A platform. A podium. A stage. A virtual loudspeaker in every corner of the world. A map. A tour guide. A historical document. An ear. A hug. A friend. A translator of every language. A light. A dictionary. A notebook and pen. A portrait on the wall. A wall. A spreadsheet of feeling. A prayer. A song. An instrument. A melody for the broken. A doctor. A midwife. A counselor. A teacher. A healer. Your blog is so much more than a blog. Your blog is a voice.
It was either the fresh smell of an expanding vocabulary or the sweet taste of new words on my tongue. Or perhaps the way they moved around in my mind. It was the way they sounded, like soft wings flapping against the air and the effortless inspiration they stirred while teaching me their foundations. It was 6th Grade English, 8th Grade Creative Writing, and AP Literature in High School. Ms. Lang was a little woman with a big appetite for dissecting poetry and she fed us well. New words have always been motivational in provoking me to write. I would come home from school with an armful under the flap of my notebook and feast on multi-syllable honey. I would string sentences together that really made no sense because all I really wanted to do was use the words. To simile sentences on paper like hanging linen that I could sit back and watch as they dried. Or maybe I’ll cover myself in books and stop to highlight words I didn’t know for an added adventure. Crack open the mind of an author to anatomize his usage of irony. I was the sole proprietor of time that day, which never seemed to move as long as I was building. Eventually, I no longer depended on organized schooling for my fix, but pocket dictionaries and thesauruses found a home in my backpack as new words found a home in my poetry. To this day I look forward to different ways to use overly used words, synonyms that will give my palate something new to get excited about.
Be careful what it is you’re speaking over your life. What you say you are is what you become. Words are spiritual and often we invite negative energies into our space simply by speaking it into existence. Many of you stay negative because your speech is negative and your thoughts are negative. Understand that the brain conforms to whatever idea is pressed upon it. Vibrate higher. Speak healing over your life.
I was browsing my archives and thought it was interesting that I came upon this post I wrote on the same day it was published two years ago, August 10, 2015. I don’t believe in coincidences so I am re-posting this for whoever needs to read it. It is, after all, Throwback Thursday.
What if I told you that inventions were built on your smile? If I told you, that babies were made from your good morning? That because of you someone glided their way home today. Kissed sunshine into the arms of a loved one or sat down to give birth to their first poem. Trembling and afraid, they are virgin to this moment. Nothing to warn them of the Sanchez in their blood or the Maya on their skin but here they are because you loved them. What if I told you that inside the creases of your armpits were hugs that wrote masterpieces, which sang platinum albums, and wiped away tears as easily and as gently as music? What if I told you that your words are music? That someone somewhere is listening to you strum their pain with your fingers. That with your words alone you Lauryn Hill them back to Zion. Never underestimate the hope you unknowingly gift to others, like slow songs that mean nothing until you are desperate enough to listen to the words.
Because I can create peace in my mind
Even if the world is not all that peaceful
Because people write their truths
And when the heart is contextualized
hidden gems are found
waiting to be resurrected
I read because reading is valuable
And because books are the only place
where you can learn for free
I read because books are the only schools
I can carry with me
I read to learn from people
who came before me
I read to hear voices
to understand others
to listen to hearts
I read to find the person between the lines.
I read because not everyone can.
Don’t act like these little black letters have no home outside the blank page. Like murder can’t come falling from your mouth. Like lawlessness can’t come ripping through towns like torn flesh from heavy winds. Choose your words as if the next phrase has the potential to destroy. Examine the shape of them as they exit your mouth. Taste the intention one syllable at a time, for corroded speech is too often praised these days and reveals the unpolished stains of the heart. Deception brimming the mind and falling from the mouth. A surge of power tap dancing in the air only to build nothing on the ground. No substance. No foundation. Just emotion all over the place. A melting pot of empty tongues. Be careful what you say least truth reveals the fairy-tale hopscotching around in your mouth. A collection of letters too light to gravity the ground. Too corroded to fly. Dare you pretend the taste of burnt ash that fell from your mouth and consumed a life did not first have a home in the heart. Choose your words but first guard your heart for out of it the mouth speaks. Amazing all this power in the tongue. This tiny member leaving bodies smashed up against the blog; the stench of bereavement emanating from the first sentence of a post. Choose your words as if the next phrase has the potential to destroy. Because it does.