February 2, 2024

Self-Reflection

To be honest, I haven’t seen myself like this before… Embodying who I really am at core.

Valuing depth in connections… While being open for correction, my mind & heart is on one accord.

I am emotionally secured, more matured and all of that for sure.

Loving OUT LOUD, as my intentions are pure. “Lub- Dup” a sound that beats enough to end a war!

Feeling through moving waters, as it balances my reflection against the sun’s glow.

Unshakeable Ms. Mountain on a hill. Aware

that resting here is not always comfortable as I’d hope for.

Recently, I’ve discovered a string of things that tries to somehow still hold me back… so, I ask how deep does my layers lie? Is it really intact?

Home, going within the house to unpack…Alarming? I must have forgotten the code being too tough of a shell to crack. No one is perfect, I’m steadily learning to embrace that.

I was built from love, while ego tries to misplace it.

Splitting while the foundation crumbles, I had to see it through to heal and learn from my mistakes before molding something other.

I choose to look at the scars to face what I see within.

That’s both the beautiful and ugly which once knocked me down, just to get back up again because I love me. Acting with love. . . that takes courage!!! “Me-time” of self care to well nourish

I always state that “Love is maintenance” believing that I am more than worthy of it. The pain of discipline sometimes would take me under

From set backs, memories and dysfunction. Carrying me is the love that started from somewhere ethereal, way before my Grandmother’s comfort.

I rediscovered, no wonder who I am when I did encounter God! Open invitation, accepting the fact that I can love my self like this, without conceit… Really? Wow!!!

It’s still no excuse for me to be naïve while re-learning who I am, from whom I once known

myself to be… that’s something!

I am both Zen & Lit. Sharpened, yet humbled with a bit of bumble… I’m ready to rumble, if I am called to sting… solidly vibrates just as a bell rings

Gracefully open for arriving at my own timing. It’s so nice to finally be here!

The woman that the child within in me could not wait to meet. The poetic, romantic… the dancer who swiftly sways, right and left feet.

As we harmonize with love, I give thanks in advance while loving even more of the lady I am becoming…Continue on love because you’re on to something!

Best,

-Self

As readers, we thrive off of a morally grey character. In their flaws we see our own, and therefore feel known. It’s a beautiful thing when you can form a connection with them, walk through worlds with them. Stop and analyze their hazel eyes where you’ll notice a familiar glow. The love felt for a morally grey character isn’t because of their faults, and it isn’t despite of them either. A character’s poor decision is followed with watchful eyes. Eyes that resemble our own. Eyes that follow the page the way a mother watches a child. Watching every trip and every triumph.
The love for a morally grey character is felt because you can’t paint skies of grey with nothing but white paint. A flooded brush of white will only ever bring white. It’s when you begin mixing paints that you start forming shapes. How beautiful a foggy day, and the depth it creates. Why then, shouldn’t we love ourselves in the same way? It is not because of my best qualities or achievements that I love myself, nor for my mistakes. Without the bold slashes of charcoal and specks of gold, without the smudges of green under a clouding bronze, these eyes wouldn’t be hazel, and they wouldn’t be mine. I love myself as I am, a beautiful and messy combination of my merits and my flaws- because I am grey.

As I write this, it’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day, a day to celebrate love.

The phrase that comes to mind when pondering what love is – is “others,” aka being generous to someone else, as in NOT me. It is about making others happy.

When it comes to me, associating SELF with the word LOVE is as common as someone who doesn’t like Chinese food – very, very, VERY uncommon.

When the number reads 14, and the month reads February, for me, being single, the day is reserved for images of dark clouds and drooping flowers, instead of a rainbow perfectly expressing your range of beautiful emotions, whoever you are romantically attached to.

Reserving a table at your favorite restaurant, celebrating the day reserved to enjoy your significant others company is my personal definition of this day.

So, you can see why, as a single person, MY viewpoint of this day is filled with clouds and drooping flowers instead of the voraciously vibrant red roses.

I could point out a list of adjectives as large as jumbo popcorn: envy and sadness are a couple of kernels to explain how I feel about not having someone I am smitten over sitting on the other side of the table, making me feel that I’m with the only one and everyone at the same time.

Skewed and as untrue as it might be, having the one would make me feel whole. That said, as I am writing this, I am learning a very important lesson… there is a reason we have both iced and hot coffee.

So, with that, I’ll stop bringing out the appetizers and get to the main course: the reservation might be for two, just remember, adding a +1 does not mean you stop loving you, and self-love is love that NO person can give to you except ONE.. YOU!

And by the way, to my future Valentine (girlfriend) – since we love both of ourselves equally, we are splitting the cup because your self-love and my self-love is equally important to me and you.

Saved A Little Love For Me

When the one you love leaves you behind–
walks away–

you quickly realize
people never stay.

That there is all but one soul
from which you can never run away.

So I look for signs of art–
trying to decipher my own heart.

And that’s a start?

Making peace with what I find
all in due time.

Shoutout to the, “Let yourself hurt”
people.

No thanks to the, “Love yourself first”
people.

They can’t make me love myself.

I should
so, I do?

Can’t be helped
so, I’m screwed?

No.

See,
I don’t know (for sure)
what love is.

So I’ll write what I do
and I’ll do it alone.

“Withhold and explode
or write what you know—

there’s no greater loss
than a story untold.”

With these words,
I’ve built a home

for my art,
my dream,
my heart.

They’re the ink behind my pen.

Because words on a page
beat life’s stage
time and time again.

“Any love reserved for me
is a love reserved for trying.”

People come & go that much I know
If I take off these rose colored glasses
Does the love around turn to grey
How does one know how love is really portrayed?
Is it chocolates or roses in a bouquet?

I wake up & wonder will I ever find my true love? Find the one?
All this love pent up inside me
If I were to grant it away
what could we become?

Taken into account my every flaw mistake & dream
I am the only one who decides where my love is given
& I choose the life in which I am living
Not only that, but who can say I’m not enough
If I, myself, have prevailed through times that are tough
Who better by my side
Who better to stand tall
Who better to proclaim all the traits to see for all
Who better understands my feelings
Who better than I?
A desire to live a life fulfilled
To allow myself the love while everyone else kneels
In a non supreme way
It’s my self-love placed on a pedestal everyday
A tad egotistical, possibly
Uh, conceited? respectfully
My worth of self & merited love is synonymous
I wanna heal my heart
I wanna follow through
No more broken promises

My body is my vessel
Kept safe for me to nestle
Once, twice put in danger
I’m the only one who can make me feel safer

A declaration of solitude & independence
for only a man can stand by me
with leadership & competence
for my heart & body recognize I’m safe in this instance
To entrust in you is no small feat
It is a privilege to see me &
Have access to my energy
The love you give me has the ability to resonate so clearly

I desire not to fit your idea of perfection
View me as an empress to be in selection
May you only approach with chivalry
Then I’m happy to oblige
But certainly do not consider me your prize
When it comes to my ego, let that be its’ demise
I’m presented as a Lady
To address me as anything but is not a reflection of how I’m behaving

If all these men are blind, I’ll reminisce back to my childhood & rewind
If they taint my perception of love, my own fairytale stays aligned

They say law of attraction
But I have concern, even hesitation
Can this really come true
With a snap of a finger
With a wave of a magic wand
Where in the universe
Will these affirmations belong
Lo & behold the universe is inside me
If what I desire is to manifest
I have to release control
& let this ego burn a slow death

Is it my frizzy hair
Or my unsmooth skin
All admirable yet vain
It’s my true love within
Pampering, luxury, & care are all high in demand
Please, universe, bless me if I were look to for a man

Dear Unsealers, (poem entry, not a letter)

when it should have been the beating, red vessel sandwiched between my outside eyes

if it were for the before days when society was feeling abandoned

where the imposter we saw in the shadows were terrified news hosts and burnt out brethren retiring from their zoom calls

i would have have fallen further beneath the undertow

but the continued dance of shaking hands and friendly smiles made the chain of events commence

and i began to embrace it:

my lips exhale the affirmed words of safety

the stares of the narrow-minded turn into LED bulbs-

hang on… there might be something here

open-mindedness is taking off its apron, rushing to greet me at the door,
i used to get nervous having company

but i have become my own best friend

i can snuggle in safety, buckle in my seatbelt as my brain indicates to me i have permission to slow down and pump the breaks – once i have learned to drive

i can touch my 8 x 11, knowing every jagged line is a mountain, ripple, pique and valley of a memory burned through trial and error-

my oddly favorite smell, a worked-out body

the feeling of ecstasy after nailing an impromptu choreography routine, loving the expressions i feed the mirror

i can now ignore the lights getting brighter, signaling my ending is near

and sure, i am only but a human. i have always seen where i’ve faltered, lacked, detracted. but i can feel myself become something grander – like a human version of a wind-up toy

i’ve accepted my body as a vessel, an input output machine like gradeschool homework, correcting my body when i set my skin on fire-

*takes a breath*

i have eczema

i’m slowly conquering the line between conceit and self-awareness

discovered obsessive sorries are empty pockets of exoneration

i replaced apprehension for curiosity, my pulse now beating within reason as the flicker of answered questions make way

“what’s that?” is now celebrated, not mocked with disgust by the random grump on the street

i recognize myself. really.

i’ve changed “i’m so pretty” to “there you are… i’ve been looking everywhere for you.

wow. you are magnified.

here’s your handle.

now hold on tight. you’re only going up.”

Love,
Me (Meghan Dhawan)

It’s been hard,
such is true and certainly
nothing new.
Through
it all, we get complimented
for being strong, resilient
fighting the struggle
and remaining resistant
As a “Strong Black Woman”
who’s had enough of it
Well, I love you
for your ferocious grip
on peace and play
Your insistence on
Loving the tiniest things
of the day like
breakfast outside with
S’mores and a chance to
cosplay, everything whimsical
Mermaids and mushroom
circles. Rest. Feast. Taking
time to cook, and eat
For fighting to keep
the inner child alive, intentional
Happy and contentment
that strives to seek out
the pleasures
Money can’t buy
A joy well nourished and kempt
cannot be made to die.
I love your artistic
spirit and inquisitive mind,
Your thirst for knowledge
and insatiable curiosity
Determined to live and witness
so much of what you studied
and turn concepts into reality
Your ability to make lush
pieces out of simple moments
and resistance to simpleness
Shameless cringe,
proudly extravagant
(even though you
need to overthink less)
Realism and universal
consideration
self acceptance
And allowing yourself to love,
be loved, believe in better
and shed bitterness
Casting a thorough, positive attentiveness
on the people around you.
Keep growing
Keep doing
Keep learning
Keep living
And I’ll reinvent
my thank you

You remind me of a rainbow, shining bright and beautiful after a storm. How light can be found in even the darkest of times. Storms may blow through, causing mass destruction, yet there you are colored with glee. Despite it all, you never fail to shine. Each stripe painted of your rainbow projects the creativity held deep within. Much like a chameleon, you never fail to embrace your surroundings. Casting a positive light in the midst of chaos. Such a simple, magical, being you are. Sunsets, starry nights, the smell of morning dew in the beginning of spring, they all remind me of you. However, you too remind me of a cold dark winter day. Somber skies with an overcast of gloom. Although melancholy lurks through the air, you bring a sense of comfort and home. A sense of safety. Almost as if you were an alternate reality, an escape room if you will. You’ve been battered and bruised but you are still here thriving. The beauty comes from being able to navigate this challenging maze of life, and always coming out with a better sense of self even when you wanted to give up. Inspirational resilience. Nonetheless, bright and beautiful, or cold and dark, you are always yourself, never giving up – and for that I love you.

JOURNEY BACK HOME
I realize now, that I AM worth fighting for.
Not others fighting for me, but I am worth it to fight for myself, and in doing that I refuse to go back to the things, and people that have broke me time and time again.

I refuse to allow anything, or anyone, to mold me into who, or what, they want, or need, me to be, because I have now set boundaries.

I love myself enough to quit certain habits, and in return understand who I am, and why I feel the need to run away from myself, to face myself, to find love in myself, and respect for myself.

I’m still pretty new to this journey, and I’m not sure if there is one single ultimate outcome to this transition, but I do know that the more I love myself, to see myself, my body, my flaws, my scars with the same eyes that a mother has when her son has returned back home safe from the streets, and this time for good, I kind of just want to kick my dirty, sole worn shoes off and leave them outside of the door before coming back home to myself, because it is a dirty world out there.

My heart is sacred.
It has loved so many others without being loved back and in return, it has shattered time and time again, leaving me empty, but I show up for myself today to fill my cup back up, and take a good old sip of a tea I like to call self love.

I kind of just want to take a hot bath, and cook myself a good meal, something that I like and enjoy to nourish my body, because I deserve that.

I find myself now often times listening to songs and turn the volume all the way up, because the song makes my soul soar, and it allows inspiration to flow through me like nothing else can.

It’s so nice no longer worrying if the song is too loud for others, it’s so nice not walking on broken glass when it comes to displeasing others wants, expectations, and needs from me.

It has taken me 30 years to realize that I am enough, and then some.
That I am beautiful, if it wasn’t for my darkest hours in life I wouldn’t shine as bright as I do today, and with that I am able to be a guiding light for those who are where I used to be.

And sometimes I look back at that girl, who stood there alone just trying to seek validation from others, who wanted nothing more than to use up every fiber of her being, and I give her a hug.

Going back and giving that lost soul a hug is what has taught me about self love more than anything, because I show up today as the same person she needed then, but didn’t have it in herself at the time to be that for herself.

The day that I set boundaries and quit allowing people to use me I quit looking for validation from strangers, and I have in return built up the courage to tell the one looking back at me that she is worth it, that she is strong, that she is loved, because I love her.
I look back at pieces of myself I have shed along the way, and each bit of what has made me the woman that I am today.

I’m not afraid to say no.

Not afraid to distance myself from anything that no longer serves me.
I’m not afraid to speak my mind.
I’m no longer bending myself out of shape just to be what someone else wants me to be, or needs me to be.

-Who do you love?

-My partner, my family, my friends.

The list goes on, and even mere strangers make the cut.
And sadly enough, you forget the greatest love of all:
Self-Love.

If only they taught it to us in school.
Just as important as Math and Science,
Language Arts and yes, Health 101.

“When I get married…”
Those words echo through the school’s halls.
Young girls and women engraved to believe,
That we are not complete on our own.
To even the most romantic phrases like
“mi media naranja,” or “haf-orange” if you know what I mean.

Loving yourself is a life skill.
In searching for another’s acceptance and so-called love,
risk of losing your self-worth.
Is it worth it?

You deserve better.
Just love yourself first.
Sounds easy to me,
Until I remember the hardships endured by the women in my family.
Their sacrifice, my lessons.

Loving myself took some years.
I was single for a very long while.
First kiss, I think I was 21.
Some dates, complicated -ships, and even one night stands.
Nothing serious
because truth be told,
I was always happy by myself.

How did I do it?
Not even I know, but I suspect I was forced to learn to love myself
when my mom passed away.
Patience with my healing, setting boundaries, surviving.
Gradually wanting more for myself.
A love of my own: Self-love.
Then, a love of life.
Everything else
they say, falling into place.
First relationship and love at 29.
Shocking in this society.

Was it perfect timing?
What about fate?
Soulmates?
I will never know.
I adore my love and even then he knows my code.

Grief has shown me,
Whispered in my ear,
“Don’t base your life on another human being.”
I lost my mom and for a second believing,
I no longer wanted to live.
Insisting it’s different from wanting to die,
It IS different but still terrifying.
The journey taught me to be content
With just me.
Solitude, my beautiful companion.
Everything else,
a huge blessing.

My alone time,
so dear to me.
Just as important as family time, date nights, and work.
It’s something that my soul so desperately needs.
Practicing self-love,
the most important lesson to be learned.

I love myself.
These words replace the others before.
I love myself for believing in me.
For choosing happiness despite the mishappenings.
For ignoring the negativity, the people calling me naive.
I love just that,
the optimist in me.

Brown skin with a little red tint
That is Mahogany
Not L. Browne or Boogie
But Me —- Ms. Mahogany
So there’s no misconceptions
I’m not on no rap shit
titles , judgements, ideologies
And misbeliefs
Just me
Let me repeat
I am she
Not HER
Me
Shall I repeat
Not Ri, Not Tey or Bey
but me, Mahogany
Started believing your lies
and forced projections

Pardon me I must admit
I started drifting
Born gifted
Now here I am trying to escape my own mind
No longer questioning why
Cross my T’s and wipe my eyes
Don’t question I
This self love
Is very selfish B,
Kiss my ass adhd ptsd and odc
And anyone else I let abuse me
Fuck those naysayers and acronyms
My name starts with an M
& ends with a why
And that’s for Mahogany
I could never forget my reason why
Let me repeat
Mahogany
The Magnificent amazing Hogany
Out goes any other definition
Of this queen
That doesn’t align with this brown girl
Mahogany
Real sheen
& serene
This dream
Means so much to me
Love yours, always Mahogany!

When I’m asked why do I love myself, I felt my eyes start watering and my throat closing. I am a child that has been asked to stand up in front of the class and introduce myself on the first day of school and all of a sudden I don’t know my name or fun fact. I can’t decide which part of me I love the most, the detachment issues I developed at 16 or the anger issues I inherited from my bloodline. I’m supposed to be writing about all of the things I love about me and I came up with the list of what I learned to hate until I heard her.
I hear a seven year old girl running home from the bus stop dodging the sticks and stones boys were throwing at her. She’s crying. They called her stupid, telling her she’s ugly and hitting her. I see her. Caramel skin, curls braided up into two pigtails with purple bobos, a heart of innocent gold. I kneel to her and tell her how beautiful she is and there is not a single thing I wouldn’t do for her. I wipe tears off of rosy cheeks and hold her, turning sniffles into soft smiles.
I hold this girl so tight hoping if we mend into one person then she never has to feel alone or unwanted.. She never deserved to feel alone or unwanted. Sometimes I still have to hold that girl today. I have to sit and tell her she’s pretty when the world around her is throwing sticks and stones. I have to hold my little girl tight even when the stones are thrown from inside the house. I have to remind her she is smart, she is successful, she is loved by many …but especially by me.
I may be a result of my trauma but I am the hug, love, and comfort that my little girl needed and how could I ever hate that.

Found at 11:01,
from my heart I have sung.
Bid and by, here and deny,
this one recalls,
anothers mind and life scrabbled,
on the wall,
ignorant to a souls call.
Charted, parts,
seperate she followed,
through the maze of a forest,
scared by all the voices before us,
frightened by what they said,
judging her, madly upset.
Profuciously obsessed,
was a broken mess,
held together by thread and glue,
a young mortal,
overcombered by truth.
What was the truth,
not even elders knew.
So, at 11:09,
I recognize the blind,
ackowledge the little,
in front of my soul,
weightless free,
showing her gold.
11:11….
the universe told…
What have you child,
but a mask to wear,
afraid at every tear?
Afraid, why are you so,
if your heart is of gold?
Look within now,
of course they want a pretty soul,
that’s why you must face them,
the voices that scold.
Don’t you see,
the one afraid is really me?
They are you, you are me,
and I’m telling you,
you are free.
See the forest?
See the door?
See the shattered glass lying on the floor?
It is but your illusion,
you’ve ran from their disgrace,
but once you see within,
you’ll see the truth,
something you must face,
you are beautiful, my love,
to be a part of this human race!
…..
I love you. They love you. You love you.
……
Shall we end it here, my dear?
Everything you do,
it is for growth, even tears.
Everything you see is but an experience here.
Be as silent and contagious as love.
Loud and obnoxious,
courageous and spotless,
messy and all those things.
Love is us. Love is you.
So, how could you possibly,
run from that truth?
11:23,
easy as 123.
How could I not love myself?
I am everything all of us love and yet deny,
both warm and heartless inside,
ugly and beautiful,
angelic and nightmarish,
generic and brandish,
a hot cup of tea,
dark coffee,
I am me and everything in between.
There is everything to love,
genuinely.
~Markita Wright 2/15/2024 11:23pm
Have a Good Night!

