Frustrated – Original Poetry 12/6/05

I am so tired of living among a passion-less people

So exhausted, so full of excuses

of why they don’t have time to

or don’t have the energy to

Can’t fit the struggle into their schedule of Pilates classes,

after work affairs and the nine to five

Complaining about the lack of, the need for

and their people being so poor

Can’t wait to put down their fellow-man, their president and the unending war

What my brother, my sister are you fighting for?

Is it the last seat on the bus?

The most popular item at Toys R Us?

The raise that’s been denied you for years

or just fighting to hold back your tears because of the bonuses that were given to your peers?

What are you fighting for?

I wish I could go back and live among the passionate folks

before our community was numbed with pipes full of dope

and silenced behind bars where our men are afraid to pick up the soap

with women like Angela Davis who feared no one

And the Black Panther Party protected every young black son

No one sat around waiting for assistance

We fought for justice, excited by its resistance

Black play writes brought home Tonys

and didn’t settle for gospel-comedy baloney

What are we fighting for?

Our babies are dying in the street

and we’re afraid to stand up on our own two feet

Too afraid that they’ll keep on killing?

Hell, they shot Martin, Malcolm, Treyvon and Lincoln

We’re letting our children get abused

wasting our money on liquor and more concerned about the right pair of shoes.

What the hell are we fighting for?

It’s nice you donate to the poor

Cause you’re making millions off of them buying your CD while you’re turning them away from you door

Is there room in your mansion for ten more, senor?

Then why hire them as maids when you could teach them to do so much more

Tell me Mister Mogul – who are you fighting for?

Taking money from our community so you can walk hand in hand with the Barbie doll you purchased from the store

Tired of all the talk and no action

I remember the days sleeping on a cold concrete step, risking my Ivy League education for South Africa’s poor

An education that most can’t even afford to get anymore

So many poets talk of change and raising us up

But when are we gonna do more?

January 13, 2013 0

Toni’s Room Blog – 2012 in review. Thank you for visiting!

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,100 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

December 30, 2012 2

But for the Grace…

I know there’s been so much that’s already been said about the senseless killings of the Sandy Hook Elementary School children and staff, and so many early judgements about the killer, his family and why it happened. But I feel like I need to share the fear that came up for me and maybe for someone else who is reading this. It scares me that it could have just as easily happened at the elementary school across the street from my home where my daughter attends school, but what scared me even more was the profile of the shooter. This young male was described by his classmates as nice, quiet, didn’t talk much, didn’t say anything bad about anyone…obviously brilliant…parents had recently divorced and he lived with his mother in a quiet town and no one would have thought in a million years that he was capable of such a thing. They were describing my first born word for word. Quiet, brilliant, keeps to himself and maybe quietly stuffing emotions that a “tween” experiences as a result of separation or divorce. It removed all judgement from my heart when I realized that but for the Grace of God and awareness on my part, this could have been my own son.

And if I didn’t pay attention to his emotions, if I didn’t keep the communication between us open, if I didn’t try and keep positive role models (especially male) in his life, encourage him to stay involved in sports, show care and concern about what concerns him- even if I think it’s senseless – and hug and kiss him every chance I get even when it embarrasses him, there but for the Grace of God would he be.
I don’t assume to know the family dynamics, but it did confirm for me that I was doing the right thing just hours before the news broke.

Because my Ex is dealing with his own childhood trauma (or rather, not dealing with it), he has begun to distance himself from our children’s lives. This type of abandonment can be devastating to young children, and has shaken up our lives a bit. The ironic thing is that just an hour or two before I heard the news I was on the phone with my son’s former and my daughter’s current Guidance Counselor. Fear and shame keep a lot of people, especially in our culture, from seeking outside help for family and emotional trauma. And there are some who have told me that just loving them is enough, but sometimes it isn’t. I have always been open-minded and willing to choose support over suffering, even if I had to fight through the shame. It takes a lot of courage to expose your most sensitive and private thoughts to a stranger; but if it meant that it would save my son from suffocating in quiet pain and anger and my daughter from seeking unhealthy sources of love and comfort in their tween/teens, then I was ready and willing. Sometimes as a parent you have to be proactive.

