The Beauty of Pain & Triumph

Poetry

Since I was never able to publish my poetry anywhere, I wanted to share it with my Girls Anthem family. This is a reminder to you that God wastes nothing. He will use it when it’s time. Never think your work is in vain. I wrote some of these poems between 2010 and 2012, and it’s now 2025. I hope you enjoy them for this issue’s Soul Entertainment. Since this is The Beauty issue, we’ll call these poems the beauty of pain and triumph. Included in this is a personal essay I wrote titled “I Am Sarafina” about being a woman of color in Hollywood and how it has affected my writing.

Love Letter To My Soul

Photo by Bashmutumba

I decided to write a love letter to my soul, thinking nobody would know
But then I put the pen to the letter and I realized I’d feel better
If I explored this feeling with my sisters and brothers
If I could encourage others, help someone to feel something new
Discover an internal strength, one worth the pursuit
Then here I present this love letter to you
Dear Soul, I love you so,
At times I’ve depleted so much from you
Allowing myself to not see the truth, I felt ugly and used
Yet, my own hand was the cause of the abuse
So many times I tried to blame those around me
I felt shamed, yet not once did I take ownership
Of what was mine to claim
I didn’t know I could love myself, better than he could
I didn’t know I could look in the mirror, see beauty beyond my looks
I thought it was worth it to give myself to him
Yet, not once did I consider the pain of my sin
I thought I could not forgive, and still smile
Yet, I was angry and they had moved on, making life worthwhile
I wanted to convince myself that being thick with curves was the way to go
But I realized, even in this size I’m more woman than you’ll ever know
It’s not about the girl on the magazine, but it’s about every woman
Who lives her life as bold as can be
I was stuck on myself, selfish at times, allowing my soul to be undermined
Ready to slit my wrist just because I had been dissed
How could I try to punish my soul like this?
Rejection sometimes means protection,
Yet, what frightened me was the amount of no’s I received,
I felt like I had earned the disease
The disease that says I ain’t worth a thing
Then I realized my worth was more than a man
Now, soul, I’m not saying being loved isn’t beautiful
But how many times have I looked for love in a cubicle?
A cubicle, a compartment of space, that portion of something
Yet God says I can have all this and I settle for nothing
So Dear Soul, before I go, I need you to know
That I vow to grow, never let my pains outweigh my gains
Never let my heart get caught up in the dark
When I fall because something got in my way
I promise to jump up, try again the same day
I refuse to be abused by the pressure of my own muse,
I’ll just lay claim to every promise in the Big Book
And if what you see isn’t something you enjoy
Then allow your soul to employ
Every opportunity it needs, to break free from all negativity

The Skin I'm In

Photo by Nicole Berro

Because my skin is black,
I’ve learned to appreciate my beauty
Actually, what you see is a rare brown cutie
I am not defined, by my race, looks, color or creed
But I am defined by the beauty that flows out of me
From the days of Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks,
Those who’ve led the way to a fresh start,
All honor is due and I take nothing from their mission
But it was more than just a movement
It was freedom, but it was written
That’s what makes this month significant,
But the celebration lasts a lifetime
Never mind that they only chose 28 days to let us shine
Every day, if we choose to win,
We can celebrate until year end
But it’s the color of our skin that seems to keep us locked in
Because instead of recognizing what we own,
We sit around with a moan and groan
Crying over things that don’t mean a thing
Things that don’t make us, but we let it break us
Then WE play the race card, giving out name cards
Of blame and shame,
Not taking responsibility,
Holding others hostage for our accountability
Yet, they did it all
Our ancestors answered the call
They were willing and able
They didn’t question, hesitate or complain
Some were steered from their families
And some endured great pain
Yet we cry about all the things we didn’t yet gain
Oh, what a shame
I’m sorry you feel like that should belong to you,
And I’m sorry you feel like others should cater to you,
Yet, what did you do?
If it isn’t your hand at work then don’t claim the prize
Don’t try to demise those who you despise
Simply work on self,
Take ownership of your own wealth and health
Stop bragging on other people’s stuff,
Cuz whether they buy it or rent it,
If you didn’t spend a dime, then why waste your time?
When will we free our minds?
When will we grow up, man up, woman up?
But don’t give up
Or is that too much to ask?
At last,
I just wish someone would recognize the gift
Of the beauty that reigns through all of our veins
Whether the color is dark or light
We all can participate in the fight
Teaching the younger generations the truth
So when they become older,
They can see too
That the skin I’m in
Wasn’t a mistake from the beginning…

