The Promise of Tomorrow 

Today was a hard day. But that’s okay. I will survive and keep going because I have hope. 

The Promise of Tomorrow

Bukra, inshallah: 

Tomorrow when I wake,

I’ll have the expectation of joy.

Tomorrow when I wake,

A smile at my lips will toy.

Bukra, inshallah:

I will remember these things:

Someone said that I am amazing. 

I will remember these things:

Someone said that I am deserving.

Bukra, inshallah: 

When my foot hits the ground

I’ll rejoice in the weight it holds.

When my foot hits the ground 

I’ll strike a dance like 20 year olds. 

Bukra, inshallah:

I will remember that love exists.

I will remember holding my children tightly. 

I will remember how laughter feels. 

I will remember the promise of tomorrow. 

Xoxo,

Stef 

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Imma be me

You’re not my type

From the moment we met
I knew it wasn’t you
No way, not even on a bet
But what’s a good girl to do?

You see, the odd thing with me is
I’m not just what you see
Not just white & blue, but reds too
Not beige, or silly taupe, imma be me

Raised right, moral fiber strong
I know very well right from wrong

Wild streak? Not that brave
But my precious wants crave
For the challenge of your metal
I want every bite; I won’t settle

I don’t maim, kick, or ridicule
My heart bleeds … but imma be me

You’re my Mount Everest, baby
I gotta climb; hit that peak
Oh honey, I’ll be your lady
Come, give me what I seek

Be my right now, my today
But not tomorrow, okay?

You’re not him, I don’t think
You’re fire to this kindling
It shouldn’t be, there’s no link
Except this flame is not dwindling

You’re not my type
Never gonna be
But come kiss me
’cause imma be me

—————————–

Proffered without comment. *sigh*

-Stef

A Haiku for You

I have a cold. A stupid, mind-numbing, frustratingly incapacitating cold. I had some fun things planned this weekend. But in lieu of on-the-go, I stayed in and probably worked a little too hard Saturday, but convalesced like a champ most of today (Sunday), by watching White Christmas and football. My team lost, but Bing Crosby still got the girl. Thank heaven.

I need love & light on the regular these days. I’m not going to talk about the f!&ing election, but suffice to say that,for the next four years, love & light, hope & prayers, and warriors for all that is good and righteous, will be working overtime to keep our asses, our sanity, our morality & our constitution intact! Dammit! I feel a rant coming on so I’m preemptively going to veer back into the left lane & floor it ……

I’ve been doing that a lot in the last 12 days. Come to the edge of the pain, skirt the side and then veer off before it’s able to suck me in. The grief is real, but it’s not my grief. I’m so scared of all the fear; fear does terrible things.

…… veering left again, hitting the gas ……

I took the boys their dad’s tonight. I felt too sick to drive but my ex is not kind to me. (Side note: he hasn’t been in a very, very long time; will he ever recognize his culpability, do you think?) So I knew I’d have to suck it up and drive the 20 minutes to his house & back, regardless of my health. A friend called, concerned, said I needed a hug, and please don’t drive. A friend who has never loved me but who feels more compassion for me and his dogs and other soldiers and his mom than he feels for most anybody else in the world.

Side thought: Why is it, do you think, that I collect wounded men? My mother hen complex pushing out invisible tractor beams? Look HERE! A sucker for heartsick, hurt men HERE! I try to do what I can, because I try to love big, and sometimes I fall hard and I am then discarded, but sometimes, and more often, I’m able to recognize what is not for me and walk away. I don’t search for it. Honestly. I want kindness, compassion & understanding, and they usually have those things, but equally I want independence, responsibility, & ambition. I want it altogether, in one package, and then I want that person to also think I’m the f!&king bee’s knees.

Because sometimes I don’t know how to accept flattery, or help, or friendship without embarrassment, distrust and various protestations. I am learning. Keep trying.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I took the boys to their dad’s with a mix of relief & regret. Always both. Tonight more relief because I’m sick and it’s hard to be mom & patient concurrently. (Mom, I’m sorry you don’t feel well! Please get better! What’s for dinner?) I came home to my quiet home and watched a little of my comfort tv – shows so predictable they are soothing in their routine – and then I soaked in a bath with so many thoughts swirling around my head I got cold and pruny.

The net result, and the subject of this post (yes, I’m finally getting to it) is that I’m more able to process the world and all her quirky machinations when I allow my brain to unabashedly skinny-dip into the pool of creativity. I so commonly stick to pragmatics: that which can be researched, substantiated & proven is logical …… but logic never moved hearts. Logic doesn’t allow for emotional influences that are so important to human functionality. Therefore in order to function optimally I must allow creativity to flourish.

I’ve held my poetry for ransom. I’ve shut down my craft table. I built a wall around the comfort of pragmatics and I’ve stayed there. But over that wall I could see glimpses of fireworks & rainbows, a glow of light that changes colors and is enchanting me nearer.

I soaked in the bath tonight and I rebuilt a bridge. A small one. A footbridge. I started with a few haikus, and they are for you – because my love language is acts of service:

********************
1

Troubles carried far

Pinballing across vast oceans

Of thought in my mind

2

And when shall thou be

Mine; tis but a slip to know

But through wretched time

3

Suffer not, want none

Though times are treacherous

Compassion speaks most

****************
I actually wrote six, but I went deep and intimate with the other three and I think this is brave enough tonight.

Let us sleep now. I pray for compassion, unfettered love, and creativity in abundance for you. Let it flow; we need it now more than ever.

