damaged collateral

I.
yesterday joseph came
home       draped in crimson
muslin smelling       gentle
          white lotus leaves
bowing underfoot

they call him hero
help him
          into the cadillac
hoist old glory
and play riffles
like trumpets in a parade

was it worth it?
               mother sobs
was it worth it?
               we all wonder      angry

he came home
like this

II.
fireworks paint the sky
      orange
               red
                    a ghastly purple
Mosul erupts           a cacophony
of women and wailing
babies struck down

without uttering a sound
we watch
seduced by the blood
pooling silently
beneath our feet

ok, so i've found a glitch in the matrix...you won't be able to see the full layout if you are accessing the web from places that block certain sites (like my job)! that is annoying. i will have to find a new hosting site for the images...but i'll be up and running room. i was up till like 1am working on this site! it WILL work! lol.

bless

so, i was feeling restless & wanted a change.

you like?

(one of the walls in my classroom)


there are 17 days left in the school year (!!!). i have been counting down since day 34. each day my students are itching for me to change the amount of days, and to be honest, so am i.

with each day that falls away from the calendar, i am one step closer to summer. one step closer to hanging out w/ my son. one step closer to seeing (hugging.kissing.holding beloved!), and one step closer to NOT having to wake up at 5:45am.

i'm SO tired

i'm exhausted. teaching has been the most difficult experience of my life. this year has felt like THE longest year of my life. these kids--my kids--ask (demand) for every ounce of energy i have. i leave here feeling tired, drained, but not completely "out of it." my coworker next door says that your first year is all about endurance & survival...and he continues to say that "you just have to think the kids are funny." when he first said that, i thought he was loosing his mind. afterall, he has been teaching for quite awhile (and had just got several teeth knocked out playing softball--crazy!), so i attributed it to burn-out. but he has a point. if i couldn't sit back and laugh at all of my kid's quirks (and manish ways), i'd drive myself crazy.

this year i strived to teach my kids how to be better writers & open them up to new things. i'm not sure how much i've succeeded, but i know where I went wrong, and where i can improve for next year. being a reflective teacher is key to being a successful teacher.

i have come to the realization that i don't have ANY control over what happens to my students at home, on the schoolyard, or in other classes. all i can control is what happenes in room 234. i want my room to be a shelter, a safe space where they allow themselves to take risks, to learn, and to love learning.

i haven't quite gotten there yet, but soon come.

bless

I rarely check my email anymore, but recently I received a note from a woman whose boyfriend is locked up (hello, if you’re reading). She wanted some advice. I wondered what profound bit of information I could offer to comfort and guide her? All of my years of education, and nearly two years of dealing with THIS, led me to one clichéd phrase: take it one day at a time.

Since this journey (and blog) began I have been so full of colliding emotions: doubt, love, blame, dedication, sadness, joy…each fighting for a seat on my train of thought. I have made it through all of this by sheer divine force. It is a wonder I haven’t gone (completely) crazy yet, but we women aren’t afforded the luxury to lose our minds, permanently.

I have my moments, fits of crying—always hushed—where I feel I can’t go on like this, trapped by the distance and loneness. But the alternative…isn’t even in question.

This weekend was the first time beloved and I actually spoke the gravity of the years we are facing out loud to each other.

Ten summers will pass before he is home
Our son will be just about to turn 13
I will be pushing 38
And the world
Will have changed so much

Everyday I question what I/he/we will look like in 10 years. Ten years from now, what will “us” even feel like?

my son is determined
to break his arm

standing atop our
leather ottoman          proud
& grinning as if
he just conqured
        kilimanjaro

last week       he fell
and wailed until
salt caked his lashes
hysterical               he was
comforted with kisses
and coos

i ask my mother
how to keep him
off the furniture

"a boy" she says
"what do you expect?"

twenty-seventh trip
'round the sun         wondering what
this voyage will bring

i am a sucker for love stories
lush
complicated
delicious
stories that speak
to every inch of
i and i

on wednesday, i perused
the bookstore searching
for something to inspire
a depressed student

instead i stumbed upon
Kwame Dawes' magnificant pen

you see, i am drawn
to love stories
set afire in the belly
of the caribbean
full up wit history
and black bodies lovin
themselves and tryin
to make it
in spite of
themselves

last night
i stayed up till 4am
wrapped up in
Keshia and Kofi's complications
their arguments, their lovemaking
wishing
beloved was here to
share it

[hello all. no, this is not a commercial lol...it's just an offering inspired by a great book. buy it! Akashic Books ]