Monday, September 3, 2012
In My Own Eyes
I was 12 when i lost my birth right. Lost the joyous air that gave me life. Still, to this day, I do get uptight. I know she put up a graceful fight, But, I never got to witness the beauty in her sight. I witnessed her struggle though. I witnessed the parts of her life die slow. I was 7, & with sisters, we were taken. A child removed from its home, I was mistaken. We were never to return to the home that gave us life. Where my sisters & i put up a great number of fights. Where our basement was a school, & we had freedom with no restriction or rule. But she had restrictions at the doorstep. She couldnt remove her habits to help herself survive. Because no one helped her when she was alive. & her seeds were too young to mentally be by her side. But she tried. Tried to do what was right but her past life was still dirty. She couldnt change that, but her future, was getting clean. She was clean; face clear, smile beautiful & sirene. Wanting to reunite with her girls of 3. So She begged & pleaded spiritually on her knees. God had given her a Yes, but her own birth right forever said an unforgiven No to her pleas. I did not witness her cries. But we all witnessed the lies. A house of disorder set to flames, Only with our anger could we be the remains. I was 12 when I lost my birth right. As I loss, I gained something else. I gained my own life. Had no 1 to tell me how bad the menstrual pains of life would be. So I pushed to fight, With my Siblings of Temporary Rivalry. There was never a clear winner because we all lost. As, from us, she tried to gain. But when age 14-15 came There was no love left to remain. We 3, called names for her heavenly sake. Trifling, selfish, dead like your mother, ungrateful asses. And that final day I broke free of her shameful past. She had disrespected our birth rights’ ashes. A bag of clothes & belonging, she was there, tossed like trash. And just like we lost her, so had we became, to our grandmother & her respect. Yes, she carried us through her orphanage. But she too, restricted us at her doorstep. Kicked out. We became each others birth rights. We dared to live for her fight. As bloods boiled, we thickened our skin. Fought the evil circumstances that wanted to get in. And we were alone to begin. Tried building our own home. We did. I think back to the strength of my birth right. Over the years, many times helpless & homeless. I see myself fall into her light. Many times successful but failing each battle I fight. I see her in the mirrors of my sight. When 21, a grown woman in my own eyes. But no womanly talk from my birth right. That impossible feat that I yearned. So I shed 21 hours of tears that age 12 had not learned. My strength had not been evil or burned. It was, making her happy with my life that got me by. It was a spirit there saying it’s finally ok to cry. And that Mothers Day of 2010, with tears pouring from my face i saw the color of the sky. In my own eyes. -A Daughter. TJW.