Disorder is a state of mind sometimes

Some would call it disorder
I would call it deeper cleansing
There are papers and feelings all over the place
Thrown into piles and corners
Need to organize for some sense of control
Of the office
The day
As if the wind won’t blow it down to the river
Swirls of paper and emotions
Raging surges
To forgiveness
To sadness
To frustration
Dreaming of awkward births and copper colored babies
With contorted legs and tiny mouths
Feeding on my nipples for life
Randomly found photographs and memories
Not happy
Just hurtful
And strategically painful
I must expunge them and their emotional vampirism
Clean out the moldy scars
Unfetter my wings for flight
This again
Once again
Yes again
Why can’t this be easy
The worthy things don’t ever seem to be

***   ***   ***

Today (well, right now) Whiskey, Words and A Shovel by R H Sin is #1 in African American Poetry on Amazon. As of 3/10/16 there is a signed deal for a second book. I searched out a few of the words. And I have to say how WOW I felt. As a woman. As a lover. As a blaqchild. I love owning my poetry and standing on it, like this poet does. Check out the imagery of them. I’m looking forward to reading more of these words.

I have to make time for writing like this in my life. For writers like this. I don’t want to be “like” them. I just want to continue standing–my own tree in this same forest. Who hates on the beauty of a tree? Who let’s it be less than what it is? The power of the word to transform is everywhere spoken, written, sung, embodied…

What are you writing on the post-it notes of your soul (or destiny)? Who/what is inspiring you? Where are you most read?