A fellow blogger who posted “I LOVE YOU” to all his readers. He also expressed that his childhood lessons never included how to express his love in ways that were healthy like verbally and hugging. To prove his sincerity he revealed his real name. This is my response as it was sent with no spell check or editing.
I came by to pay you a visit and I discovered THIS. Some would call THIS a post. Doing so, would not be technically incorrect. However, giving THIS any one single name would be horribly wrong in so many ways. THIS is your heart. THIS is your pain. THIS is your wish. THIS is your confession. THIS is your end. THIS is your start. THIS is your past. THIS is our future. THIS is your connection. THIS is even more than you and I can mention.
I know THIS was hard to give the world. For that reason, I want to show you that the world that your fear will treat you the same as the man who had the title of Father in your life; is actually very loving if you are aware of its acts of tender care. While it would be easy to just dismiss the meeting of us as chance. Perhaps it is. But my desire to believe that all the forces of evil I have encountered in my life must have a force in place to balance it out makes me believe us meeting was not just chance. I will give some evidence to support my belief.
I started my very first blog just a little over a month ago. By chance, I came across a post the_Lunatic made that impressed me so much I introduced myself. By chance, she told me the reason for her blog was to be honest with herself and the world so she could hopefully get some power over her demons. By chance, I share her mission. By chance, the good impression she made on me made me to read her blog regular when most of the times I just allow the reader decide which blog will get my attention. By chance, I came across you through her blog. By chance, I decided to check out what you offered. By chance, I loved what I saw. By chance, On May 5th I posted the following on Facebook, “Billie Ann Howell-Zahir – One of the saddest things I ever had to admit to another person was the sad fact I did not know how to hug. Sure, I knew the mechanics of the process but my insecurities and fears made the act more painful than enjoyable. Recently, I’ve practiced more while letting go of my fears and insecurities. Now….I wonder how I survived without them. By chance, you posted this on May 7th. By chance, today one of my followers told me they found you through me and was highly impressed. By chance, I decided to check in with you. By chance, I found THIS. By chance, while so many others shared pain similar to yours as a child, it is me who KNOWS the shame and burden not knowing how to be hugged and hug. By chance, I know from experience the constant torture I endure being a person who is so full of love for others it often overflows and looks silly yet I fear hugs still despite the efforts I made to embrace the act of hugging.
I might be wrong…but what are the chances of all these chances happening to put me in place to write this to you in hopes to comfort?
Thank you so much for offering THIS. THIS gives you more of an identity than any name given or chosen could. But to keep things easy…I will call you any name you feel is best.
LOVE from me to you….
On April 2, 2013 I started this blog. I never had a blog before because I was afraid nobody would read what I offered.
I know the, “What if I have a party and nobody shows up,” fear is very common. However, with much delight, people did show up to my party. Each person who gave me that honor, I can not express the amount of appreciation I have for you.
When I was a child, the writing that I loved had to be kept hidden away. You see, I came from a family that believed in secrets and one of the secrets they believed I should never tell was how I felt. Since I did not know how to write anything I liked without expressing them I would have to take a chance and find a hiding place for my treasured displays of being human. More than once, my hiding places were found and I had to watch them be burned. To some, the pain that I felt because of that seems silly. However, I am almost 40 and have learned I don’t HAVE to care what you think about my feelings and I don’t HAVE to hide them. That being said, as with any child-hood trauma, a person develops some internal fears which they can’t seem to ever shake. Those sticky fears is why I chose poetry as my chosen writing for the blog. I believe poetry is a backdoor method of expression of personal emotion. I felt, if I expressed with strangers my feelings this way and they looked down at me for how I felt…I had an out. I would always lie and say what I offered was done because I had literary license. Last night I realized…I was still hiding my feelings I have written. After that realization hit me….I vowed to myself now, who is grown, and the me as a child that I would no longer deny them the right to have feelings.
Don’t get me wrong. I will still write poetry and post it here on my blog. However, I will be making some additions as well. One of which, is a series titled “Responses from the heart.” The inspiration for the series came when I wrote some responses to posts from people I have social contact with online. It struck me how much beauty my responses had when they were produced from the heart and not thinking. I saw a natural lyrical quality that even when I really try I can’t reproduce when I make an effort to write poetry. Most of all…I loved how my emotions were never hidden.
