THE LIFE-CHALLENGE SERIES: VICTIMEYES—PEEP THE REAL REASON YOU'RE SUFFERING

This post is now available at http://honorthespirit.blogspot.com/2015/02/the-life-challenge-series.html

DAMAGED BUT WORTH SALVAGING

Sometimes, you're too far gone emotionally to see your worth, your beauty, your value in the world, to see a way out of your suffering. Sometimes, it takes someone else to be compassionate enough to not only see past your flawed layers but also to help you see past them so you can move forward with uplifting yourself. Nobody gets through this life without others' encouragement. You're lying if you say you've made it through every tough situation all by yourself, with no mental or physical assistance. Too much standing around judging and watching people suffer and not enough helping leads to lost souls ... and lost lives.

Is this your story or the story of someone you know? Check out the video below. Join the Anti-Suffering Movement. Challenge your focal point. No judgment where suffering is concerned.

CURFEW: FOR OUR NIGERIAN GIRLS

I wish this could be as simple

as broken rules

about

the street lights are on

and you’re late

about

git’cho butt inside

it’s dinnertime

come clean up this room

finish that homework

as easy-peasy as fed-up mamas

snatchin’ back curtains

throwin’ windows open

hands on hips

peerin’ down the block

to growl your name and shout:

“I’m not gon’ tell you again!”

while you whiz by on your bike

plead for just five more minutes

and she smiles

chuckles

shakes her head

remembers her youth

her pleads

her eyes soften

and she lets you ride

would do anything

for it to be as “uh-oh”

as fire-breathin’ daddies

sportin’ shiny brass knuckles

waitin’ impatiently at front doors

for never-be-good-enough boys

to bring you home from first dates

that their mouths blessed

cuz you begged

but their hearts didn’t

would much rather this be about

200+ mischievous girls

quietly convergin’

and sneakin’ off

on a secret forbidden journey

fingers strung together

like paper-doll chain

squelchin’ the high-pitched giggles

ticklin’ their ribs

runnin’ free

wind coolin’ their backs

sun meltin’ the cares in their hearts

trekkin’ with no fears

gon’ be right back

gon’ be all right

cuz they got each other

but these wishes are in vain

the street lights have been on for months

and still

none of you are where you’re supposed to be

cuz you were force-fed this broken curfew

into the Sambisa

into marital slavery

and you’ve been gagging

on the bane the forest’s bowels

on coerced $12.00 vows

trying to unbind the silence in your throats

to find enough voice to scream for help

for directions to lead you home

from the detour of Haram

the government’s search has ebbed

and we will not rely on them

to continue to care enough to find you

their time may have been cut

but these clocks in our hearts

will remain ticking

  

we

are your spiritual search party

at night

in our uneasy sleep

our snores

are surveillance helicopters

fueled by the inferno in our blood

that keeps our tanks from running dry

our rapid-eye movements are searchlights

in the murk of our dreams

powered by determination

to illuminate your path

show you the way to freedom

and they will never burn out

no matter how long the nights

how hard the days

piece by piece

we will link the jigsaw of you

back together

rip you from the filthy grips

of the insurgents that body-snatched you

from your rights

from your school

from your learning

from your homes

and we will annul you from your captors

interlock your fingers

to remind you of oneness

of sisterhood

of love

of safety

of strength in cultural numbers

and lead you to your dwellings

where the street lights will beam

and mamas and daddies will be waitin’

impatiently at front doors

to envelop you

inhale your scent

stroke trust into your faces

nurse your spirits back to certainty

revel in your touch

tribal dance in your smiles

to exhale

to live again

©2014 Charlene E. Green
To listen to audio of "Curfew: For Our Nigerian Girls," click here

Sonnet #19 for February

POTENTIAL

You have a bad habit of coming in

And ripping apart lives of those in sight

Dealing with you it seems no one can win

They run opposite direction in fright

Maybe it’s due to your abusive past

Traits picked up from those in charge of rearing

Foster system where so many amassed

Lack of care left you in state of fearing

Now only side you can show is the worst

Cuz no one capitalized on your best

Undivided attention is main thirst

Hoping it will cure your soul’s deep unrest

Somewhere within lies a trapped heart of gold

To invite love into life you must mold

Copyright 2014

Charlene E. Green

Sonnet #14 for February

FLY

Precious black boys, teach yourselves how to sew

Learn how to tailor your minds at young age

More crucial for the world's needs than you know

Life without your talents would cause outrage

Though your divine wings are by birthright strong

Rivals' hatred cuts deep; damage is sure

If clipped by their wrath, it won’t be too long

Before your ease of soar is made obscure

Prioritize mission to guard your flight

Master mending skills, keep spirit well placed

Longer you stay wounded makes their days bright

Stitch up quick, hit sky, show splendor with haste

Best recipe for revenge is surprise

On faces when no matter what you rise

Copyright 2014

Charlene E. Green

LIFE-ALTERING QUESTIONS AT BREAKFAST

When she asks you
where he is
for the first time
at age seven
casually
out of the blue
while sitting at the kitchen table
mouth gorged with Cookie Crisp cereal
milk dribbling down her chin
no eye contact
but
staring at the side of the box
feigning astuteness of its
foreign ingredients