Vibrant butterflies circled around my ancient family tree. Without permission, tired of their mission being belittled, they invaded my soul with wings of light on the day I was born, to warn that those of my past were ignorant and never listened to their message. With me, they are violent, for they would rather fade away than watch another generation pay in life for the traumas of their ancestors.

In me, they find a new vessel. Butterflies, relentless and free guiding me through ancestry.

In the sky around that tree, their beauty can’t hide. But in my gut, their wings disrupt. As they disturb my digestion I understand better how they are corrupt. With cunning masked, they seem so pure. They often test my naivety, making me believe I don’t need food.

When they enter through the throat, they block the passage of my saliva. Resting on my cords, my voice they seize. Speechless, I’m left, at risk, unease. At night they keep me awake visiting heavy memories and unfulfilled dreams. They make me dream of soaring high, yet fail to warn before I fly. To touch the sky, I must first crawl, like caterpillar, dirt and all. Breaking the bubble, setting me free, only then can I truly be.

Sometimes they manage to enter my being while I sleep, and their fluttering is the first thing I feel long before I hear the alarm ring. My heart, it races to their tune. A drumbeat in a quiet room.

They migrate towards my legs and tickle me so much, that they push me into an abyss where they deprive me of the tranquility of the present. Thrown into nowhere, lost in the mist, alone with my thoughts, on a journey I twist. No maps can guide this path unseen.

Scientists name it the future.

These creatures gifted me a prize; the gift to feel beneath the skies. A potent weapon, oft unseen, the power to grasp what life may mean. Once seen as a curse, now I reveal; It’s true worth, my life’s appeal, the title of my story, and the salvation of my future generation. What I once interpreted as a wicked spell has turned into light, guiding me through the darkest nights.

The butterflies only punish me when I resist and refuse to discover the reason for their visit.

They are merciless when I confine them in a box and try to manipulate the direction of their route. I try to control, but lose the race. The universe yields when I let go and dance in their flow. The drum melody sung by the beats of my heart never allows me to waste a second on this earth, where what is bland to many is the root of a great story for me. Butterflies guide, with their flight, and only in their rhythm I find delight.

My organs call it anxiety. I call them butterflies because they teach me how to fly in a world where one can only walk.

Butterflies, hidden gems I’ll forever posses, the only thing I love about myself.

I like the way
You get gripped
In the palms of a man
Ravenous in his pursuit
To hold everything
From my neck
To my hips.
He takes his time
With you
Because he knows you
To be special
To be precious and beautiful

I’m sorry
I had to see your beauty
Through someone else’s eyes.
So now,
I write this poem with pride
Waving my pen like it’s
A flag for my flawes.

So let this serve
As a love letter
To my love handles
A memento
To my muffin top
A song for my stretchmarks
A poem for my pudge
Feels for my fupa
Cuz I ain’t missin no meals

Let this serve
As an apology
To some of the best parts
Of my body.
I was told to shame you.
Taught to be embarrassed
By you.
I’ve tried to chase you away
Dance you away
Bike you away
But you’re persistence
Perseveres –
And inspires me.
If you can hold on
Where you’re told you don’t belong,
Where might I learn to rise
Despite resistance?

So thank you.
Thank you for
Inspiring.
Thank you for
Stretching.
Thank you for
Protecting.
Thank you for
Making outfits
Someone else said
You would ruin.
Thank you for
Being there for lovers.
Thank you for
Being there for me.

Finding faith, Feeling high,
Figuring out Falling low,
Falling asleep Finding flow,
Having doubt (is this a haiku?) Making more room to grow.