With that introduction I will soon be posting those first two in the series. It stands to reason, because the way they come about can not be planned or thought out I will not be able to promise when you will see the next one. All I can say with assuridy…is you will someday.
Billie A Zahir ♥
Will I be given a place in Heaven?
What is a ticket worth?
Was I issued one at birth?
Is that my long awaited mental haven?
If I do go, I hope my legs are freshly shaved
and I’m wearing a girdle to reduce my girth.
Will I be given a place in Heaven?
What is a ticket worth?
If I do go, I hope all are seen as even
not unequal like here on earth.
I don’t want to be looked at with mirth
or, worse yet, others who were told of my sins faces being graven.
Will I be given a place in Heaven?
as I want
to be seen by
others in the world.
The gift you give with eyes
felt like sparks of pure delight
starting its warm feel good journey
in my lonely heart, jolts of heat spreads
to my toes and finger tips..NEVER STOP!
Always too fleeting
Two souls touch leaving imprint
To see who you are now, take a look at your history.
Often the stories of the past are
Persons of wealth and power are glorified.
Why is a mystery.
After all, it was the lowly left to bleed
while the elites stayed home to breed.
The common person lived in the ruling mass’ shadow.
This injustice should not continue…agreed?
Now people of the ghetto
don’t think you have no wisdom to bestow.
I assure you the tales you have are the choicest.
To all those who dare to raise their voice…Bravo!
Even if you are the coyest,
people say your stories are the crudest,
and beg you to leave this task to the aptest
please don’t take it to heart because your stories are the richest.
I’m in love with a warrior artist.
He fights demons without making a fist.
I have watched him battle, with pen in had, he is the bravest!
I know his shoulders are not the broadest
and he is not considered part of the A list.
However, this is sadly the plight of any true artist.
He came into my life when it was the bleakest.
The world seemed to be wrapped in a suffocating evil mist.
His words slashed away at my gray existence proving he is the bravest!
I know, you are right. My opinion is biased.
But wanted to let you know about this great man…or at least a gist.
I want all to know of my love, the artist.
He entered my life when I was at my bluest
and gave me what I needed to have other colors with a twist.
Men, full of brawn, were daunted. Making him, small in stature, the bravest.
I have never been considered the brightest
and care others have for my opinion probably does not exist.
However, my heart would never find rest if I did not sing a tune of praise for the artist
who fights demons with his pen because he is the bravest.
SISTER OF MY HEART My pen flows with pure emotion as fuel when my heart and mind keep on compelling an in-depth accounting be given of the unique role you have played in my personal development.
SISTER OF MY HEART, as you know, my emotion is often hard to capsulize within what is considered the acceptable confines
for a poet by civilization’s prose and poetry élite. But in an effort not to bore you with too many words, an honest effort will be made to be concise.
SISTER OF MY HEART my depth of gratitude for your existence in my life is without a bottom and the aid you gave can never be repaid. That being said, The burden of expressing, so you can comprehend the amount of love I carry for you in my heart, in confines of such a small space is a behemoth task. However, the part you had in me becoming who I am today demands I joyfully embrace my impossible mission in a effort to repay the person I will forever owe a debt.
SISTER OF MY HEART you are more than a dear friend. Friends come and go as we grow. As we age, we come to accept people we called friends will wave goodbye and wish us luck soon after they completed their mission in that moment’s life lesson. As we progress to our life’s next destination, we are keenly aware of the added weight in our satchel from the wisdom and memories we added to it. We also know, as we trudge on, are satchel is something we could never leave behind and each day we carry the treasured possession we are stronger because of it.
SISTER OF MY HEART was established by THE MOST HIGH as my one and only constant in whom I could rely. GOD knew I would be beaten down with words and fists while being starved of verbal recognition of worth from two other broken children of his. GOD was not to blame for these evil things happening. The MOST HIGH had to choose between two options, and instead of withholding life from me, he provided me with earth-bound angles. such as you, to be put in place to make sure a child of HIS was not without hope under no circumstances.
SISTER OF MY HEART you were the one who did my hair and make-up and made me think, even if it only lasted a short time, I was pretty. You led me on youthful adventures that all young souls need to learn. When I think of family, laughing, learning, and growing you are the face I see. I know you never comprehended the important positive impact you had and have on my life. When others, who had impressive titles such as Mother, Father, Sister, and Brother failed to show me my worth shimmering back at me in their eyes when, by chance, they glanced in my direction, you showed me how I could sparkle and glow if exposed to the light and not kept hidden away in the darkness which I was made to believe was my birth right.
