Until You’re Ready

Writing is supposed to ease the mind, settle the soul, captivate thoughts in ink.

What happens when you turn to the paper and pen as if they are your only hope of salvation and together they fail you?

They were the last hope, where even incoherent babble earns its right to be seen, to scream out to others visually.

But when something severs your spirit from your soul, how does the writing become the glue, the paste, the hammer and nails, even the staple gun?

The regular aches and pains are soothed like salve on a burn, the writing gives way to the sweet sigh of relief,

The one that unburdens the body and soul from packages carried long and short term,

Like finally being able to get oxygen into the lungs after losing your inhaler just before an asthma attack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So…where are the airflow and the rejuvenation? Where is that satisfying reward?

This time it’s not helping, breathing is still stunted. What.else.am.I.missing? What.else.am.I.supposed.to.do?

This pain and suffering is new, uncharted territory, like nothing I’ve experienced before.

I don’t want to be on this journey, in this boat, in the storm of my life…and theirs.

Turbulence barely touches the magnitude of complexity, trials and hardships, in fact, this here, is bigger than any word I know.

It’s like when you run out of words, out of tears, out of places to ache, and you’re left with this, this thing with no name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your friends and family try to throw you safety nets, life preservers; they’d throw you a brick if they thought it would help.

But when you look in the mirror, not the one in our bathroom or bedroom…but the ultimate mirror that you can never shatter or truly avoid.

The mirror that reflects all that you are and are not, the one that speaks magically straight thru to your heart, regardless of your earplugs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s when reality hits. It’s you and God and He has raised the hedge that separates you from everyone else trying to help, trying to get in.

He has cornered you and your mirror and is looking for His reflection. He is looking for what you don’t see.

He waits.

Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy

Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy

Where In Da Hell Is Osama?

Does anyone even remember who Osama Bin Laden is?

We have mourned our fallen towers for years.

We have gone as far as celebration about a death.

Did y’all forget that Osama’s last name isn’t Hussein?

.

Situations of a political matter don’t often pull my string.

You see, I preach from the proverbial soap box often, just not about this.

But…I feel alone and stranded on this big rock we call the U.S. of A.

The land of the free and the brave seems to be an isolation tank right now.

.

Am I the only American here screaming, “Where In Da Hell Is Osama?”

.

Now we are a young country, as far as countries go.

I understand that we wage war to protect who we are,

As well as whom we want to be, in the chaotic world as a whole.

Sometimes that next step or the stand itself is a hard one, I get it.

.

What I don’t get, is why I seem like the only one still looking.

Most folk get offended when someone says,

“All y’all dark or pale or yellow folk look the same to me,” and shrugs.

Rightly so…but isn’t that what we are all doing now?

.

Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I could have sworn our troops were on a mission.

Now, let me pause and say that I appreciate our men and women,

The ones that fight for our freedom, and other’s freedoms, every day.

A moment of silence, if you will, for the resting, fighting and fallen military.

1

2

3

4

5

And now I politely ask, “Where In Da Hell Is Osama?”

.

Can I get an “Amen,” or a hand raised way in the back?

Does anyone else feel my anguish and frustration?

Can someone hand me a road map because I’m lost.

Are any of y’all thinking…wait, I thought we hung that fool?

.

Let me introduce you to Mr. Saddam Hussein!

He was the leader of Iraq, not the Taliban!

He made bad blood with G.W. Bush SENIOR,

You see, I suggest, that we have JUST seen the end of the Gulf War.

.

Now, like I said, I don’t do politics most of the time,

But right now I feel like I’m being force fed a stick of dynamite,

Coated with just enough crude oil to make it palatable.

Well guess what? I’m not opening my mouth!

.

No sir! I’ve got a few questions left before I swallow any of this.

Truth: Our buildings went down and the Taliban said, “We did it!”

Next: We sent troops to go get the sons of bitches.

Conclusion: We got him! Saddam is goin’ down!

.

Wait…what? “Where In Da Hell Is Osama?”

.

I have the audacity to think for myself and not follow the flock!

I have been told that I think outside the box.

My answer to that is, “Oh shit! There was a box??”

I’m almost done…stay with me just a few minutes longer.

.

I propose that G Dub Junior went to finish his daddy’s war.

We stormed the Middle East saying, “Get the bastard that dared cross our soil!”

I was supportive too, with my hand raised Black Panther style!

Then, “Here’s the big bad guy, Saddam Hussein! Everyone cheer!!!”

.

Huh? Excuse me? I think I missed a memo somewhere because

All Middle Easterners DO NOT look the same.

Hell, this man even goes by a different name!

He may have done some bad, bad things but...

.

“Where In Da Hell Is Osama?”

Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy

I Think I’m an Anti-Feminist!

It doesn’t take much to see that I’m a female through and through.

I get the typical insecurities, but I also know what’s true.

The right man will see beauty when he wakes up next to me.

When he puts his hand on my stomach and gets to feel his seed.

He’ll feel that chill creep straight up his spine

When I walk into the room and he says, “She’s mine.”

I don’t mind being claimed, how it sounds or how it seems

Because I know deep down, what being his means.

You see, I don’t mind giving him the final say,

I can’t wait for him to come home to me after a long day.

I dream about giving him a tangible product of love.

Every day I remember to tell him he’s my gift from above.

My man is a true man in everyone’s eyes,

When others find out he’s taken, it comes as no surprise.

I enjoy making him dinner and catering to his every need.

Because I understand that a satisfied man is happy to lead.

Know that men are human, and they too can fall from grace.

But as a woman, know when to stay out of his face.

I don’t challenge his role as a lord in my life.

You see, I’ve researched what it means to be a wife.

When I took his name, he became my covering.

To step out from under him, leaves me vulnerable to all other things.

Women, we don’t need to teach a man how to be a man,

Because if we give them the chance, they will make a stand.

I hate to break it to you, all the daughters of the feminist song,

But someone needs to tell you that mama taught you wrong.

She told you, “You can do anything a man can, just as well as he can.”

Lil’ woman in the making let me tell you something. You can NOT be a man!

Your pants may go on like his do any day of the week,

But your seed won’t produce a child with mine as we both reach that peak!

After I’m done, I’ll give you the time you need to reflect,

But right now most of you are in need of a brutal reality check.

After a hard day’s work, women want to relax, release and relate.

But what we are designed to do in this life is to create.

Create a home for a man out of the four walls that he gives.

Make a homemade dinner out of greens, potatoes and ribs!

What a man brings and lays at our feet,

That’s him sowing, so give him something to reap!

I know some of you are looking at me like I’m out of hand,

But if you back out of that man’s place, he’ll have somewhere to stand.

We go around searching and screaming, “Real men are nowhere to be found.”

Shut that mess up and sit your butt down!

The Bible says a man who finds a wife finds a good thing,

So let him find out who you are before begging for a ring.

Good things come to those who wait,

Stop attacking the man before he gets thru the gate!

Learn how to be a support and a true treasure, a gem,

Let him see that you are the prize that he wants to win!

As a reflection of him, I take pride and delight in my position

Because I am protected by him, I don’t worry about my condition.

This means he takes full responsibility for me.

Not just my body and mind, but even my spirituality.

It is such a relief to finally ease into my place.

Because now there’s less stress to wrinkle my face.

Ladies if you want your man to be a true man,

Take the back seat and give that man room to stand!

Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy