Random free rite
by Aja-Monet on Monday, November 16, 2009 at 2:26pm
As of late, I have been writing endlessly/am burdened by the games my mind plays with words/with ideas. I have let my hands loose on the page/I find myself quoting scripture again, returning to the gospel of my childhood/the other day I began a novel/felt the sentences cowering like sirens growing into song/there is a ghost that visits me in my dreams and offers me coffee and cigarettes/shows me secret passageways/ I am recognizing my strange source of freedom/how it can anger and confuse/makes it impossible for anyone to ever control a woman so in love with God/so amazed by the intricacy of our concentrated love, the construction of our existence/ I’ve been writing useless poems about our suffering, our loss of love which confronts our suffering/I have been creating magic, haunting these poems with the worship of love/I am no longer disappointed but remembering my own embrace/I store my laughter all around my home/in cabinets, on shelves, in the shower faucet, underneath the staircase, in the arch of my roof/ I’m not sure if people are intrinsically good or bad, am neither here nor there in my understanding of others/I am trusting that I know nothing and yet I know everything/I am okay with being a woman, both emotion and mind/I no longer fear the hysteria of our honesty, am disgusted by those who mock our fountain of intelligence/but I am a lover of men most honest with themselves, therein with us, those most intent on loving in spite of suffering and insecurity/I have always been a child most intrigued by broken things/and my poems are only dark to people that hide themselves in shadows and night/call my technique feeling and emotion/call my genre spirit and soul/ but remember me a woman who smiled/it is because I have spent time with my tears that I most love the way the corners of my mouth spread in joy, how the dimples deepen and sink into my cheeks/some days I am annoyed by the ramble of my yelling giggle but boy, is that girl beautiful when she laughs/more and more as I am writing, I learn that God is teaching me how to navigate this world of boxes and fear, the woman I am learning to become/surely I have never met a woman like the one I believe I am and will become but I have found her in the shadows of other women/I am trying to find an effective mode of communicating my strangeness/ but trust that I will be understood/i want to be articulate and strong but not at the expense of my need for support and tenderness/simply because I am wonderful in my struggle does not deny the mystery in my fragility/ if God is change than I know holy like a tornado narrative/somethings are absolute, should be less frightening than we make them/ I rather a more profound life but it is never in opposition to the comedy of our paradox/the writing is helping make sense of the horror/ it is the horror of our self affliction, of our loss and our undeniable longing/here is a woman transformed by her process and learning to be honest, no matter how brutal, no matter the revelation…..
Always,
Aja monet