OUR GRANDMOTHERS

She lay, skin down on the moist dirt,
the canebrake rustling
with the whispers of leaves, and
loud longing of hounds and
the ransack of hunters crackling the near
branches.

She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward
freedom,
I shall not, I shall not be moved.

She gathered her babies,
their tears slick as oil on black faces,
their young eyes canvassing mornings of madness.
Momma, is Master going to sell you
from us tomorrow?

Yes.
Unless you keep walking more
and talking less.
Yes.
Unless the keeper of our lives
releases me from all commandments.
Yes.
And your lives,
never mine to live,
will be executed upon the killing floor of
innocents.
Unless you match my heart and words,
saying with me,

I shall not be moved.

In Virginia tobacco fields,
leaning into the curve
of Steinway
pianos, along Arkansas roads,
in the red hills of Georgia,
into the palms of her chained hands, she
cried against calamity,
You have tried to destroy me
and though I perish daily,

I shall not be moved.

Her universe, often
summarized into one black body
falling finally from the tree to her feet,
made her cry each time in a new voice.
All my past hastens to defeat,
and strangers claim the glory of my love,
Iniquity has bound me to his bed,

yet, I must not be moved.

She heard the names,
swirling ribbons in the wind of history:
nigger, nigger bitch, heifer,
mammy, property, creature, ape, baboon,
whore, hot tail, thing, it.
She said, But my description cannot
fit your tongue, for
I have a certain way of being in this world,

and I shall not, I shall not be moved.

No angel stretched protecting wings
above the heads of her children,
fluttering and urging the winds of reason
into the confusion of their lives.
They sprouted like young weeds,
but she could not shield their growth
from the grinding blades of ignorance, nor
shape them into symbolic topiaries.
She sent them away,
underground, overland, in coaches and
shoeless.
When you learn, teach.
When you get, give.
As for me,

I shall not be moved.

She stood in midocean, seeking dry land.
She searched God's face.
Assured,
she placed her fire of service
on the altar, and though
clothed in the finery of faith,
when she appeared at the temple door,
no sign welcomed
Black Grandmother. Enter here.

Into the crashing sound,
into wickedness, she cried,
No one, no, nor no one million
ones dare deny me God. I go forth
alone, and stand as ten thousand.

The Divine upon my right
impels me to pull forever
at the latch on Freedom's gate.

The Holy Spirit upon my left leads my
feet without ceasing into the camp of the
righteous and into the tents of the free.

These momma faces, lemon-yellow, plum-purple,
honey-brown, have grimaced and twisted
down a pyramid of years.
She is Sheba and Sojourner,
Harriet and Zora,
Mary Bethune and Angela,
Annie to Zenobia.

She stands
before the abortion clinic,
confounded by the lack of choices.
In the Welfare line,
reduced to the pity of handouts.
Ordained in the pulpit, shielded
by the mysteries.
In the operating room,
husbanding life.
In the choir loft,
holding God in her throat.
On lonely street corners,
hawking her body.
In the classroom, loving the
children to understanding.

Centered on the world's stage,
she sings to her loves and beloveds,
to her foes and detractors:
However I am perceived and deceived,
however my ignorance and conceits,
lay aside your fears that I will be undone,

for I shall not be moved.

By: Maya Angelou 
(out of the book a Heart of a Woman) 

One step at a time

A reason, a season or a lifetime?

Been thinking of the many people who have come and gone in and out of my life over the past 27 years, now I realise how very necessary each of them were. Some came for reasons, some stayed a season or two and a few have given me a lifetime of memories.

A number of them came into my life when I was confused and showed me the way or directed me on a different path, some came into my life to mirror the roads not to take and share their scars. A few came to contribute to my reflections of self and the world while others came to invigorate my minds and teach me to dream bigger and be bolder.

Many came for a season or two; to take me through a test, a trial, to share in my joys and sorrows for that particular time period. Then subtly they or I would move on and find new roads and lives to contribute too, a unique cycle of life.

There are those very few who last a lifetime; for me they are the ones who I share a silent bond with even if I don’t talk to them often. They tend to be the ones I turn to in sadness, the ones who know what I love to drink and hate to eat. The people I share my adventures and my somewhat crazy “PLANS” with.

I realise that with all of my “a reason, a season or a lifetime” kind of friends I share uniquely fond memories of different times, different places and a somewhat different version of me.

Today's Reminder...

Life and Light

When i saw the picture for some reason it made me thing of the a verse on Annie where she sings... "The sun'll come out Tomorrow, Bet your bottom dollar that Tomorrow there'll be sun! Just thinking about Tomorrow clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow...."

With that i realize that Life isn’t a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, latte in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ‘Woohoo WHAT A RIDE’!

AHA, finding it.....

At some point in our lives we have all looked for signs; signs on whether we have made the correct choice? signs on whether we can do the job? signs on whether this is it.....

Our search for some divine intervention for that little bit of courage to push on is endless. 

This morning i stumbled onto this picture and it resonate that "This is it", sometimes we cannot see the signs because we are too strung up in the actions or have a preconceived notion of what the sign should be. 

Unfortunately these signs may never come in the ways we want them to, so don't spend all of your time looking for signs that might be right in-front of you; live your life, learn new things, love even when it hurts and soldier on. 

If it ends up being the wrong road start over and consider the past lessons and stepping stones to greater things, this is it afterall. 

"JOY"

This morning driving to work i was reminded that "Joy" can be found in the most simplistic things, it's all in how we look at it. The Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore once wrote: 

And Joy is Everywhere;
It is in the Earth's green covering of grass;
In the blue serenity of the Sky;
In the reckless exuberance of Spring;
In the severe abstinence of gray Winter;
In the Living flesh that animates our bodily frame;
In the perfect poise of the Human figure, noble and upright;
In Living;
In the exercise of all our powers;
In the acquisition of Knowledge;
in fighting evils...

Joy is there Everywhere.