Dear Darling Girl

Here are words I wish someone had said to
me when I was transitioning from child to
woman; here are a few words as you
transition; as you grow; as you explore the
world and create your own; as you set
standards, as you break glass ceilings; as
you grace the world with your gorgeous
hearts and your passionate spirit

To my darling girl,

I hope you woke up today with confidence
knowing that you are special, you are
amazing and this next lag of the journey is
going to be ok. Be confident, love yourself
enough to let it overflow and love others
just as much. Be patient with yourself, be
kind with yourself. You will stumble, that’s
inevitable, for when you are learning,
progressing, you must have a few setbacks
to test your level of perseverance, and give
you the spirit of endurance. So go ahead,
persevere. You are naturally inclined to be
victorious, so be victorious. You are
beautiful. To the heavens you are so
beautiful. Confidence is beautiful.
Intelligence is beautiful. Kindness is
beautiful. Optimism is beautiful.
Encouraging others is beautiful. Helping
people is beautiful. You, you my darling are
a manifestation of many wonderful
qualities that make you beautiful. Never
doubt that. You were created by God to
inspire, to grace this earth with the
goodness that is in you, to change this
world and move it with the kind of strength
and power that ONLY YOU possess- use it!
I hope you understand the importance of
good friendship. I hope good company is
yours- company that discusses positive
things, progress and tells you the truth.
Honesty is rare, be honest. Be loyal in your
circle of friends, and be loyal to your
principles. Be consistent in the little deeds
that enable your dreams. Forgive. Be good. If they don’t do good back, it is their loss, not yours. Forgive, I say again. How people react to your genuine kindness is a show of
their character, not yours. You do you. You
will hurt, people will hurt you and you will
hurt people. Be prepared to say sorry, and
be prepared to listen. And darling, dream.
Dream big and wide, and work smart and
work hard. You reap as much as you sow,
so sow wisely and sow good seeds. Be
prepared to be wrong. Be prepared to fail
and in all of this? Be prepared to learn.
Learn in the bus, on the street, in the
classroom, in conversations– be prepared
to learn in every single thing you
experience. Be prepared for criticism and
be prepared to be challenged. Know that
you will not win the favour of everyone,
and remain true and honest, still. Remain
calm, remain passionate. Be loud when you
see the need and approach softly when
necessary. Loud is not always right and soft
is not a show of weakness. Master this.
Laugh. Laugh that loud, earth shaking,
annoying laugh and as life tests you, take a
deep breath. Hold. And release- we don’t
control everything.

To my darling girl,

My amazing sister, daughter, friend, niece,
aunt; my crazy packet of sunshine and
spoonful of sugar; my lightning bolt and
thunder skies, my passionate red and soft,
pillowy green you are millenniums of
power packed into that gorgeous melanin
screaming to wake up and take on this
generation; you are truckloads of light and
skylines of fire, your is a spirit that this
world now requires. As they sit here in high
chairs and in bus seats and enquire about
the thing you bring to this table, you must
respond with strength and with divine
confidence; you must respond with a trip
down history and their own memories of
how you have been unstoppable before
and today you turn it up a notch. You are
inspiration to artists in every form of art
there is; you are born with a heart capable
of loving and caring and taking on every
mountain of challenge; you are born victorious and maker of the victorious. You
are born powerful. You are born with the
ability to harness strength and yet be the
soft place for very broken, bleeding,
wounded, hurt human being. When they
ask you what do you bring here? You say I
bring forth a force that grounds you and
still enable you to rise. I am your gravity
and still I am the magic that keeps you
afloat; you say I am the ocean engulfing all
your thoughts and all your art; I am the
sun, the rain, the lightning, the thunder; I
am the soil of the earth and water in the
stream; I am mountain mist and the ocean
breeze; I am the reason cyclones and great vessels are referred to as “her”. I bring to this table, the table and the meal, and the
drink. I bring to this table a menu that is
exotic yet nutritious. I am the passionate
one. The strong one. And even as my tears
burn my cheeks and rip my throat apart I
turn up. I show up and go tooth and nail
until I am done. My loss is a win because
every loss is a genuine reason to stand up,
get better, and a much needed vitamin for
me to stay delivering. What do I bring
here? Ask them, and respond with fire in
your eyes and earth in your soul: I bring
here, me. In all my differences, in all my
said weaknesses, in all my wins and losses-
I bring me.

Divinity wrote you into my story

because your dream is incomplete without

me, and mine, without you.

How about you see beyond the length of
my hair and the length of my skirt; see
beyond the quality of the cup of tea I stir
and look into the quality of my education,
my ideas and my need for security and
healthcare? How about we talk about this
great journey and the need for doors in all
these high walls? How about we celebrate
how far we have come and keep going until
our normal is fair?How about we raise
each other and our girls to be
unstoppable? How about we let girls be
born unscripted and let them write their
own stories, will you dare?

