What saves you?
Is it those soulful hymns that all can sing?
That sweet, tender form of words that find its place so perfectly?
Those expressions of pain, and experience that wear on the face,
And tug on the heart so powerfully?
Or is it the beautiful array of notes that seem to speak to you so deeply?
And so it sings....
They say "she's a runner."
But I'm known to walk alone when my imagination serves me better than my reality.
"I've never been one to maintain stable relationships", she says.
"Always been greeted by the absence of something.
An absence I'm so grateful for.
The purpose it's served has guided me so greatly in life.
It's forced me to find a way on my own."
"She's a survivor", they say.
"A work of art whose mind serves as her biggest asset, and at times, her biggest enemy."
With this mind oozes strength.
Her vigor speaks volumes.
She's an innovative girl, strictly motivated by the fear of being average,
Her ambition is on another level.
Her hard work is what contributes to what she has.
The foundation of the earth planted by His hands is what carries her through the day,
It's what catches her feet when she stumbles over the hurdles placed before her.
It saves her.
The soft breezes of whisper that kiss her face,
It saves her.
But believe me when I say,
Her flaws weigh heavy like the burden of a heartbreak.
They're like the trees that stand so tall,
And stick out like a sore thumb.
The trees of such deformity give life,
And therefore bring about small blessings.
Just as He will see your flaws,
And use them to give you blessings.
But we choose to mask them,
And run away from our blessings.
Just as the trees are seasonally covered with makeup,
But are forced to bare naked in the harshest months.
But here we stand as cowards,
And sit fully clothed when the storms of life are raging on.
We only lay naked to reap the fruits and benefits of which we are promised.
But she,
She choses to stand alone,
Letting all of her imperfections pour out from the woodworks,
And into her hands.
She survives off of the honesty.
Believe her when she says,
She is not afraid to eat alone.
So she walks out into the garden, barefoot and organic,
And in elevation sits a fire.
She gets a certain glow when she lets this heat bake upon her skin.
I find that this very thing is what keeps her warm in a humanity being built and chiseled out of ice.
In a certain way,
She finds that her spirit and the sun are connected.
Being that when one rests, the other follows suit.
Then the deeper form awakens
Straight out of the vulnerable state.
So she speaks...
"I'm a believer.
An apostle who trusts that no strength upon my life was simply given to me, but earned.
I have big visions of my success,
Big visions of capturing moments.
I have plans to be a game changer,
To be intriguing with every word that I speak.
To be a woman who is not driven by money, but the passion that burns inside of me.
A tenacious advocate of self-love,
I plan to be a woman who gets it on her own.
To embrace the artist inside of me in every possible nature.
I plan to be myself in the rawest form.
This crazy sensitive, beautiful human being.
This fearlessly strong, hardworking melanin queen.
A dreamer in the most humble form one can be."
She is I. And I am she.
The deeper, rawer form of me speaks.
I find that she's so protective of me.
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