This post is part of a series telling a longer story. You can find yesterday's post I Am From White Also, But Not Only here. I asked in my group of writing friends, holy misfits in their own ways, would you please pray? Would you pray for me because I am knots and nerves and every bit that little girl who didn’t want the wrong answers to reveal she couldn’t explain herself. I had seen the link on a friend’s Facebook page for an Authors Retreat for People of Color. I was excited that my …
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I Am From White Also, But Not Only: Part 1
We did an exercise. A poem with I am from. I've done it before with SheLoves. There's something kind of like it on my About page. But this is what I learned about myself. I am from white also, but not only. I was a girl who believed herself to be unlike the others. I had dirty secrets and broken places and I could never force the jagged bits down smoothly when I pushed up against the fringes of the gathered ones. I would approach tentatively and stand at the edges dipping my toes into hope, …
A Prayer for the Weary Ones
I spent the morning flat on my back in my bed, pain radiating from hip to shoulder and every movement worsened by the limbs of a small child pressed into my ribs. He had crept in sometime in the early morning hours when the world was still tucked gently under darkness like a warm comforter. I don’t know if it was a nightmare that spooked him but I lifted the blanket like an invitation and he scampered up my side and nestled in. Around 3 am, I heard the moaning, that deep guttural pain that …
