I got so busy with all the rebranding and writing on my plate that I forgot about a Kindle Countdown deal I had scheduled awhile back. Yes, Loving Ashe, Book 1 of the Celebrity Series,… More
what’s the world coming to?
when did everything go so wrong,
where people are killing each other,
where it’s no longer enough to be strong?
what can we tell our children
of the world that we’ll leave behind?
where is the utopia we all dreamed of
when did we forget to be kind?
where is it safe to wander anymore,
when promenades have become killing grounds?
when did everything go so wrong,
where love is nowhere to be found?
explain to me again
what gives you the right to shame someone
who could have been anyone, even me
minding my own business at the gym
only to discover my imperfect body
revealed on a whim
right on your social media feed
where you decided to share,
the utter ugliness of your soul
that no surgery in this world can ever repair
Body shaming isn’t new and it isn’t going away, and today, just when I was thinking of paying the extra $5 to have my son stay at the childcare center that’s attached to my gym while I worked out because heaven knows my body is changing with the coming of the years – but I will never use the showers though – I will let my car stink of sweat on my five minute drive home before I will strip and take a shower in any gym, not when there are people like Dani Mathers taking pictures of unsuspecting patrons and posting them all over social media with the caption, “If I can’t unsee this, you can’t either.”
It’s hard enough to witness your body changing as you get older, tougher still when society expects you adhere to standards popular media sets like, women have to be this thin or that beautiful, or have perfect breast sizes or puffed-up lips. I remember older clients tell me that aging isn’t fun and that we as a society appreciate antiques way more than old people. And I hate to say it, but they’re right.
There’s a storm in my heart
that rages whenever you’re gone,
wondering why you had to leave again,
what did I do wrong?
Did I ask too many questions
the last time you were here?
Did I not hear your instructions?
Weren’t you at all clear
that I’m supposed to be silent
when your storms howl deep inside,
when your demons come back for you,
and there’s no place to hide?
Let’s take a journey,
just you and me
I don’t know where we’re going
let’s just wait and see
Maybe a trip to nowhere,
or wherever our fingers land
on this map in front of us,
will we walk on cobblestones or powder-fine sand?
Will we run with the bulls in Pamplona,
laughing the entire way?
Will we make our way to the plaza,
happy to live another day?
Will we drink wine in Tuscany
and even quote the works of Shakespeare?
Will we dance till midnight to the strains of music
that only you and I can hear?
So let’s take a journey,
just you and me,
maybe even deep inside ourselves
and set ourselves free.
©Photos by Paul D. Durano
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Not sure how to participate? Here are the steps to get started.
Is your glass half-full
or is it half-empty?
Is a glass ceiling stopping you
from moving on,
from claiming the things you see?
Do you wonder if you’ve got more to give
or are you washed up, as they say you are?
Should you stop right here and let things be
or should you take up the challenge again,
and take it far?
Should you listen to the naysayers when they say
that such things you seek can’t be done?
Or should you turn your head forward and keep going,
knowing that before long,
those doubters will be gone?
So is your glass half-full,
or is it half empty?
Is there even a glass for you to see where you really are?
Or are you simply – right now –
exactly where you need be?
You asked me to tell you
when I last let go
when I last held on to the masks
so that no one will know
that deep inside I’m empty,
and my soul has known no peace,
inside this shell is a woman
in dire need of sweet release
from the demons that keep her captive
even long after they are gone
from the words of those she onced believed in,
telling her her worth’s akin to none
so instead, let me tell you a story
of the last time i let go –
it will be a lie, a false memory
that only i will know.
cloaked in darkness, she walks the city
seeking company among the dead,
the wide-eyed lunatics, the indifferent,
they calm the voices in her head.
she hands them coins and sometimes stories,
of lovers lost and true loves found,
tales of lives so full of promise,
but of their truth, none abound
and as she walks each night, i await her,
to be regaled of tales, maybe even a poem
of lovers lost to the grip of insanity,
praying one day her words will guide me home
she needs the layers to cover her fears
every single one of them demanding
that she put on a happy face despite the years
of failures and disappointments, never ending
and every night as she takes them off, one by one,
she tells herself that tomorrow will be better,
maybe one day, all her nightmares will be gone,
and life can finally be kind to her.
Am I really in charge
like I used to be,
when I made the decision to let go
and finally be free?
but that was so long ago
when my world was much simpler then,
when the days were much brighter,
and the long nights not yet fallen,
when dreams could be a reality,
when despair didn’t walk by my side.
Am I really in charge now that I’m older,
or am I just numb and dead inside?
when i was a little girl
my dad owned an island
although it was very small
that when the tide came in
we all had to leave
for it wouldn’t be there at all
but come morning,
when we’d pack up the boat and set sail
it would be back again,
and we’d swim and eat boiled crabs
till the tide came in
and covered it all over again