SISTER OF MY HEART what makes all you done for me even more a blessing is knowing you did it while yourself were suffering. I wonder why and cry over this sad fact. How could you have been so strong and confident to be there for me when I was born so weak? I hate knowing for all our long history together I was always the one taking. I pray to find some way to repay you for all the goodness you gave me then and still give me when I call upon you to tell you my woes so you can remind me GOD never gave up on me… proof being his earth-bound angle is still is answering my desperate calls.
SISTER OF MY HEART I don’t have much to offer. Consider these words just a token of my appreciation and love for the big positive impact you have had on my life.
People all around
Yet I’m all alone
Sad state to be in
Born a beggar with hand held out.
“Pardon me sir, can you spare a hug?”
“Excuse me lady, do you have an extra kiss?”
Food, shelter and clothing
Were panhandling earnings. However, yearnings were for so much more.
Desire was great to be that one gift in a person’s life
that made them think THEY were not worthy
to be in possession
full of light fresh from HEAVEN.
This is the birthright this beggar was denied.
So here I am….a beggar with hand held out.
I saw the lake
I sat on the rock
I listened to the sounds
I shut off my mind
PEACE is what I found
I was beauty as far as the eye could see
I was comfort for those who sought rest
I had all the right words at the right time
I LOVED me at that moment
Peace is what I found
You find that place
You take a seat
You listen to all the sounds around
You shut off your mind
PEACE is what you will find
After being reminded of our Mother’s birthday,
I remembered the Mother’s ring she was given by us all
on some occasion I do not recall.
I do not know what her feelings
about that ring
but I do know mine.
I remember growing up
how all the stones were arranged
in a way that would make anyone think each stone,
right to left,
were not placed in order of birth.
September’s sapphires placed at either end.
The first was a son.
The last was a son.
Both turned out to be the daughter’s emotional rocks.
Always looking at the sensibility of living in a family unit
not having the emotional outbursts
that rocked the boat of our clan.
They have learned
if they walked away long enough…
all would be well when they returned.
Next to sapphires is the garnets.
Both share the same dirty brown stone,
loud laughs everyone enjoys hearing…
and little else.
The eldest found her path in life early and never thought to stray.
The youngest path is a wondering one
she has no want to find ”the path” but explore them all.
Both believe paths are ”right”
and never see eye to eye.
Both blind to their similarity
of freely giving bits of wisdom
out of love.
In the middle of the ring
two stones that have no match.
I felt sad
about their aloneness.
Only after getting older,
and learning who the people were
did I see the connection
between the stones
and the persons.
The Diamond is rare
holds great value.
Worth of the pale stone
risks being forgotten
when surrounded by all the color.
like the diamond,
catching fire in the light.
She draws eyes
to the beauty of the stones
yet refuses to be outshone by them.
The lone emerald
the remaining daughter
just like in the ring
brings a sense of peace
to the collection.
Both beautiful enough to stand alone
but opts to bring he gifts to all.
I loved that ring as a child.
The ring is how
I knew my older brothers and sisters.
I hope Mom passes it on to me.
As long as that ring has us all in a row together,
I have hope
someday,we can do the same.
Free from past baggage
and learn to appreciate the beauty of each other.
Much love to them all
Sitting here freshly bathed
Panties not bothered to be put on
For some effort made from your side
You make it clear it will happen
But only when your ready
But that’s just you prepping
This, I’ve learned is my sign to be
Is all I can give with this approach
This love-making is not what we had before
yet your expectations are the same
Is how your actions make me feel
Tried to use words to express how I feel
You respond with silence
The sex, I don’t miss
I miss those being between us
Wish these things could be fixed
My JOY is a dancing elephant
Bigger than life standing on two feet
Putting on a show for all those watching
Smiles are on all who can’t help to find the positive vibes
from this Majestic Beast infectious
People’s minds are so focused on what they are seeing
This oddity that fills them with so much elation
is in reality just a
plain ol grey pachyderm
and something that would be easy to ignore
The illusion is kept
as long as can be
However, like all good things, the dancing ends
The beast is tired and can’t continue to entertain
Two feet that were once in the air; come down
without a sound
A proud trunk which once delighted the crowd with a trumpeting sounds
Now went limp with exhaustion
and the now hidden mouth is panting
The once exalted animal exits the arena
Those who once were enthralled
divert their attention
to the new attraction put in place
diverting attention from the lumbering animal’s slow retreat
After departure of the now forgotten spectical
People continued to have a grand time
untill they were told it was time to head home…
When the time has come for the tent to come down
People heading out never associated the big animals doing manual labor
who they feel no sympathy
with the fascinating beasts
who defied gravity and made grand sounds
bringing them such delight.
