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The Blood

She is born with a naturally occurring third eye, nestled within the softest place on earth.  If you do it right, it might just wink at you.  Waiting is a cycle.  Stillness is a cycle.  Regeneration and resurrection?  Both are cycles.  She wants no parts of your war – no parts of the blood you spill.  (She often twitches at the day men were allowed into labor rooms.)  The blood she spills is of living water; not of slain innocence and not of combat, campaign, or crusade.  Yes, pay close attention to whom God granted His living water.  It’s been said that it’s just too much.  Too crass, too saturated, too heavy.  Too brand new.  The blood.  Of cyclical possibilities with a scent of untouched earth waiting to be sown (or not).  Rain on the horizon.  Seeds taking root.  Her insides – the great outdoors.  It is her space and mine.  Immense pain and immense pleasure.  What of true life doesn’t birth both?  Charged with the permutation of unadulterated first breaths!  And we let them shame…tax…shun us for it.  A gift.  An offering.  A safe space that everyone has at least once been familiar with.  And we let them shame us for it?  A built in clock synced with the moon, ocean tides…with her who stands with me and for me.  And we let them shame us for it?  Born with everything we need.  To carry life.  And we let them shame us for it?  Phenomenal soil – watering itself from the inside out.  And we let them shame us for it?  Worth bleeding for.  And we let them shame us for…the blood.

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Hey there Kid…

Hey There Kid

Hey, kid–kid with the kinky thick hair. The kid with the name everyone pronounced wrong. The bubbly chubby kid who loved to sing. One kid who’d run around with her portable speaker and mic and perform like a little preacher. Kid who loved climbing the trees in the backyard. The kid with a bottomless imagination. A kid who’d daydream all day. Hey there, kid, who loved bubble baths with her mom and would sing, “You are so beautiful….to me, can’t you see?” Continue reading Hey there Kid…

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Broken bones.

He graced me with a perfect smile upon his face

As he placed the most magical kiss lips can taste

Mending all my broken bones together

His presence couldn’t be detained by any weather

All of the bullet wounds surrounding my heart

Reminding me of the way I fell apart

Love will send your mind spiraling in the dark hours of the night

Reminiscing on all of the times you had to put up a fight

Demanding for him to stay

Yet all they tend to do is begin to run away

That is why our magnificent kiss haunts me in my dreams

Sadly love never is the way it seems

As much as I hoped this time would be different

I know deep in my core that it isn’t

I watch as the spot in my driveway remains empty

As you continue to love on plenty

Leaving them wondering deeply in their souls

Why their minds were left souring from their control

They fell for your same tricks

That you applied just as smoothly as the kiss you placed upon my lips

I knew I should of ran from the start

My mother always told me I was smart

I still am baffled in the way you managed to get under my skin

Why do people like you always have to win?

But I have learned my lesson this time around

As the scars you left on me are no longer profound

I will soon be ready to love again

As I no longer view my broken bones as a sin.

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Breathing in my Black Body in Birmingham, Alabama

Breathing in my Black Body in Birmingham, Alabama

(Picture courtesy of Salaam Green)

I am not confident, or an inspiration, or even brave simply because I have lost some weight. I get dressed in the dark and go to work with wrinkles in my clothes most days. In my previous home I decorated the whole living room with mirrors, mirrors over the fireplace, sofa, and such; however, in my small apartment, I haven’t looked in a mirror in months. I hate taking pictures even today and years ago I decided to not join the selfie craze because; I was too fat.

Continue reading Breathing in my Black Body in Birmingham, Alabama

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Blessing or Lesson

More often than not we let ourselves be surrounded by negativity. And things keep going wrong and we believe it’s wrong and unfair and we feed the cycle till we’re buried underneath it all.

After a while, we stop asking if that’s how it should be. And then we forget how it all started. We are forever lost in the darkness inside ourselves that was originated elsewhere but placed there. And we believe we deserve it. And we believe it’s our own damn fault. And it is. And it’s not. It is because we let it grow and take over. It’s not because we are not responsible for the environment we live in.

Continue reading Blessing or Lesson

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What I Make of Me

I wish I could reminisce like you for some sorta time and space I felt safe. But since a young age I had to learn to hold myself and know despite it all, I was still enough. But as you would have guessed, I didn’t know that and spiralled down a really dark path. No, there were no alcohol and drugs, there was something worse, the constant battle with crippling feelings of ‘not enough’.

Imagine growing up believing you should not exist at all. Imagine how would you turn out. I wish I could say I’m turned out ok, but I guess that’s not the complete truth. Even though you may see me holding it together, I’m no more found than you.

We’re lost and alone in the journey back home trying to grow along the way. Even if we do find souls that help us carry the load, in the end we’re the ones to answer to what we let go.

Maybe it would be easier had I learned differently from what my childhood branded in me. But I’ll never know and it doesn’t matter. I’ve learned to make of my self what brings me peace and let go of the misconceptions in my system of beliefs.
© Máh Lima


Photo by Shelby Deeter on Unsplash

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Imagination in Abstract Thought

The beauty of creation lead me here today. I don’t know if I truly accept this. I am a part of a tribe. A tribe built on color, texture, and imagination. A visual epilogue of brilliance. Am I worthy of such mental dexterity? Do I tremble before my forefathers of thought? I am beholden to this refuge of peace. Oh, to be with others who see the same vision as I do. What a beautiful thought.

For years I took for granted what was gifted to be. For years I hid like a scared animal, craving the limelight but was intimidated by the glare. Our voices should be heard, so they are added to the spectrum. Yes, we may be turned away. To only those who are blind.

That is okay. I want to be seen, from where I create.

@christinamariewatkins

 

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Self Actualization

Look at the sky
“It’s gray” you’ll say
Cloudy, I know,
but light still finds a way.

Why do you hide behind clouds of sadness
raining down your face,
letting the storm obscure your heart?

There’s more to you
than the pain you’re through
Just like the light that’s hidden away,
find your cracks to shine.

© Máh Lima

(Photo by Lionel Gustave on Unsplash)