BREAKAWAY MY FASH POETIC WORLD: PAPA WAS A ROLLING STONE’

momy' n her girlies'

Hello dears’

My post today celebrates family ties that bind us forever ‘Having been raised single handedly by a single mom’ i celebrate this woman in so many ways ‘Below is a kickass poem that totally made me believe that forgiveness is the only way we heal from some deeply etched wounds’ as i write this am tearing up so badly..i need to go get a hold of myself then pen the remaining bit down’ be sure to catch it here on Monday’

Nyc weekend y’all

“Honour thy mother” was the easy part. She was always there-my rock, my inspiration, my voice of reason.

But honour thy father,” a father who had, at best, dipped in and out of my 23 years, was the equivalent of puling an 18-wheeler uphill with my front teeth.

How do i honour someone who was never around?

Single Mother Struggle

To ALL my single mothers in this struggle: I SALUTE YOU
Cuz I know it ain’t easy doing what we do,
We wear so many hats that we sometimes get confused,
Listening to how others view you…
“She’s too independent, controlling and dominant” or
“She’s so strong, always handling her business”
what they don’t see… is you get weak too
but mastered the art of keeping it out of view
I haven’t come across anything harder
Than being forced into the role of mother and father
Because some brother decided not to bother
This isn’t the role that God assigned me
He gave man woman as a help meet
To help him meet the needs of our family and community
But instead; I’m the breadwinner
And when I get home from work, I’m cooking the bread for dinner
Trying to multiply it like Jesus did the fish and loaves
I’m cleaning the house, washing the clothes
Budgeting the finances, tracking where every penny goes
I’m the home repairwoman, the car mechanic
The calming voice to a child that’s frantic
The teacher, the counselor, the friend
The disciplinarian – this list has no end
I’m trying to raise a boy into a man
With no blueprint, no master plan
Just doing the best I can
Raising my daughter to be a queen
Carefully building her self-esteem
But this takes a team and I need you with me
Listen,
Adam bit the apple, heard God’s voice, ran and hid
Aware of his nakedness and embarrassed by what he did
That day in the garden, God yelled out, “Adam, where are you?”
Metaphorically speaking,
God was really asking, “Adam, What are you thinking?”
Adam’s first response was to shift the blame
Instead of doing a self-check then checking himself,
Adam blamed God for the woman He sent as help!
Adam stepped out of his role as head of household
Let Eve take control, despite what he was told
And ever since that day
Some brothers have been M.I.A.
Missing In Action, causing a chain reaction
Got the sistah’s asking,
“Brotha, where are you? What are you thinking?
Pull yourself together because the black family is sinking”
Stop telling me I don’t know what it’s like to be a man
And see me for who I really am!
I AM NOT your baby’s mama,
So you can stop all that drama
I am a mother chosen by God as a vessel of life
And I will not allow you to minimize me with that title
Some say I am jaded,
But I’m just trying to cope with picking up the slack from the brotha’s who faded
Sometimes I get tired and I start to cry
But no tears flow because my tears are dry
You left me and your seed on the front line
Unprotected and fighting to survive
So the next time you hear my, I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR
Hear deeper and go behind that door
You’ll hear my roar is really weeping
And it’s coming from deep within
My strength was born of my meekness
Forcing me to push back any signs of weakness
What you see is really a façade
Look closer brotha, I’m not that hard
Believe me, I want to put my guards down
But I’ve been doing this for so long that I just don’t know how
I have to get you to understand
That I’m ready to relinquish my role as a man
To a real man ready to stand up and be responsible
So I can re-learn my role and help us get through
I guess what I’m saying brotha, is we single mothers do need you
And it’s not going to be easy, it’s hard work
But we can heal together from our past hurts
Oh, and when my male traits kick in,
You know the ones that I was forced to live in
Gently bring it to my attention
Honest communication and trust can help a heart to mend
The door is open brotha…are you man enough to come in?

Deserie Johnson ©2005
Author of “Black Butterfly…Soaring on the Wings of Poetry”