LGBTQ community in grave danger, and causing many more to commit suicide. 

THIS IS NOT LIFE!

Whatever happened to love? Where is it in these times? Why doesn’t it always show its head? Be love. Be open. Know that your ways are not the only ways. 

You are not judge, jury, and executioner. You never will be. 

“Go Tell It On The Mountain”

trE
mountaintop
Courtesy of Neil Rosentech via Unsplash

You pick. You poke. You prod. I have noticed the change in you and I am of sound mind. I am a whole spirit. I still have my good heart and I thought you had yours, but you are unveiling a side to you that I have never known. And then, we have never been what we are now. Open. Honest. We have always walked on eggshells, scared to reveal our true selves to each other. Yet, there was love.

Yet —

There Was

US.

I will admit, there are pieces of me I now feel should have remain caged, but then this bird would not sing. There would not be a tune to share and ears to hear it as it flows melodiously through the clouds. I am slowly moving forward. I am clearing a way for desperate dreams. I will not deny you the deepest parts of me if you will give me your word that you will keep them safe. And I do not think you will give me your word. I do not think you will trust yourself enough to understand what we went through. What I went through while being with you.

I do not need any more egocentric fools racing to bid on my sanity — how long will I have it? When will I break? I thought, because I want to believe in the good in you than evil, that you would fight to remain beautiful. And not the type of beauty that’s plastered on magazine covers or as subjects of famous paintings, but the beauty that comes from waking up next to someone who spent thirty seconds gently rubbing your forehead and whispering to you until your eyes opened. Or the beauty that comes from watching a toddler take his first steps, giggling at the momentous achievement.

I wanted your beauty to last so that when I looked at you, I would remember what made me love you.

But like all things that need sweeping and clearing, it did not. We did not. And it started long ago when I confessed to sleeping with a woman. I did not take the time to understand how the newness of the news shaped you. Changed you. Cut you open and split you at the seams. From that day, nothing was the same. There was no going back.

You ran after God, sure that if you caught him, the pain that you felt would dissipate. Prayerful that if you caught him, that I would not be who I am versus who I was. You thought that if you could attack God fiercely and dig deep enough to learn all there is to know of him, that I would change. And there would be another woman and another and then you again. Because you had a part of me that no one else could get.

The mountain in me sloped intensely and I knew one day, you would get tired of risking your life to reach the top. I was selfish then. I wanted what I wanted and could get it without much effort. That is the downside to being young, manipulative, and weak. We do not realize the damage done to others until the same begins to happen to us. Someone said they saw you happy, that you asked of me in a way that sounded more like you wondering if I was finally happy too, rather than truly wanting to know of me — of my life.

I was happy to hear that you settled again. That you are still preaching, leading a flock to fields of endless dreams. You are still chasing God. All the while oblivious to the fact that you had Him in you the whole time.

If I ever see you again, years from today, moons from tomorrow, I would tell you to climb the mountain once more and take special care this time.

She’ll probably let you reach the top.

I’ve got a seed in the ground
That he’s blessing
No more stressing.
I’ve got a seed in the ground
And it’s growing
Now it’s showing.

This is my season, for grace for favor.
This is my season to reap what I have sown.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium