Mornings are that rough snooze I barely miss. It’s the
huge stretch after knees crack to remind me age is but a
loose sound of movement. It’s a dragging feeling, a
reminder to when my laughter teased Father Time.
It is peaceful, knowing my mental foundation wasn’t a pretty
make over but these years of painful lessons I massage into
my seasons, and when I fall, I’m quick to spring back to my
youthful visage. I mean, winter brings pain, the death of
beauty and the crystallization of movement. Yet summer can
always be seen stretching my soul like it’s uplifted. One
moment I hyperventilate the other I’m free falling to the
bottom of freedoms pool of love. A love for the sensation of
old age being the companion I’ve wanted since my youth.
These astral phases become astral projections of the peace that
I recall seeing. This Growth is the key to my happiness, it’s
the years which times before turned the sun dial and I became
the time father dreamed of.

I DON’T HAVE PTSD
[in Southernspeak]

When I wake up in the mornin’
most any day
everything isn’t broken
lying about in ashen heaps, the smell
his buddies dead or dyin’
one smokin’ wheel of the sideways chopper still turnin’.

I can have
an already-always appreciation
of a new day. Most any mornin’
rain, or sun peering at me
there’s blue sky in between the clouds
and the coffee is good.

I don’t have to clean up empties
or wipe up dog poo cause I didn’t let it out
in time
that time of not bein’ to forget, all encompassing.

My good friend has it tho
and it never fully leaves him
the self recrimination either
whar forgiveness ain’t
nor the compassion jus’ be missin’
he fight this time an’ next for the clear blue.

My friend has seen mor’ o’ the dyin’
than I will ever
even after a career of hospital intensive care work
where my role in it were to stop tha’ dying.
His was to cause it, that ther’ black
when we look each other in tha’ eye, we know.

Dear Unsealed Family,

It would be off-putting if I didn’t stress that I’m not a overly intelligent
person when it comes to relationships with a divine creator. It is of the most
importance to me that I find something, something that was written or
spoken to help me define this world. This world that for most of my
existence I’ve experienced envelopes of deeply rooted detachments to my
own soul. I was lost, expecting the world to bend to the truth that a
melanated child like myself had some special qualities or traits which only I
have to make me aware of the sudden effects of this particular butterfly that
I’am. I found myself being classified as aberrant, corpulent and numerous
other adjectives one as Juvenile as myself would find Detrimental. It broke
my will to live being that my father’s side of the family and classmates
made me feel that I was impotent, a mundane atom of wasted potential.
It wasn’t just with words used but non-verbal cues that emptied my belief in
myself and this world. It felt as if I was a Homicide not to gang wars but
between family and Societal estrangement. The only peace I had was the
way silence had my back. It was in those moments of silence that
volunteered violence creeped into my mind. These thoughts started to
become folklore to my young mind and harmony with harm became my
only friend. A forever companion that I couldn’t forget, and I walked the
streets of depression alone. When going to school the subway became my
way to ensure a quite exit from this world. I would every day press my face
near the edge of deaths door and at a split second pull back to feel a bit of
what death was like. At the time I didn’t know what a suicidal thought was
or that I had for most of my childhood been a threat to myself. I was
fighting the thought of my being and the anxiety of the words of external
pressures, their shadows slowly stalking my mind. But it was one thing that
made me realize a rather strange feeling I been longing for like the love of
Eros to the desire desperately to feel noticed. I was in my 7th grade art class
and we was creating pottery and could etch anything into the sides of our
clay pots. I stumbled upon images that reflected my interest in my culture. I
picked up Egyptian hieroglyphs and in the process something drew me
towards those pieces of paper. It was if I’ve resonated with those images
that they were a part of my soul and have been for quite a long time. So I
used them on my mug and ashtray, but it didn’t stop there. When computer
class started I would research these hieroglyphs in an attempt to further my
understanding of why these things had such a profound impact on my
young mind. This is when my eyes began opening, looking like a full moon
juxtaposed to the dark mood-less sky. I saw melanated individuals who took
the wind from me. I always wondered why I never saw anybody that looked
like me on the television and if I did, they were mostly athletes or
musicians. it wasn’t until the day that I saw the Egyptians that I knew that
there was more to my people and my heritage. I had the biggest smile on
my face, my shoulders relaxed and my soul, my soul felt whole. I always
believed that my history began and ended at slavery, that I was and always
will be just a N-Word to my self, my people and to other cultures that knew
their story, but now I knew mines as well. It was when I learned that piece
of time not explained to us in the history books that I made a decision to
father study my own history. So to this day I reach for further guidance
from my ancestors and look at them to show self pride in myself. I know
that when I’m down or have thoughts to do harm or anything else I can
meditate on the matter with them and they will find an answers. I’am not a
N-word or any other label someone could describe me as,I’am called Negus
now which is Ethiopian royal title that was historically used to refer to the
monarch or ruler of Ethiopia. I’am happy, I’am love, I’am whole and I’am
grateful to be a melanated soul on this earth.