Heart Stain

Photo by Orione Conceiao

As the water thrust itself against my window pane
I realize my heart still carries the stain
A stain of pain is all that I gained
And I have no idea how to sustain
But what if I took this pain
Turned it into hurt
And released my heart
So my heart could burst
Burst to get rid of the hurt
And take the pain for what it’s worth
But it’s not worth much
Because now my hurt has become prone to his touch
A touch of glass that scars from my past
Continue to let it last, and so
I can’t move past this painful gash
How I hurt so deep,
Now as I lay me down to sleep,
I remember my God,
My soul to keep
Because the pane is more stained
Than it was when we began
So, I’m mad,
Cause you took my pain,
And you used it for bad
You didn’t think about what it would take,
You just decided to create,
The pain in my heart,
Now it’s back to the start
Of feeling the water
That pours on my heart
On the window pane that glows in the dark
But I’ve taken it in and let go of my sin
Falling in love like this from the beginning,
Meant trying a new thing
Being open to pursue,
A love I never knew,
So though the bucket is full
From the tears of my pool,
My heart stain still remains
But to be loved by you
I’d be willing to do it again

The Ring

Photo W.W.

We all want one,
Something to flash,
Something to hold,
Something to call our very own
But how much will it cost?
Is the price worth it?
Well, of course it is, right
Cause it pays to be the boss
But little does she know,
The five carats may bling
But she can’t pay for that ring
Cuz it’s about to cost her everything
He wants her life
So he goes for the gold
Taking everything she owns
Her pride, dignity and even her soul
He told her she better not ever leave
And she better take heed
Cause all his records show
He can make someone bleed
But she’s trying to succeed at this
Her momma said once you’re in it
It’s full of bliss
Yet she forgot to mention
The poisonous kiss
Of a snake who can’t wait
To break a young woman’s spirit
Once she’s into him
He makes sure she fears it
Everything about him says he’s gotta going on
But this dude is wack,
How’d she get connected to the lame one?
He roams around like a lion
Seeking someone to kill, steal and destroy
Poor little lady, he’s taken all your joy
Now you can’t go back
Cause mom’s got a new one
And you’d be busting up her groove
But wait, don’t make another move
Seek Him first,
The wisdom from above
Cause what you thought was real
Wasn’t any kind of love
It was strong, it was potent
You got bit by the bug
But it wasn’t ever supposed to last long
Cause this dude wasn’t meant for you
You got caught up in the hype of the ring
The dress, the endless list of guest
Yet, not once did you think
About the price of the bling
Did you happen to notice the ring around your eye,
Is the exact same size?
As the ring that you fling,
In front of all your girlies
Putting up a front,
Talking about “Ooh, girl, that’s my boo”
Yet, he makes you look like a fool
You mentioned he loved everything about you
Yet, you don’t even know his middle name
Where’s his momma, where’s his daddy
Baby, do you not see the pattern
It’s a waste, a sad lost
Yet, you can redeem yourself
Just take a look at all you’ve lost
Pray for a release
Ask Him to give you peace
Be open to the change
It may feel strange
But in the end,
The cost of the ring
Wouldn’t have been worth it to begin
Because you’ll realize the importance
Of never settling for less than the best
You’ll realize once you’ve passed
This was all just a test
A test of love, faith, pain and loss
No matter what it cost
You can gain it back
If you just listen to your heart
Go back to the start
Leave him in the dark
Leave the house, the car, the dog and the cat
Don’t look back
There’s a new vision
A new mission
You don’t have to be afraid of anything
Oh, by the way,
Make sure you leave the ring
Cuz as much as it would be nice
To hold onto the bling
The ring is what blinded you
And you don’t need it to remind you
Of the years and time you no longer have
Just pick up your new bag
Let go of your past
So until the next time
You get a new ring,
Remember,
Real love don’t cost a thing

