I learned how to paint the prettiest pictures with my words at a young age. It gave me retreat from the actuality that my existence held limited matter in its being. A disdain that grew roots in a world that constantly left me hung upside-down with no resource of strength to right myself into a standing position.
So, I spent hours in books, turning pages with fingers emphasized with pain that only felt life through paper cuts. Characters became friends and family comfy in the warmth of my escape. And over time I became bonded by the binding of compelling covers.
There was euphoria there. For a moment. Then I grew up and the shelter of fiction became the bane of my adulthood. Words were no longer subtle with their impact. They criticized my self-esteem until the need to dream became critical. Making my every step into a living autobiography.
So, I take leaps and bounds through this whirlwind of adulting, knowing that I can’t fantasize myself out of the reality of me. Blessed by trials that boldly outline my words with ink I drew from the well of my soul. Black, beautiful, and gifted with the ability to sustain the spiral we call life.
So, I have to write. I cannot resist the urge to spill my truth from a river that flows deeper than the hue of my melanin. Re-writing pages in a society that has forgotten that every human being has a story.
I have a story. One, I once kept out of the reach of my own reality for far too long.
The Brilliance of Her Art She grows bolder... Outlining the meaning of self-love in the stroke Of her choices, Shining brilliant In the light of her Changing portrait... Daring to be vivid against The shadow of struggles, Learning how to pale the blues that muddle The calming hues of her emotions... Huddled in the shades of Her will to free flow In the color of her melanin... Building upon the canvas of her hearth... That will eventually birth... peace, In the re-master piecing Of hurt Into hand painted work Toned deep in the brush strokes of her life... Escaping the mute of water colors... That clash along borders Showing strong in the strife Of her pigment... As she grows bolder Shining brilliant, vivid Against the shadows... Painting something beautiful in the matter Of her transparency... Debbie M. Allen