Always grateful,
Rashan Speller

Othe to mothers bearings are told
Sacral plexus so early misused
Diverted attention from nurture to crood egregores pursued
A time came around when the angelic realms, decided to bind with my trickle through hell
Creating life, something so freely exploited
An american dream, but that topics forthgoing
Awakened me emotionally, spiritually, as the intellectual so divinely imported
Balancing the Yin & the Yang, as a single mother always must do
Digging within opened my eyes to this new world for two
My Sienna so savvy yet sweet as the glow in suckle
My Diveena so innovative yet daring like a puck in the huddle
Sacral plexus so early made me a God, or should I say Goddess and not be far off
Creating a world forever embedded with beauty
Defined by the words divinity~loom~agape love~genuity

I bleed rainbows and cry stars

I find community in bars

I was sorrow, I was sin

I denied myself to win

I was lonely and unsure

But no longer immature

I am love and I am strong

I am fearless in my song

I don’t care what others think

And I’ll raise another drink

To brave souls that came before

And blew the locks upon the doors

I am free and I run wild

Like the art made by a child

No remorse and no regret

What you see is what you get

Walk with me and feel my pride

And you will enjoy the ride

Of vibrant life and color burst

Without hunger, without thirst

I am technicolor smile

It just took me but a while

Now I am “alternative”

Let me love and let me live

I think a question that a lot of us ask in the post break-up mess is

Why do they get to move on so quickly when they hurt me? Why is it so easy for them to find someone new as if nothing even happened?

I’ve realized that the answer is present inside the question.

They.
Hurt.
You.

You were the one left traumatized by their action or inaction. Their manipulation and abuse. You are the one left with the healing to do and the pieces to put back together again.

To them, the new girl is just another caught in their path. They’re not moving on, they’re just moving along toward the next source of energy they can drain. The next pretty thing that can make them feel okay bc looking for external validation is always easier for the unhealed, uncaring, and unbothered than just taking time to look inside. They don’t care, and they never will, until the day comes where she gives him that stare.

Manipulation and codependency are not on your registry. They’re not a part of your energy and are far off your radar. It’s not taking you “too long” to move on. You’ve been drug through the depth of hell and have clawed your way back out tooth and nail. So why wouldn’t you take precarious caution and detailed attention into your next ‘mate’?

They’re just moving on to the next,
we are building our future.
We are laying down our foundations to success & prosperity in all fields.

Anything that doesn’t bring us peace
Is a liability that we cannot afford
because we’ve already gambled away too much of our time, too much of our spirit, and too much of our love to only end here.
We are looking for partners and plans.
(…and the occasional one night stand bc we’re all human here 😉)

But we don’t dare waste our time with another who only intends to use us to fill the voids they refuse to heal themselves. We heal ourselves so we never become them and never put anyone else through what they put us though. We are walking illustrations of selflessness, patience, and unconditional love.

Deep down inside, we know this time is meant to love ourselves unconditionally. So when the right one comes along, their love will only add to the self-love that’s already strong inside of us. It won’t need to complete us, because we are complete on one own. We aren’t 1/2, we are the whole and we are all the better for it too.

So my love,
Please know that true love
Genuine love
Unconditionally
Healthy love
Is already abundant inside of you
And when the time is just right,
He’ll come along and add his share too. <3

After the loss of my mother-in-law, my youngest daughter brought up the topic of starting to wear the hijab (a scarf that covers the hair, denoting our humbled nature towards God, and empowering our rights to protect our modesty in a world filled with immodesty). As a mother, who wanted to give my daughter a better chance at a larger pool of the ‘marriage mart’, my husband and I convinced her to wait. However, she brought up my inner need to wear the hijab myself and be a better practicing Muslim, because the hijab is a constant reminder of my connection to God. By wearing it, I’m reminded to always be grateful for what I have, not to envy what others do, work harder to achieve my desires within the dictates, rules and regulations given to Muslims through the Quoraan. I’ve also found that the acceptance I’ve received in this Western Country, Canada, was overwhelmingly positive and empowered me to stay the course of my beliefs. Now, I’m proud to say that my struggle to strengthen my belief is a daily occurrence, that I do my best not fall under its depressing weight. Struggling to unite people through the hijab is an uplifting experience, as one shares their experiences and problems, which in turn help others find solutions for their own set of issues.
My favorite comment when people meet me, is that I have a certain glow to my face that comes from the power of my faith.

Dear, Unsealers:

The following poem is a flashback to November 2015…

In the early morning hours
I stepped off the plane in Madrid
After a long, turbulent flight across the Atlantic

As I see the window ahead of me
I’m on the other side, en el Aeropuerto Barajas
With daylight yet to break

It doesn’t look like I’m in Spain
But indeed I am!

All the waiting and anticipation led here
To these eight days, my first trip away from home
Madrid, Toledo, Granada, Sevila & Cordoba await

To think, this wouldn’t have happened
If I wasn’t told months earlier, “no”.

I didn’t know it then….
I would learn to love traveling solo, joining group trips

This was a celebration of turning thirty!

It’s March. Spring is starting to peek through the clouds.
I’m trying to move slow. I’m trying to be easy.
I’m working hard just to breathe.
I’m pining for control over my own body,
My autonomy feels out of reach.

I am reminded how I felt at sixteen, when I made the choice to starve.
Then I am reminded of the Palestinian children and men and women,
Dark eyes pleading while they wither away,
Bombs reflected back into our view.
I am humbled.

I am not the same as I once was.
Gratitude exists, albeit forced at times.
Growth and healing is an active choice.
I let myself transform.