when she lays
the $64,000 question
in the middle of the table
calmly
and assertively
like
cross-examination
clearly premeditated
with an air of suspicion

first

miss me
with the mock shock
in your eyes
you had to know
this would happen
it’s not like
he’s ever been there
to tuck her in
at night
piggyback her
around the house
twirl her in her
favorite dress
and tell her how pretty
daddy’s little girl looks
or be there at the bottom
of the slide to catch her
at the playground
drop her off
at the school bus
share an ice-cream cone
and prop her on his knee
to tell her how much
he adores her
like all the other little girls’
fathers do

not like she hasn’t noticed
wondered
bathed her pillowcase
in tears
when you turned out
the lights at night
hoping he’d become a magician
and appear in places
other than her dreams

not like she hasn’t
wanted to ask you
before today

so don’t act brand new

second

brace yourself
this is the single-most
important answer
you'll ever give her
you have this chance only
to nail it
don’t screw it up
third—

and this may feel
like thumbtacks
kung-fu fighting
in your throat—

but
swallow your rage for him

hide your noxious words
in the alcove
of your voicebox
and deadbolt them
they're not trustworthy

detour the fatal venom
speeding down your tongue

if you let it crash
onto the table
and allow its toxic debris
to penetrate her innocence
it will destroy her
on impact

your jaws of life
won’t be quick enough
to retract any regrettable utterances
or extract her from
the spiritual wreckage
you'll entomb her in

you'll destroy her

do not rip
her embryonic esteem
from her 3-foot soul
she's precious
and impressionable
so guard her from your contempt
at all costs

acknowledge the fact
that although he left you
with the memories
of the worst of your merger
he also left you
with the best part of him
a lotus flower
that emerged from the swamp
of your muddy relationship

you were pro-him
when you let him
probe you
now the problem of his absence
and how it’s affecting you
is yours
not hers

truth is
you don’t hate him
you loath yourself
for being an open target
for a bullet
you were too weak
to dodge

so when she unglues her eyes
from the side of the box
and they meet yours
in preparation
for the critical reply

smile

with everything you’ve got
no matter how much it hurts
and tell her
he’s there
with her
every minute of the day
in her laugh
eyes
walk
sense of humor
the curve of her smile
shape of her hands
texture of her hair
the mole on her chin
in all the things she can do
that you can’t

tell her

how lucky she is
cuz he’s
closer to her
than he is
to anyone else

grit your teeth if you have to
hold that smile in place
with every thread of
strength your face can muster
when you profess
what a great man he is

because

every bit of good
he ever was
every bit of love
he ever possessed
he stored it
inside of her

©2013 Charlene E. Green

NATIONAL POETRY MONTH - 1/30: ASUNDER

It's the aftermath
of last night's
shrieks
accusations
and blaming

After they
dishonored each other
then
broke their promise
again
to never go to bed
stone-hearted
to never leave
more than
three inches of space
between them
during slumber

I'm sorry ... what slumber?
too much malignant
head chatter
desecrating their bond
loud enough to deaden
the love they professed
the previous morning
a rare moment
when they kissed
uttered sweet good-byes
but now it's
2am
and their mouths
are rancid
tongues mangled
from lashing
while the devil's
watching with glee
cackling heartily at
the ruinous discord
it has succeeded
in executing

You know it hates
these sissy-ass
marital unions anyway

The quote says
what God has
joined together
let no man
put asunder
yet
here they lie
with enough space
between them
to sleep
the elephant in the room
teetering on bedsides
fetal positioned
lips tightly pursed
arms defensively crossed
reek of enmity
pouring from the pores
in their backs
to each other

And
unless they realize
"man" in the quote
is THEM
and the devil
ain't nothin' but
a savage named Ego
alias THEM
they will never know serenity
and
these walls will howl
about never knowing
the peace
they were built
to surround
how
they're tired
of World War III
on rewind daily
tired
of being dismantled
by flying objects
how
the slamming of doors
every ten minutes
rocks them like

the Bay Bridge
in the 1989 quake
how
just like this couple
their foundation
is fractured
and
just like this couple
their days
are numbered
cuz
this couple
and these walls
will never
survive
emotional cancer

©2013 Charlene E. Green