I Held My Stomach

Photo by Cottonbro Studios

I held my stomach the day I found out

I walked around with shame

Holding my head down

Feeling as low as the ground

How did I get here?

I wasn’t sure who to tell

It wasn’t like I had asked him

To touch me or love me

He chose me, because he knew

I was empty

And taking what little I had left

Would leave me more helpless

More helpless than before

Just so he could score,

I lost, the pain, what a cost

I have no idea how the door opened

But I can’t close it back

Cause now, I’ve given myself to them all

They don’t have to call

I was standing there,

Ready to receive

I was no longer rushing to leave

It became a part of who I am

I didn’t have to be afraid of them

They wanted, I wanted

Now, we both are happy

Though I sometimes feel low

My currency helps the flow

Of the tears that stream

I don’t yell and scream

I take it all in

And hold my stomach once again

This time, they say I can’t do it

I’m too far along

I thought if I waited

I would change my mind

But then I discovered

I don’t know who is mine

So I can’t take that chance

Being another statistic

So I hold my stomach

Down to the next clinic

Opening the door

I see every face and more

This time I scream and I shout

I just want out

I never asked for this

I never wanted his kiss

But he took it from me

And I pay for it daily

I can make it

I’ve done it before

So I just hold my stomach some more

And hope for the best

I don’t think about the rest

Even though I feel helpless

Because the more I hold my stomach

And the more my body aches

The more I realize the cost

Of all that I’ve lost

But I no longer hold my head in shame

I just bow down to the pain

And wake up the next morning

To hold my stomach again

Locked In

Photo by Nappy

My caged bird doesn’t sing

It cries and it screams

It’s caged indeed

With the pain of all the memories

Crying at night, not sleeping at all

Managing to walk but not first learning to crawl

My heart gets heavy every time I hear them call

Out to mommy, who isn’t there at all

So I’m left to pick up the pieces when they fall

Doctor’s visits, teachers calling, I’m stalling

They wouldn’t understand,

They’d try to judge and take us away

But mommy has bills to pay

I want to live a little,

Enjoy life, but can’t cause every day I fight

Just to keep my head above water

I feel like I have a daughter

But she’s my sister,

But knows nothing about that connection

For her I’m “mommy” and I give the affection

She longs for, but I hurt

For her it’s affection, for me its desert

Its neglect but I don’t fret

That I don’t get to call out to anyone

Then there’s the son,

Not me, but the other one

Mom just figured, the more the merrier

For me, this couldn’t be any scarier

How do I manage with three mouths to feed?

When I myself, am only sixteen

My grades are slipping, but the teachers don’t know

They think I don’t care, but they have no idea

I want to be a surgeon one day,

But how, when the dream seems so far away

I can’t even finish high school

Because the little ones need food

I want to make sure they are okay,

It would be selfish to leave them this way

But why, I’m not a dad

I didn’t ask for this

The frustration I feel,

It’s so real

Neighbors watching, whispering

Don’t lend a helping hand

But will be the first to say

Something bad about this young man

I want out, I could run away

But then she smiles,

And my day becomes okay

But the locked in feeling doesn’t go away

I just wish momma knew how I felt

I wish she was hear to listen

But if she has to be away,

Working and slaving all day

I just need to be let out

I feel empty and I need to see

Somebody, please hand me a key

So I’m not locked in anymore

And I can be free

---

I Am “Sarafina”

Sarafina Taught Me

She taught me strength, she taught me willpower

I watched her for two hours,

Show others that even if she had to bow down in that moment,

The fight inside would only get stronger

I was eight-years-old when I first encountered racial insensitivity. It was right after seeing Sarafina, the 1992 film that centered around the story of a young woman who refused to accept, along with hundreds of other students like her, a new medium being introduced into their school. The whippings, the brutalizing and the demeaning of people who looked like me, left me disturbed, but not scared. When the movie was over, my mother and I went to the restroom. As we washed our hands, a tall, white woman stood at the sink next to us, turned to my mother with a bold smile, and said, “I’m glad I’m not black.”