It’s A Friday Night

do you ignore the pain you caused?

Or do you really want to apologize and let this go?

do you understand the flaws in the thing you ask of me?

Or do you sincerely mean all that you say?

You wounded me. Knife, bullets, fire, acid burns, and hits to the chest, one after another. You climbed into my heart, dove to the deepest trenches that were closed off, and then inflicted pain all in one shake. You left me to wither and to find healing in the blinding pain, the deafening darkness. I tore myself to shred trying to patch the bits of my heart that were bleeding out. It felt like lava. It burned. And I wondered how something that makes me, me, could burn me. But it was you. You burned me.

So do you really care for my feelings? Or are we going to solve your issues at the cost of my feelings; my wounds; my healing?

-yr

As I Wander, I Wonder

“I wonder if I have made you feel a little more than what you’re used to. Or well, even a little less, because that’s more than the usual, yes? I wonder if you ever sighed at the sight of me, I wonder if your heart tripped and sounded like scratched vinyl; I wonder if my smile ever cheered you up, I wonder if my lame jokes ever made you laugh; I wonder if I ever made you feel better on days you thought otherwise. I wonder if I’ve made a difference in the few years I have lived, I wonder if I’ll do so, in the next decade and more. I wonder if I make you feel weak in the knees, or make you smile like an idiot when you hear my name. I wonder if my voice sounds like divine choirs to your ears and I just wonder if I have touched a life or two in my time here. I would rather go knowing I touched half a soul, than to go down knowing my existence was a mere capsule with no content. I can’t heal you, but I’d like to love you. I wonder if I can even do that.

Show M E

Show me where she burned you.
Show me where she stabbed you.
Show me where she cut you.
Show me where…

Show me where it hurts.
Show me the scars,
The wounds still open
And the grazed heart you keep.

Show me if I am welcome.
Show me how damaged you are.
And then go ahead
And show me your flaws.

Show me the parts of you that you are proud of.
Show me your favourite memories.
Show me your dreams.
Show me the people you love.

Show me what makes your heart beat faster.
Show me your bare skin and your map of scars,
Show me your heart you keep in a glass jar;
Show me your soul and its burnt out stars.

Show me your naked laugh-
Unfiltered, unapologetic, unclothed and loud.
Show me the dark;
The places you’ve created, far.

Show me your hands
And teach them to hold mine.
Show me your eyes,
Unveiled from the need to be strong.

Show me if you wish
If I am worthy of the story you have written
Show me the bits that you fear
Show me, let me hear.

Lie to me

They lie to you and call you a pretty little girl.
They lie to you about your freedom.
Oh, but freedom I hear, is a state of mind.
Sad, it is a state of mind I cannot afford.

They hold you hostage by the needs they provide and point the gun of fear in your eye.
I’m neither friend, nor foe, I am but a great big show.
I am not afraid, nor am I unafraid, I just want to go.

I refuse freedom, even after they’d open the cage;
even though we all know, that cage door will never be released off its hinges.
I feel like the dark is calling me louder and louder and louder and its at its loudest​ today.
I just want to go.

In the dark is where they dance the best; the dark gives the best caress.

I feel like the dark has reached out to me, and I want to hold onto it too. 

Would you?

I’d like to love you, but you wouldn’t know.  A part of me feels, I already do. Its the littlest things that get me, yes, because of that, I hate you too.

Its your humour, your disarming stare; its your intuitive protective flare. I’d like to have you know me, and let me unravel: will you solemnly swear to not judge or compare?

I’d like nothing but to be the air in your lungs, the smile that you wear, but my oh my, do my dreams take me beyond the accepted affair.

From a distance I see, I feel and I’d like more than this stare, but gaaaaah you make me feel these things, these beautifully things which are not there.

I dare me, I do! To speak to you, to be the fool, but my mind is locked on reasoning , on believing I’m nothing but a game at the fair.

You look at me, you do, but that’s it, is that look to me, never at me, not even thru me, if I was a wall, I’m not even worth it.

But I’d love to love you, if you’d just…

Her Pretty Eyes

They think that her pretty eyes
and her pretty face are testament to a pretty life.
None of that, true.

Beyond those dark brown eyes are stories of pain,
of loss,
of hatred,
of hardship,
of the need for courage.

Beyond that pretty face are the nastiest of remarks heard,
the brutality of clenched fists
and force filled objects.

Beyond that pretty face,
are the unpretty stories,
the unseen tears,
the well put together brokenness.

She was an average girl,
with laughter that warmed your soul,
and humour that cracked you up,
but beneath the mask was a girl trapped
and gasping for air in every giggle.

She was a tower of strength
and a source of courage,
the kind that she needed;
the kind she desperately craved.

She hoped that in making them all feel okay,
that she would find her peace,
her calm,
and her healing.

She hoped that one day,
one fine day,
her pretty eyes and pretty face
will be testament to the pretty life she lived.