nothing to manage

Saturday afternoon truth
told by thick brown hands,
stories of survival and struggle until both
sound like all the names of the black mamas in the neighborhood

Hymns and laughter
imparted in between sections of greased scalps
that smell like coconut or yesterday’s frying oil

Here, little girls get to disappear
feel their mother’s heart beat
as her fingertips massage away her little girl worries
of
not turning the jump rope fast enough
getting picked last during recess for dodge ball

on the floor between her mother’s legs
the little girl’s father appears in a new light
fresh and foul
like discounted gizzards
she learns why to save
why the pulled out back seat of her grandfather’s Cadillac is a
treasure in the garage

safe Saturday rituals become
sanctified Sunday religion
and all this from sitting in between her mother’s legs
getting her hair
did.

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My Grandmother’s Prayer

as parents

parents – (n) The hardest working person in the universe.

We can see beyond horizons and be as blind as bats.

We can hear as keen as owls and be as deaf as a day gone.

We can be energetically defeated.

parenting – (v) The hardest job in the universe.

I dare to say our most imminent goal is to ensure our children can live successful independent lives. And to make sure that goal stays in the forefront of our mind, we will do what we must. That includes perfect vision in a forest and closing our eyes in the light. As long as the goal is protected.

That is how I try to reach the parents of my students. Some of them have a spry and transparent engagement with the social and educational growth of their child. But the majority are only proactive towards their counsel to teachers on their personal goal and avoid any reactionary response on classroom feedback that does not comply with the said goal.

As a parent, I have had uncomfortable conversations in regards to the behavior of my three. And some have been the embarrassing repeated behaviors of “overly social”, “running in the hall” or “incomplete assignments.  I had to grow into a position with my parenting to concede that, the same behavior I correct them with at home, is the same tone they exhibit with other adults. So when I get phone calls and reports that my youngest, who only stops talking when she is sleep, is “overly social” in class, I believe it. I’m not sure what it is that shapes in parents heads that their child’s calamity somehow stops the second they enter the school building. If your child is flipping furniture at home, there is a 90.9% chance you child will come into the classroom and do the same.

the memories in February

My father died in February. Around the 22nd or so. I purposely misplaced the obituary and forgot the date.  It was the year 2008 or 2009. It was such a blur but I know I was living in Atlanta at the time.

He was my biggest fan but I didn’t know. He was consistent with inconsistency. Or maybe it’s “we” were consistent with inconsistency. But usually the child is allowed to blame the parent so I said “he”. We weren’t consistent like the hurricanes that you expect every year. We were more like tornadoes in the south. It can happen but it would be a surprise. Except we never made the news. Not together at least.  So that was the weather of our relationship.

I called in December, around the holidays cause that’s what you’re supposed to do. His girlfriend answered and told me he was dying. They had given him a few months to live. He told me he was dying a few years before that, so I kind of didn’t believe her. I can’t remember where he was or why she answered the phone. But then he picked up and said, “hello”.

nothing to manage

Saturday afternoon truth
told by thick brown hands,
stories of survival and struggle until both
sound like all the names of the black mamas in the neighborhood

Hymns and laughter
imparted in between sections of greased scalps
that smell like coconut or yesterday’s frying oil

Here, little girls get to disappear
feel their mother’s heart beat
as her fingertips massage away her little girl worries
of
not turning the jump rope fast enough
getting picked last during recess for dodge ball

on the floor between her mother’s legs
the little girl’s father appears in a new light
fresh and foul
like discounted gizzards
she learns why to save
why the pulled out back seat of her grandfather’s Cadillac is a
treasure in the garage

safe Saturday rituals become
sanctified Sunday religion
and all this from sitting in between her mother’s legs
getting her hair
did.

Article: Screw You, To-Do List

Screw You, To-Do List

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Her Side

She say for her family
she do what she can
when in reality it be for her
man / who wants a mother like her son

so she wipe both they asses and then her tears cause it be from the same shit

Too tired more/more tired than her mother who taught her how to stay
who lived and died the same way
the palm reader etched on her palm
now that she know/she can remain calm
when he come to bed smelling like fuck nut
and dried saliva.

He’ll say it’s all in her head
so she have nightmares of
forever being a fool.

from the book,

Copies available here

 

 

 

Article: 40 Words of Wisdom Every Parent Needs to Give Their Child

40 Words of Wisdom Every Parent Needs to Give Their Child

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that creative love

For the holidays my girls bought me a few things but the BEST was a coupon book they made for me.

They’re growing into their own little people so they give me a hard time with wanting to cuddle and hug and kiss on them. With that, they made me a coupon book so I can cash in on some time and I won’t get a fight from them.

Just one of those things that warms your heart 💖💜

Today in Charleston

You pick the words today… I’m speechless.

This art is from my amazing friend, Sage Gallon.
sagegallon.com