Category Archives: Poetry

Death Letter

With this pen I write my death letter,

Purchase my soul by placing black ink on white paper.

                                    {Put my dreams inside}

Red lines too small to define my destiny. Voices inside my head detail a life I swear I never had, while prose written displays a haunting tale of a life caught in the balance between

                ………….here……….and…….. nowhere.

Once called perdition, now called the blocks on my street. Sharp thoughts cut tender wrists that drip black blood while silent prayers manifest themselves as doomsday messages encased in delicate glass globes filled with muddy waters.

With this pen. I write my death letter….

Forced closed eyes usher in the darkness and memories of a past not forgotten, while malicious deeds done by loved ones wage war with what is and…. what. used. to. be.

Double-edged truths slit to bone as nightmarish recollections of incestuous activities crowd my mind like hollow point bullets looking for targets.

With this pen. I write my death letter…..

Pin my confession onto boards of scarlet and where them around my neck like the jewelry of ancestor’s past. Laid my bosom down in the pit of BABYLON and sang Zion’s songs in a foreign land. Languished in the

                                                          depths

                                                                                  of

                                                                                            hell.

While fear played fiddler on the roof of my soul. Became a willing participant in the devil’s schemes while singing praises in the Hallelujah harvest.

With this pen. I write my death letter….

Play peek-a-boo with skeletons locked In OPEN closets while counting inSaniTY sane. Foraged the former sins hoping to find grace in familiar faces. Doing that which I Will NOT to do while what i WANT to do STANDS.

                                                               STILL.

Still I wait at mercy’s door to enter into the throne of GRACE. where brokeness revealed brings Healing. There I fall upon my face. Faced the battered mind inside this death letter penned, bowed down on bruised knee opened my heart and set captivity Free.images

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Sum of my Parts. A poem, of me

cogito_ergo_sum_by_mrakoslava

I’ve never really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The baby born with meningitis and a brain tumor, who spent six months in the hospital connected to tubes and wires. I’ve never known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The six-year-old that was molested by a friend of her mother’s while she was being baby sat. Though she wished it were a dream she knew it was all too real. I’ve never really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The 14-year-old that had a baby because she could never tell anyone about the 6-year-old that was molested by a friend of her mother’s  while she was being baby sat. I’ve never quite known who I was. I’ve never really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. Gave up my youthful identity to the world to be a mother to the baby that I had. I’ve never quite known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The 21-year-old with a 7-year-old child who had just lost the love of her life because neither one of them were bold enough to tell others that this is where they wanted to be. I’ve never known who I was. I have always  been the sum of my parts. The young lady that looked for love though she never really knew what it was. Trying to find that very thing that she had never been privy to. I’ve never really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The 30-year-old that found herself longing for a life she never knew. Dreaming of faraway places and Unfamiliar faces. I’ve never known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. The mother, the wife, the worker, the friend, the lover, the sister, the confidant. The Strong independent one. For so long, I let the world tell me who I should be. When they said I was loud I quieted down. When they said I was too quite. I roared like a lion. I’ve never really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. I embraced the angry-ness in me. The joker. The one that always tried to brighten up the situation, but could never quite put a finger on the true essence of me. I’ve never quite known who I was. I have ALWAYS been the sum of my parts. The evangelist without a call. The child with no home. The searcher, the seeker for truth, the dream catcher. I have NEVER really known who I was. I have always been the sum of my parts. As the sum of my parts get bigger and bigger I lose myself more and more. I have always been the sum of my parts and I still can’t see who I am. Hopefully before I die, I will find who I REALLY am and the sum of my parts will make more sense.