Lord I Believe Help me overcome my unbelief. Father please remove all fears, self-doubts and my nagging sense of failure from my troubled heart and soul. I am the broken winged sparrow lying shivering cold, bereft of hope, hungry for acceptance, on yon forest glen. A Woodland Tragedy. Will Jesus the Gentle Woodsman gather up my shattered heart and bind up my bloody infected wounds? Lord Hear my plaintive cries.
Which voices do I believe? The Judging critical voices of men with ravenous sharp toothed dogs or the brutal voices of women holding sharp knives ready to strike and drive men into grave ground. Or Dear Lord your Tender Still Small voice as you Cradle me in your arms, safety bound. Oh God comfort the descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar that we may find solace, peace and sanctuary in a weary heartless land.
I couldn’t build a tree house. Too high up and anyway I’m afraid of heights, so instead I built this little fort of sorts as a place to gather my thoughts after a hectic day. Made my best efforts with whatever materials the forest floor offered up as building materials. There were enough twigs and branches to construct more ground level tree houses or make my current enclosure larger but I chose to save some for kindling for warmth against the chill night air and the rest I kept stacked as a type of cord-wood not too far away.
It has become my sanctuary and safe haven I return to again and again to re-connect with Mother Earth and nature. Too small to stand upright clicking my heels together three times was not an option so I was forced to remain seated. With some degree of discomfort I could lay down in a fetal position while I imagined myself re-entering an alternate womb to be reborn into better circumstances. Mine was a tepee without the buffalo skin covering all bones and framework.
Sometimes I’d hug my knees and rhythmically rock back and forth while repeating what I thought were calming mantras, occasionally wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole transporting me some place free from pain, misery and cruelty. Like a shaman I chanted using my homemade rituals attempting to silence the drumbeat of squatter voices incessantly chattering inside my head versus the declarations of the Family. They created a dissonance within the time frame continuum of my thoughts.
You see our house, if you could call that ramshackle structure; a hodgepodge mixture of stone, wood and stucco addendum and afterthoughts as different parts of the building were constructed at different times upon the whims the directors and caretakers.
I was forced to share this mishmash cottage with twelve other inmates, bordered on this expanse of woods providing me a refuge from leaky roofs, busted walls, peeling wallpaper, lukewarm baths, moldy musty scented showers, not to mention all the yelling, screaming, arguments, fights and constant disagreements of a house too small to accommodate the number of people residing within its creaky ramparts. The Family nicknamed it the Hotel California. You know the place where you check in but never check out. The nails across chalkboard voices of The Family were constant knife thrusts to my brain making daily life a constant battle that did not end even has the diurnal gave up residence to the nocturnal for they all snored, wheezed and gasped through the night abyss. The Family’s house sits on an oddly place piece of land, our house gives way to forest which in turn after several miles gives way to craggy, rocky shores of a steep cliff, where if one sits perfectly still you can hear the violent waves crashing against rough jagged rock formations that looked as though they were designed by the devil himself. It is said that in olden times there used to be many shipwrecks where sailors were either impaled on the razor sharp Stalagmites. Sometimes you can even hear the shrieks, moans, cries and groans of the unfortunate wretches mixed in with the howling winds.
So I periodically retreated to my exoskeleton asylum as a sentry medium between earth and sky. I can never turn my mind off completely but within my secret hiding place the voices were kept to a low roar and bid to change direction and pace.
The Kindling delivered me from The Family’s vocalizations. I tried to warn them before. I tried to silence the voices through escape, but it was not working so I had to try another plan. The crackles and pops of my campfire seem to be in sync with the screams and cries for rescue from the patients locked inside their rooms but eventually those voices will die out also, and then sleep. Blessed sleep. As I drifted off I thought I heard sounds creeping up on me. Maybe it could be…. Naw. How would those deviant mutations get all the way out here.
While pyrotechnics roared and exploded beyond the glen my dream state thoughts went to Calista and Cassandra those Kudzu Chia matronly tumbleweeds who wreck havoc and chaos wherever they spore and spawn and their equally troublesome and problematic one-legged Siamese twin cousins Morton and Milton.
