From

Photo by Luku00e1u0161 Dlutko on Pexels.com
I am from slave ships, cotton fields, and courthouse slave trades
I am from generations of strong women who fought to do more than simply survive
From an oldest, broken white son with a poet's heart and a love of rivers
I am from a youngest, determined black daughter who sacrificed so much for those she loves

I am from a loving grandmother who wore her traumas as bitterness
While she fixed fried chicken and collard greens with ease
I am from Saturday morning chores with the "golden oldies" playing
I am from love and struggle and sacrifice, the latter two I was rarely aware of
I am from church on Sundays to commune with a God I knew better than most in that place
And who wore a virgin mother's countenance

I am from morning and afternoon cartoon blocks
And Saturday mornings in front of the TV singing to School House Rock
I am from riding my bike for miles and for hours
I am from being too curvy to be a real dancer
While I danced my heart to joyful dust on every stage
I am from having so much to say but rarely feeling heard
I am from watching TV at the same time as a friend while on a phone attached to a wall
And playing chicken with who will hang up before a parent yelled at both of us to get off the phone

I am from acid washed jeans, baby doll tops, denim, velour, and asymmetrical collars and hems
Hammer pants, jelly shoes, banana clips, mismatched pairs of accessories, side ponytails
From French-cut leotards, stirrup pants, Lycra biker shorts, flavored lip gloss, and neon everything

I am from My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Bright, Cabbage Patch Kids, He-Man, and She-Ra
I am from Voltron, Robotech, GI Joe, Snorks, Smurfs, reruns of Loony Tunes, and Scooby-Doo
From Newton's Apple, Square One TV, 321 Contact, Not Another Science Show, and Read It
I am from Garbage Pail Kids, Magic: The Gathering, Pogs, and Beanie Babies
I am from "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret?" and "The Dollhouse Murders"
From Choose Your Own Adventures, and Encyclopedia Brown
Christopher Pike, Diane Duane, collections of "true" ghost stories and tales of the strange

I am from Dallas, Dynasty, Rescue 911, and Unsolved Mysteries
Fantasy Island, The Cosby Show, and The Wonderful World of Disney
I am from "At the sound of the tone *chime sound* turn the page."
From hitting record on my tape deck hoping to catch my favorite song without a DJ's voice
I am from Fisher Price record players, dual tape decks, and dropping mix tapes for mix CDs
From VHS winning over beta-max and laser disc
From spending hours in mall bookstores, arcades, and food courts

I am from dreams and imaginings
Soap bubble fairy wishes and hours of made up worlds alone and with friends
From possibilities and plans
I am from "You will have more than I did."
And "You will want for little."
I am from a loving mother who never let me feel alone
I am from good friends who never made me feel like the weird kid I kinda was
I am from "You are as good, if not better, than EVERYONE else, and don't you forget it!"
And "You can do anything you put your mind to."

I am from a tapestry of experiences and influences
From a variety of adventures and explorations
I am from a life full of love and support and as much opportunity as could be afforded
And though not always easy or smooth
I am from the just-right mix that created the me you see

-gws


How to Steal a Voice

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com
Step on it until it collapses in on itself
Choke away all of its oxygen
Ignore it
Dismiss it
Gaslight it
React hostilely to its sound
Force its words to drown beneath sobs
Scream over it
Belittle it
Steal its truth away
Repeat until it fails to rise anymore
Until it is replaced by clenched teeth and fists
Held back by tight and bitten lips
Repeat until it forgets its own sound

-gws

I Might Have Been

Photo by Carolina Basi on Pexels.com
In another life I might have been
A pirate queen
A courtesan
A poison-wielding spy
A teacher's pet
A protégé
The apple of your eye
A doe-eyed starlet
A beatnik poet
A comic, humor wry
An astronaut
A swimming star
A mime who would not cry
And yet I have this life to live
One shot for this go 'round
For all the mes that might have been
I like the me I found

-gws

Seeking Release

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com
Each time the house shook I knew
A storm was brewing
With unbridled rage
Knew that pools of acrid magma
Were rising to the surface
Seeking release

Each time the house shook I knew
That nowhere was safe
There was not enough time to escape
The maelstrom was coming
Wrathful and vicious
Seeking release

Each time the house shook I knew
I would stand against the gale
Diving deep into my power
Drawing on an ancient strength
Of ancestor, element, and divinity
Seeking release

-gws

An Education I Have Failed to Get

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
I often wonder if I'm missing something
I keep seeming to make the same mistake
Unable to avoid the pothole I know is there
To avoid the nail that snags my sweaters
Every time I walk past
Always forgetting the indulgence that makes me ill
Perhaps these continuous tragedies are the result of
An education I have failed to get
Or failed to learn from
The ripping and tearing
The tripping and falling
The banging and bruising
All from things I know will cause me harm
Things I should know to avoid
And yet I cannot seem to hold the lessons
I cannot seem to employ the learning
And I wonder what is wrong with me

-gws

Trophies

Photo by DS stories on Pexels.com
Do you earn medals for hurting me
Because you treat it like an Olympic sport?
Are my tears some cocktail that intoxicates your soul
For I have cried oceans at your words and deeds?
Is my pain the wood for your spiteful fire
For it seems to always stoke your rage higher?
When did the joy we shared turn to ash?
When did that concentrated venom infuse into your words?
When did you develop such resentment of me to turn your eyes to depth-less stone?

-gws

Nourished

When my roots are nourished
The fire at my core ignites
The light returns to my eyes
As my soul flares bright with renewal
Colors become more vivid
Flavors more complex
My pupils dilate
The world is exciting again
Enticing again

When my roots are nourished
My mind becomes expansive
Filled with possibilities, curiosities, and wonderment
My blood sings universal mysteries into my ears
As I become wholly seated in my body
So that I may experience life 
Amongst the tapestry of human sensations 

When my roots are nourished
I crave deeper connections
My need for physical touch grows
Primal energy infuses my thoughts and dreams
As I desire to experience the universe on a spiritual level
Burning across the sky in an explosion of sacred energy
Enlightened and sated and complete

-gws