That is why
my joy is a dancing elephant.
I once got lost in the town I lived in.
It was the middle of the night not another car in sight.
Everything looked familiar yet strange.
Right when I ran out of gas and I laid my head on the wheel wondering if I would ever be found….my step-dad Ray knocked on the window.
To this day he has been the only man who missed me when I was gone enough to go that extra mile to find me.
That is a story I need to tell.
You evil man who plays the victim…I have a message for you.
(don’t run and hide)
Your days are numbered. This I can assure you.
For the longest time I have camped outside your Tower of Lies…denied entrance by your victims installed as guards.
I wonder what you will say when asked to account for your torture of the ones you were tasked to nurture…
Will you claim to be innocent because you were once a victim?
That excuse will not fly guy. The pain you endured will not give you asylum from the pain you inflicted.
By circumstance, I was saved from your worse. And the guilt I feel for this fuels my desire…to see you and your fortress burned up by fire.
Years have passed. You are old. We are still broken. But I can finally see you are starting to weaken.
I pray your fall allows those you now hold prisoner freedom from lies you told and they can finally see the strength, power, and beauty they posses.
Untill they are released I will remain your tormented victim.
I want to share a story to show my gratitude for one of the best gifts I have ever been given.
The gift I hold so dear, was presented to be by a fellow junkie.
We had nothing in common besides our shared addiction and the building we were housed in.
We would kill time between therapy, smokes, snacks, and meals talking about this, that, and nothing.
However, during one of our one on one stress relieving sessions, I told a story that was always so painful and filled me with shame…
Even though I was only a child and the victim.
As soon as I started…
I wanted to stop…
Instead I told my sad tale like it was a joke.
I laughed at my pain so as not to burden this recent stranger with feeling obligated to pretend he cared and give me some token pity.
I wanted to end it with a final laugh and give him a Newport as payment for his time…
But to my surprise no pity was given. In its place I was given the permission to allow my feelings be first.
He told me my story was not funny and I did not need to laugh.
He knew what happened must have hurt…
The weight of my pain was less as he showed me compassion.
He said when somebody hurts me it should not be funny.
He gently put his hand on mine and said he thought it would be better if I cried.
At that moment that wonderful junkie served as a wittiness to my tears I always kept hidden…
When I already felt he gave me so much…he gave me one more.
I saw tears fall from his eyes.
How could a victim ask for anything more!
Soon after, we went our separate ways…
But I swear this on a stack of Bibles…his gift will always remain close to my heart.
And in my heart, I know this grand gift could never be given by a nice junkie unless God used him to teach me this life changing lesson.
I don’t ask why God allowed such a bad thing to happen.
Asking why does not take pain away. It did, and that’s that.
However, the pain I lived with for so long did feel less the day God used a kind junkie to give me the permission and compassion needed to make it easier to deal with.
My worth is more than the reflection of you that I allow you to see.
You like what you see of you reflected in my eyes.
Consider my reflection of a gift…from me to you.
However, I would be remiss if I did not warn.
While my reflection of you is true…
My goal is to find the person who reflects me the very way I reflect you.
I know there is beauty to be found in the ugly I feel.
This is the truth of the matter…
We are not creatures designed to live in this world solo. We all feel the need to be part of a duo.
I used to think you were my other half but time has shown the reflection of you is why you want me by your side
I AM MORE THAN A MIRROR IN A CAGE!
This is evident with the anger you show when I turn you pretty reflection off and allow the ugly shine thru
Or when you display irrational jealousy when I care enough to reflect another in a loving effort to allow them to see the beauty they have.
I am hoping you someday find the person you can see your reflection in and care enough about to reflect them back…
But my time reflecting you is over and done.
It’s time for me to go in search for my radiant reflection in somebody new.