After the uncomfortable phone call I felt a little more encouraged, supported and equipped with the knowledge and resources I could utilize to support my kids. They say “things happen for a reason”. I pray these lives were not lost in vain. I pray comfort for all of those heartbroken. I pray this country will make a serious effort to keep our kids and communities safe. I pray that it will bring a global awareness that will save our country and all of our children from suffering in silence. I know that just one parent will be doing a little more than just hugging her children a little tighter at night. It’s time for Action – for all of our children. What are you willing to do?

December 16, 2012 9

My inner child..

Sitting in the warm Fall sun, watching my five year old on the trampoline, I felt as though I were looking at my inner child. My children have had so many experiences in their childhood that I never had, and I just realized today how healing it has been for me to participate in their joy. I think of the excitement on their faces when I surprised them with a trip to the beach just before Labor Day weekend. They spent hours playing in the waves and making sandcastles and it forced me to release my inner child into the waves as well! I can’t ever remember experiencing the ocean first-hand or having the opportunity to play at the beach during my childhood. The tides have such strong energy and peace at the same time and it’s so important to me to have them connect with that.
I spent so much of my youth trying to be the perfect child, that I didn’t spend much time just getting caught up in the sheer joy, imagination, wonder and timelessness of childhood. So I am giving those things to myself now, disguised as motherhood.
Last week I went to a thrift store looking for a practical dresser for my daughter’s room. Sitting outside was a thirteen foot, round, never been used trampoline. Most this size go for $300 or more yet this was only $50 as part of an estate sale. Little Tonita said “get it, it’s going to be so much fun and I’ve never jumped on a trampoline!” The mother, Toni said ” but you really need the dresser – you didn’t come here for a trampoline!” So we compromised. I looked all over the store for a dresser. I didn’t find one that I liked. When I came back outside and no one had bought it, I told the cashier “I’ll take it. ”
My kids were so excited once we got it installed, that they have been on it every day, several times a day, and I love seeing the smiles and sheer freedom emanating from every bounce.
I haven’t been on it with them due to the weight restriction, but one day this week after the kids are all off to school and I have an hour before I need to go to work, my inner child will have her way. It’s never too late to experience joy. Who’s coming over to play?

September 24, 2012 2

My Angels always show up for the after-party…

It’s just a part of my reality now. I’ve accepted the heartache that wells up inside my soul when the Mother’s Day commercials start to pour in. Even though I am a mother, and I get my props this time of year from the media (and boy how that makes me feel valued!), I still feel the abandonment. It’s been over a decade but I still want to be able to buy a card, deliver it, and get a big warm hug. So each year about a week before the holiday, I fall into a slight emotional and physical slump. It’s usually unsuspected because each year I think it’s going to be the last, but you never get over your first love.

It used to hit me like a ton of bricks, but now I’m so used to it and have accepted it that I plan the party. My pity party that is. Poor me. I lost mom at such a young age, I have no living grandparents and my heart aches for my kids who did not get to experience her here on this plane. I feel overwhelmed. I feel alone. I feel sad. And I feel like crawling up under my covers and not coming out until someone else arrives. I put on my terry cloth robe, some warm socks, get a good glass of red wine and some chocolate (preferably with ice cream too) and find a few tear-jerker movies to watch on television. My preference is Beaches, Terms of Endearment and Steel Magnolias – always sure to envoke a good, deep soul-wrenching cry. Of course I never invite anyone to my pity party, or it wouldn’t be as meaningful. It’s usually ended with not much sleep and I feel the emotional hangover the next day or so until I decide the party is over or someone needs their tutu or baseball pants cleaned right away. And somewhere between the tears or the chocolate, I ask my Creator to help me embrace joy again and I ask Mom to show up somehow during the week to let me know I am not alone. The alarm rings, the kids have to get to school, and I have to get back to work. Back to reality.

And as inevitable as the pity party, so is the after party. And my angels always tend to show up and deliver ten-fold!

May 25, 2012 0

Finally Over_Original Poetry 1/9/1985

Finally Over

When I lost you

I found myself

and I hurt

I pained

for too long

thinking of how foolish I had been to believe in you

But my hurt turned into poetry and dance

and I wrote

and danced

until I filled up the emptiness inside of me

The void that set inside my soul

when you were no longer there

Poetry about you and for myself poured from my fingertips

like golden rum at Carnival time in Trinidad

I loved until I stopped hurting

and I found not only myself

but

someone to love me for real

And oh yes

there were times when I wished he were you

until constant caresses and truthful sighs

showed me that true love takes me for what I am

Yes

it is finally over.

Real love has rescued my weary soul

and you are just a faded memory

because I am no longer afraid to return

the love that I have been given

March 29, 2012 2

What If…Original Poetry _ 1985

What If

What if

you looked around and saw nothing but people of color

People who stole nothing but kisses;

raped nothing but that which encompassed education;

killed nothing but your troubles

when the weight was too heavy to bear.

Wept for no reason but to rejoice in

the celebration of a new coming;

died only from the hand of God

People loving each other regardless of the risk

People deserving of the chance to live

People of color

Unafraid and

Unified

As One

March 28, 2012 0

God Has Answered

It’s so amazing when you can look back on the major events in your life and see where God has not necessarily answered your exact prayer, but gave you exactly what you needed. I wanted so desperately to have another boy. My son was so easy-going, mild-tempered, played happily by himself, ate whatever I put in front of him, weaned himself off of me before the age of one and was willing and excited to go anywhere and do anything I suggested. He was such a bright and happy kid and definitely a momma’s boy. I wanted another just like him!

When they told me (because I could never be one of those women who find out the sex of the baby on the operating table) at the ultrasound that it was a girl, I almost cried. I felt so disappointed. I knew what a handful I was as a young girl, and how much I resisted whatever my mom said was the “right thing to do” when I was a tween, and I was not ready for the challenge. I wasn’t ready to release the boxes and boxes of beautifully preserved boys clothing that I had so carefully packed away in anticipation, and did not want to paint the nursery pink or buy all new pink fluffy clothing. I grew up in a houseful of boys – three brothers and a mass of their close friends whom I considered my “play” brothers. I knew how boys thought, what their interests were and was comfortable being around them.

What was I going to do with a girl?? My friends and family were all excited that we would have the “rich man’s family – one boy and one girl. They all told me that I would love having a daughter, that one day we’d enjoy laughter over manicures, tea cups and pretend cookies and that we would be the best of friends. If it weren’t for the close relationship I had with my mom, I would not have believed a word they said. But my mind still went fast forward to her teenage years where I saw us fighting all the time and her sneaking out the bedroom window to run away with some foolish boy. After all I had nausea the entire nine months I carried her and it couldn’t have been a more miserable pregnancy. I thought, “this is not going to be good”, and secretly hoped the ultrasound was wrong. But God knew best.

This pregnancy came after suffering three miscarriages within a two-year period, and yet I still considered trying again. I wanted to give my son a sibling. The specialists we saw couldn’t find any reason for the lost babies and I started to think maybe my Creator was telling me that it was just not in the plan. The doctors suggested I try again. I prayed to God and asked for a miracle. Another positive pregnancy test. I made a deal with God that if this embryo did not survive, I would accept that God’s plan for my life was to just have one child and I would not try again. My next ultrasound confirmed the pregnancy, yet the visit several weeks later presented us with potentially devastating news. They saw a blood clot right by the embryo and there was a high possibility that I would miscarry. I spent the next week on bed rest, and in prayer. My prayers were about to be answered one way or another, and I wanted to have the strength to handle the outcome. By the next ultrasound the clot had disappeared. There was no trace of it. The ultrasound technician was dumbfounded; the doctor said it was a miracle and I couldn’t hold back the tears.

As soon as I got home, I looked up names for the little baby girl growing in my womb. I had already chosen her middle name, but I searched for a name by meaning. I wasn’t sure what name it would return, but I knew what I wanted her name to mean. My eye was drawn to the name Janai (Jah-nay). Janai means “God has answered”. I surrendered and accepted and held strongly to my faith. Absolutely God had answered. Not my prayer for a boy, but I was rewarded for my faith. My God!

I am writing this so that when she’s spending way too much time in the shower, or dating some boy I don’t approve of, or just plain giving me more grey hairs, I will read this again, take a deep breath, hold her in my arms and as I did the morning she was born, cherish the beautiful gift I was given when God answered. I hope it works!

Happy Fifth Birthday “sweet cheeks”!

Love, Mommy

March 22, 2012 3