Life happens in cycles and mine have been like riding motorcycles—crashing and experiencing road rashes. I am born into a family I don’t understand. I am not accepted and am totally rejected when my father dies. I am eight and couldn’t escape–fight after fight–I know pain–but I am loving and kind. I never understand what is wrong with my mind. I can always feel the pain of others as if their situation is happening to me. They cry–I cry. I want to help. My life is not smooth yet I’m cool. Going to school is the hardest thing I have to do. Kids are cruel. I always seem to make it through.
Becoming a young lady is lonely girls are having sex to call themselves a woman
I was born a female and we all know little girls grow up and have curves having sex will not make me a woman–a single parent perhaps which fills all gaps–no time for me or school. I buy clothes–not baby clothes. The girls are angry because they have babies, and I talk about other things, “You ain’t no virgin,” they say “I don’t have any kids. you don’t know what I am,” is my response to them. Few people really know me. I can’t let them in my heart is full of pins from the pain of yesterdays.
Distantly peculiar. I just want out life is too hard. I don’t understand. Have folded my hands death is fine cause life is not mine. I have little control of many incidents’ though I have made decisions and reaped the consequences. I take flight using marriage as my kite. My daughter is cute at least I have her. Divorce occurs.
No love. No home No friends. I get physically sick. I wish I were dead but then I won’t know if my baby is fed. I return to school and find happiness. I’ve always yearned to learn.
I give up men. I am not married and I will not put a man in my daughter’s life until she can understand what child molestation is and then she must grow into a young lady unharmed. She will not be placed in harm’s way. I love my child. I will suffer, as I need a man’s touch–or do I? Now I know the difference between a need and a want.
I marry again and raise his kids. Mother-in-law is trouble. Trying to rule my house is not a good idea. I’ve been fighting all of my years. I don’t want to fight. There is no one more important in a man’s life than his mother and his wife. I’m not competing. I am the queen of my dynasty–a son and a husband can not compare. Quite frankly, I love my husband. Mother, I don’t think you know what I know, nor can you do or receive what belongs to me–so stop trying to rule me
What! she hit me with her hands. Laid her hands upon my persons. I’m stressed out. She’s laid out. Problem solved. She is out of my life I tried to teach her. I told her to leave me alone or she must go. Blood is thicker than water, she says. So she has to learn the hard way. She left rather fast.
When is this cycle of life over? Is my life cursed?
Forty feels good. I am sure. I look in the mirror and I want change. I loc my hair and dye it black. What does golden bronze colored hair have to do with me? A phony I see–me. A black woman with golden bronze hair. It’s not for me. This is my decision for me not every black woman-just me. So keep your hate mail. People make their own decisions, and this one, I will change. A black blonde, ha! ha!
Blast: I am not talking against black blondes. I don’t care how you wear your hair or where you bought it. How others wear their hair has nothing to do with my identity. I’m not a Kennedy, but a blonde I can’t be. These “wanna whites” are killing me.
Oh, no! when did the tornado hit me? A stroke, a nervous wreck, too much asthma too much prednisone. What is happening? I give out while asphyxiating I see an image. It is clear in my mind before I die—a celebrity–unique—a poetess
Off the ventilator. My life has changed. I am not the same lack of oxygen to the brain nearly kills me–an asthma attack I’m glad I had according to my doctor I have dodged death twice and may not be so lucky the next time.
Depression sets in. I can’t lift my head or remember the time but I don’t want to die the image is too prominent in my mind. It means something, I know. It is a long crawl back. I’m so alone but help arrives right on time patient and kind. Isn’t that what love is?
Life has been tough but I definitely know love. I understand my trials now. I needed them to see the real me–a writer and a poetess is the core of me. Emancipation at last
I am free!
Love helps me. I see light. I am new and on another road in the same world but living a different life–a different mindset is what love is about–loving me! loving me! It is my responsibility to take care of me,
I claim my power, but I’d be a liar if I said I did it alone. I had help. My friends shone like the sun. The Fair-weathers drone.
I am at peace I know my center–the very essence of me–love helps me to accept me—- to reason—– and to make people respect me. I no longer live to serve others. I am not the mediator though I grieve when I see people in pain there is no gain. I have to be me–the image of me is powerful indeed–spirituality first and I must work toward my propensity and becoming every bit of the core of me
The image so prominent in my mind assures me I am fine. I have arrived and no matter what else happens it is all good.
“Some people just need to be slapped”
I am she who is slapped in the cycles of life.
Ouch that hurt. but I emerged
Vivian Dixon Sober
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