Now, that left me scared. My mother didn’t know how to react and neither did I. Not scared to be who I am or scared to embrace my identity, but scared that if people could be this insensitive to make such a dismissive remark, then where would that leave the eight-year-old girl like me twenty years from now? More disturbing than an eight-year-old seeing images that would scare the average child - the blood, the beatings, the dogs let loose to tear into the flesh of students who looked like her - was the comment that left that eight-year-old girl wondering if she would forever encounter ideologies and thinking like this that would make her question her place in society.

What I thought would be a horrible life-long memory, turned into something that made me realize the power of diversity in entertainment. Over the years, my love for my culture and entertainment continued to collide as I witnessed television shows that symbolized the unity, value and importance of embracing a multicultural experience. You see, that same eight-year-old little girl was able to run in the house on Friday nights and catch four of her favorite families on the small screen - The Winslows, Mr. Cooper and the crew, The Matthews and the beautifully blended Fosters and Lamberts.

These four shows created stories with messages that resonated with children and families during that time; consistent messages that spoke to everyday challenges and struggles that parents, caregivers and young people faced. They also highlighted the importance of the family unity. The new journey that lasted for two hours every Friday, would be what caused her love for writing and television to grow; one that made her realize how important it is to appreciate the multicultural, multifaceted way that God created the world and the people who occupy it.

I never wanted anyone to feel what that little eight-year-old girl felt. The seed that was planted that night in the movie theaters could’ve reaped a horrible harvest had I allowed bitterness, anger and retaliation to take root. Instead, I allowed new seeds to be planted as I sat down with the same four families every week. So, when I set out to write my first book, I didn’t shy away from the rawness of the African American experience. I instead wrote exactly what is real. Twelve books later and I know that my pen only has power when I’m truthful to write the experiences that can help shape the mind of another eight-year-old little girl, regardless of her race, in a positive way that allows her and others to embrace our similarities and appreciate our differences.

Bloodline Beats

From our streets to our men, we are filled with hidden gems,

But it’s often covered in grime, crime and hate,

Often shutdown by the media that fills us with fake,

News that bruise, stories that discriminate

Yeah, my city is rough, but it’s also great

Great for you, great for me, great for he and great for she,

The place filled with much life and culture,

Gets overshadowed by the vulture,

Of senseless violence, corruption and crazy pain

You smear our names in blood, but don’t recognize the flood,

The flood of empty homes where father’s leave and don’t return,

Of places where abuse burns and becomes a home,

A place where trafficking is the norm,

Because girls want to be loved by a stranger,

Figuring that love can’t be any danger,

Promiscuity becomes a promise,

And men with blood money becomes honest,

But what if we recognized that bloodline beats,

Aren’t meant to be lived in the streets,

The only way we can create the legacy we desire,

Is to love and be our own sense of fire,

This is my first letter to a love in Philly,

Because I know it exists,

Sometimes it comes in the form of an ironclad fist,

Sometimes it shows up in the midst,

Of a heated fight between two lovers ready to go to blows,

Anger and dysfunction is all they seem to know,

But I know that love exists,

It just comes in a package you may not expect,

A package where bloodline beats are a mysterious concept,

Where blood meets the streets is a finalized precept,

Because bloodline reaps our parent’s trespass,

And bloodline seeps into the folds of our past,

But the love I want and need,

I found in between these streets,

In the puddle of water left after the storm,

And in my heart filled with love not willing to conform