Xoxo,

Stef

P.S. If my two readers actually get through this rambling journal entry of a post then please raise your hand for a gold star. 🙂

Some days you’re the bug

I’m 40. I’m divorced. I’m a mother of two fantastic sons. I have a good job. I’m learning how to date. Those are the basics.

I once didn’t know if my life would ever grow beyond my small circle, the family and friends who care and stuck with me. It’s a small group, most who don’t live near me. Some of the people I love and miss the most aren’t in my life anymore. But that’s okay, I’m learning. Because my life is GROWING. And those people who once loved me and were my everyday don’t have to be a part of my future. At least not an active part. I’m trying to let that go.

So today I offer you two perspectives. A bad night and a wonderful night, and I’m so happy to have experienced both.

A Bad Night

Repose for a dream
Of sunlight and daffodils
Not a nightmare of loss, death,
and aching despair
Sleep there, where it died,
Driven by silence, it kills
Sleep there, the bed that you made,
It’s yours to bear

Gnashing against the sheet
Soaking wet, tears trickle in waves
She wants substance, she said
But you had it
You ignorant, feckless fool
You simpering, selfish
Worthless girl
Flagrant flaunting of your worth
Ego run amuck
Destined to fuck it up

File it away for a later day
Give it to God, they say

Give it to God
Give it to God
Give it to God
Give it to God
Give it to God
Give it to God

__________________
Give me my sin again

It’s sprung from despair
At my urgent breath
Tingly, crackling air
You; accept no less

The penultimate moment
Panting, arrive in the knick
Filling the air, happy hint
Dive in, sweet caress, a lick

Sweetness, a divine embrace
Coming home, my familiar place
Leave me not, your loving face
Within your hand I’m forever laced

Pull me tighter, oh sweet love
My head tucked up in your neck
Chuck my face up, reach above
Tenderness in your soft peck

It’s the sun after a gloomy dark
The crash of a wave upon the shore
Genius start of an artist’s first mark
Your lips, metal too, I demand more

Let us walk, take my hand
Wind down this hall, hands blended
To bed, to sin, within my den
Oh give me my sin again

My lover’s embrace is merely the start
It takes faith, love, and a willing heart

_______________

I wish you all the love your heart can hold. Even in loss there is love, and stripping down to the soul of exactly what you need to carry with you.

xoxo,

Stef

Feel it (Alive) 

A poem:

Lifted up the gun and fired the shot
Hit wild, ricocheted (in my head)
Turning, swirling, stomach in knots
Reaching blind, pulling, fall out of bed

Adam Duritiz is lonely; I know
The difference between lonely
And just being alone, not low
Feel it always, up & down, so me

Fallen on the floor, hard wood
Because that’s what you do
Feel it, the pain hurts, so rude
Are these nightmares true?

Crawl to the window, low moans
pull up, feel it, with all my might
Feel it, soak the rain in my bones
Realise, know it, I’m alive all right

Xoxo,
Stef

For I am just human

For I am human,
She said, with sadness.
Hands twisting hands,
Confused, mad mess.

What do I know of this?
Tumbling, falling blindly;
Is it a swing and miss?
Broken, hands hang idly.

I was slow, she said,
I was unsure, scared.
It took time, she said,
With a push, I dared.

You’re human too;
Mistakes are made.
Forgive in lieu,
Of anger & pain.

But I need love, she said,
And you are a true man.
Attention, touch, she said,
For I am just human.

It’s Independence Day, indeed

Warning: I wrote the poem below a few months ago when I was feeling particularly saucy and there is excessive use of foul language. I just don’t think the point would have been quite as punctuated without it! If you don’t think you’ll like it then, please, don’t read it!

So, in honor if Independence Day, I’m sharing the sassiest, most assertive poem that I’ve ever written:

Stronger

Stronger, wiser, tougher.
You bet your ass, sir;
I’m like fucking alabaster.

Stronger, like titanium.
I can withstand any blast;
Don’t think I can’t fucking last.

Stronger, I’ll survive longer.
Don’t you even doubt;
I’m too fucking smart to pout.

Stronger, just watch me rise.
I’ll double-time up that ladder;
See how much you don’t fucking matter?

Stronger, I’m not going to cry.
You go find your own corner;
I’m so fucking done being a mourner.

Stronger, wiser, tougher.
You can kiss my ass, sir.
You’re no longer my master.

Happy Independence Day!

XOXO,

Stef

Soul Talking

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Maya Angelou speaks to my soul. I have to confess, I haven’t read a lot of her stuff. I will be fixing that straightaway, though, because every little thing she wrote or said, that I have a read, speaks to the very heart and soul within me. I read her words and, “Yes! Yes! So much yes!” screams from my head.

Maya Angelou, thank you for putting words to the stories of my (our) hearts. I have felt all of these things and I have felt them fully.

 
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Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at it destination full of hope.

 
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My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.

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Loving someone liberates the lover as well as the beloved. And that kind of love comes with age.

 

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I am grateful to have been loved and to be loved now and to be able to love, because that liberates. Love liberates. It doesn’t just hold—that’s ego. Love liberates. It doesn’t bind. Love says, ‘I love you. I love you if you’re in China. I love you if you’re across town. I love you if you’re in Harlem. I love you. I would like to be near you. I’d like to have your arms around me. I’d like to hear your voice in my ear. But that’s not possible now, so I love you. Go.

 

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As always, with love –

Stef

I get weak

Some of the things he writes make me weak and soppy and hopeful. No matter what, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being a romantic.

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I think this is from Moulin Rouge, but I didn’t realize it until I was trying to attribute the quote that was in my mind and looked it up:

The greatest thing you’ll learn is to love and be loved in return.

With love,
Stef