While walking the Woodland Green I paused to admire a luminescent mossy patch upon the ground when a preternatural calm descended upon the forest glen. Caught in a vortex the earth began to spin.
Then came a vast rustling of leaves and branches so strong that I thought the mighty Looming verdant giants would come crashing down. Whilst caught mid-spin I kept my eye on light shone down from the jagged Oculus mid the canopy of trees. Forms free-falling started to take shape. A veritable multitude of amalgam multifeatured animals like none seen in God’s Natural Kingdom.
Seemingly Middle Earth had exploded skyward hurtling forth a cornucopia of imps, fairies, hobgoblins, and satyrs, gremlins with their symphony of resounding bleats, howls, and shrieks. As they struck twig strewn ground at once began leaping, frolicking and gamboling in a macabre dance, a bier simultaneously appearing in forest clearing. Such a cacophony of squeaks, squawks, hisses and moans that assailed my senses that I shut up my ears attempting to block the imprisoning noises.
Foggy Misty morn over Central Park in the ball field
The Bier seeming to be the only source of calm called me forth from this forest den of iniquity bidding me peace, calm and tranquility from the storm. I answered Bier’s call to lie upon its violet flowered shroud surrendering to dreams eternal of the Babes in the Wood.
Before Hypnos rendered his potion and twin Thanatos grasped my hand in final repose, I heard on nigh the beating winged hooves, snorting of frenzied galloping hooves. Redemption, Salvation and Deliverance arrived in the equine forms of Royal Unicorn and Winged Pegasus. Equestrian gods breathed life upon whisking me away to Utopian shores.
Ladies, Should you find yourself hospital or bed rest sick; should you lose your job or your hours are reduced and that fool you call a man is offering no financial support and still wants you to cook, clean and have sex something is wrong with the whole picture. Get that male’s shoes out from under your bed.
Yesterday I overheard a conversation between two 20-somethings. One young lady was pouring out her heart to her girlfriend that she is working, getting ready to return to college for another semester, doing all the housework including ironing his shirts, more or less being this man’s personal servant and sex slave. As she was telling her story I could tell the young woman had reached her limit. She refused to iron his shirts anymore and wanted him to carry his weight otherwise she would leave. He responded that if she left the relationship was over. With the support of her understanding girlfriend she was drawing strength to leave this one-sided relationship.
Trauma Drama
In her words I saw myself in the last year with my abusive ex-boyfriend. At the time I was in my 40s but like these two young women I realized what these type men really want is a combination of their Mama and a hoe. The two ladies were white so Sisters take note, pretty much all men Black, white, brown, etc… eventually cause problems. Baby boys all. Breaking up is very emotional for women because you want the relationship to work but relationships only work if both parties are invested and respect one another.
Meantime, To the Left, to the Left, everything you own in a box to the Left.” – Beyonce. Git to steppin’ and don’t let the door hit you where the dog shoulda bit you! You and I ain’t got time for no foolishness!!
Gia Allemand, a sister in the struggle from Queens, like me. I was once in the dark. I stayed with him for seven years wanting the relationship to work, fear of being alone since I knew I was aging. There are many reasons women stay so I reserve judgment. Even when my ex was especially cruel and violent I still wanted to stay with him hoping things would work out but they never did. Only when stuff got really bad and I thought he might injure or kill me did I ask God to remove him. He left Thanksgiving Day 2007 and a weight was lifted off my shoulders physically but I still deal with problems of being unworthy or inadequate.
It is a never ending battle and the main reason why I finally gave up on men, dating and relationships last year. Domestic violence and emotional abuse have lingering problems that take years to fix. I’m still a work in progress trying to regain my self-confidence. Even after all these years I still have a lot of self-doubt. My heart goes out to all women of all ages and races in the battle to regain you. Sweet Gia, I hope in your decision to leave this earthly plane that your burdened spirit is now at rest. Truly I wish you had lived but my prayer is that through your battle other women will get the help that they so desperately need.
