from a weed to a beautiful lavender colored tulip.

i read at my first open mic. no longer a poetic virgin. although i still feel like a poseur. i read this piece below.

(these words were born through an activity given to me by my therapist. i was to write about my body. how i see myself and how i want to see myself. it was an amazing writing exercise...)



i stand crooked and insecure. brown and awkward. i often go unnoticed. folks pass by me without even a second look. i am nothing yet i am something to somebody. this weed, me, growing in a sea of manicured faces. beautiful faces that look at me with questions like who is she? why does she look like that? i stand out like a sore thumb. there is no way getting around it. i am different. my branches do not curve. they are unattractive. difficult to look at. my legs are weak. the wind is blowing me left and right. i am fighting to stand tall but am unable to. i fight to raise my back but i fall back to my feet. until one day the rain washes away my sadness. the manicured lawn is shining bright. something comes over me. the green zombies start to morph into these dry, brown objects. lifeless beings. something is happening to me. this power is going through my veins. my brown stems are changing colors. ROYGBIV is starting to glow on my feet.

i stand tall, poised, and confident. no longer brown and dull. but black and bright. the sun is hugging me. my African ancestors are holding me up. i’m no longer afraid. i have the spirits of mi abuela, mi tia tata, mi abuelo ‘tin, and so many of my other kin. they made a path for me. i will not let them down. they planted the seeds of love, compassion, and courage on this growing bud. as i rise i notice that i am taller than the cookie cutter faces on the green pastures. i rise with a power i have never felt before. my green limbs resemble the beauty that i always known lied within. i stretch my hands out in mountain pose. the purple petals hug me and they stretch out. my salute to the sun is returned with a glow that brings my other petals out. the lavender kisses my face. i shift to warrior pose. then crescent moon. other petals just begin to grow. my strong, toned legs are holding my pose. i am a female warrior in a battle for my life. and i win. i choose life. from a weed to a blossoming tulip. i know that my growing is infinite. my beauty has no bounds. i am who God intended me to be. a beautiful, lavender, blossoming tulip.

namaste.