Gia, like you I felt him not just saying but through his cruelty to me, repeatedly communicating over and over, “I Don’t Love you Anymore.”
As my Dad used to say, “Deborah, There are more fish in the ocean.” Alas for you my poor girl this was it. His words were you’re final breaking point.
Gia, the Bible speaks of renewing our minds. That renewal takes more than prayer. It is prayer, meditation, therapy, family and friends. However I know when I was in my 20s the slap in the face, the betrayal of the end of a relationship feels like the end of the world. I suppose for me being in my 40s and living through a disastrous love affair I had a better perspective on life. After months and years of verbal and physical abuse I just wanted the relationship to end. Finally I removed my rose colored glasses. Dawn ever slowly was breaking. This year light has come and deliverance is nigh. We are all Wounded Healers.
I’m the type of woman who is loyal, faithful, and who will love to the bitter end, however these days I determine the end not the man. I will no longer be the sacrificial lamb. Gia Allemand your story and many other stories will serve as the first step toward wholeness.
John 5:1-8
New King James Version (NKJV)
A Man Healed at the Pool of Bethesda
5 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew, Bethesda,[a] having five porches. 3 In these lay a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed, waiting for the moving of the water. 4 For an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had.[b]5 Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?”
7 The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”
8 Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.”
Simon and Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water Studio Version
I live in Bodega-Land, Brooklyn. Exchange at the Bodega across from the Laundromat. I’m wearing an old Ecko Red short sleeve shirt and some skinny jeans. I’m waiting for my Beef Patty with cheese and coco bread. While I’m paying for my food and drink I get the following rap from Snagglepuss. “Ya keep ya body nice. Can I get your number and can I give you mine.” I’m polite and keep that smile on my face knowing I’m about to reject this fool because I don’t want any confrontation before I get to eat my food or check my clothes washing across the street.
He notices that I speak proper English and says; I see that you’re an intellectual. Hmmm I’m thinking just because I live in the Ghetto doesn’t mean I must lapse into Ghettoese or Ebonics. Crooked teeth continues, maybe you and me can get together and discuss spirituality, blah, blah, blah, bullshit. You know the way that Rasta Negro was eyeing me up and down his mind wasn’t on the things of God or any type of Spiritual talk. Leon Spinks just wanted to find a way to get some “Coochie”. I lied and told him I had a boyfriend. I just wanted to get away from his sorry ass, finish my food and get my laundry done. Mission Accomplished.
However in the words of the immortal Ruth Brown, “I’ll Just Keep Sitting on it. I ain’t giving it away.” Rochdale Village had its share of old coots prowling for “Coochie” I see Brownsville/Bed Stuy has it’s own share of horny fools with really lame game. http://youtu.be/KPll4sQDssU
Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain’t Listening.
Ladies, always remember Men are like the City Bus there’s another one coming in 20 minutes hopefully with good teeth, fresh breath, who bathes and uses deodorant.
Honey if you’re game is lame and your rap is weak don’t even think of stepping to me. No romance without finance. And no I don’t do Ugly, fat or Stupid. I may be broke but I’m never desperate. I’d work 40 hours of overtime before I hook up with your no job, no car, no talking sorry hoodrat/thug/bad boy ass. Been there. Done That. Paid the Price.
Ladies you gotta let these men know what’s up. They telling you they can do acrobatics with their dick! Really! Are they fucking double jointed or contortionists? Give me a fucking break. Please! Why is their dick so much more special than any other. Is it extra long? Does it swing from side to side. WTF! Then they a fucking freak and belong in Ripleys Believe it or Not. Or maybe they should be making porno films. I’m older and wiser now. Dick don’t mesmerize me anymore. Get something in your head or you’ll never get me in bed. My body is my temple and only my true King who I choose can enter in. Don’t get it twisted. Little boy your package does not impress me. In the meantime Losers give your Ding-A-Ling a hand job.
My Ding-A-Ling
Ladies if you’ve had the best don’t settle for less.
Get up off your broke ass, fix your face , see a dentist and fix your teeth, and get an education and a decent job. If you can’t come correct don’t come at all.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 