A Mother 20/20 hindsight

I called my mother by her first name my entire life. I can’t remember if I ever called her mother, mommy or mama. We struggled until the day she died with forgiveness. I thought had forgiven her because I tried to be a good daughter, my efforts came with a huge sacrifice of my own wellbeing. I won’t go into detail about our relationship.

I am writing this to honor my mother and all mothers everywhere. The mother’s trying to mother but do not know how. The mothers that have sacrificed their own souls seeking love. The mothers that abandoned because they were abandoned. The loving mother’s trying to protect and keep the children out of harm’s way. Even if the way is herself.

Our mothers are human beings with faults unique to their purpose.  We judge them based on our denial of our own imperfections. All humans are all uniquely fitted specifically for the journey we are on.  Lately my mother, my daughter’s journey’s as mothers and all mothers have been on my mind.

No matter what any mother has not done for the fruit of her womb, all human beings are worthy of love and the opportunity to heal.

Love is the salve for the women who could not birth but still mothered.

There are a lot of myths attached to motherhood. Recently I had to revisit how I felt about my mother. Healing is a process that brings with each level new insights.

I truly believe our souls choose the specific circumstances needed to evolve to the next level of healing and to fulfill purpose.

I am sure my testimony and my transparency have saved lives. Most importantly though, the healing of my family’s soul has been taken to another level. Some strongholds have been destroyed through the healing I have done and will continue to do. There is still work to be done. My children are doing the work required for their generation.

As I reflect on my relationship with my mother, I pray her soul will find more peace and healing in the next lifetime. I am doing what she could not. My daughters are aware and open to therapy. They are actively doing what I did not start to do until the age of 50.

I am alive to teach my grandchildren about breathing, meditation, and honoring the God residing in their souls since the day they were born.  I am teaching them about the importance of honoring their ancestors. It is vitally important they know where they came from and the enormous possibilities of where they can go.

I am the Matriarch. My responsibility is to leave my family in a better place spiritually by breaking the chains of generational dysfunction with love and knowledge of who they are.

There is a peace I have this Mother’s Day that I have never had.

A lot of something bad happened to my mother. Her entire life she was mistreated. I personally know of a rape that happened to her at the age of 9. She was treated like the black sheep, the outcast, the crazy one, the little fast tail girl.

I believe they were just not aware of mental health issues and how to help her. I don’t excuse them; I just understand that I am blessed with access to the world wide web.

I had the knowledge and support to change. I decided to change. I did the work and am yet doing the work to change.

This is for all the mothers, especially the mothers that are raising my grandchildren. Their shiny intelligence is being nurtured with love by these beautiful women. All with their unique journeys that include the little souls that chose them as their mothers.

I witness progress and healing in our family because of the loving energy of my beautiful daughters from my womb and my daughters in love. All are phenomenal women. Every one of them is a great mother in my eyes and heart. The proof of the healing of our ancestors is evident in my grandchildren’s accomplishments, the innocence seen in their eyes, and the kind hearts that their parents, my children have nurtured.

This is my legacy.

A Mother

A letter to survivors

A letter to survivors

A letter to survivors


— Read on thesoulspoet.com/2016/10/24/a-letter-to-survivors-it-never-gets-old/

A necessary post. Sending gentle hugs to all those strong enough to ask for help.

Why I Did it.

Some have asked, “Yvette why did you do it?”

My answer, I did it because I wanted to.

I did it because it needed to be done.

Somebody had to do it.

F that mess about keeping our business in our house.

That is precisely why I did it,

it was time out for letting abusers get away with it.

It was time out for others controlling the narrative about my life.

It had to be done.

Why should I have walked around in shame?

Why should I have hidden the marks placed on my body

by someone that said they loved me?

Why should I have worn long sleeves so I would not be ashamed

when people asked how that happened?

Was I supposed to walk around in secrecy

trying to cover up your indecency?

Hell no, I did it because it had to be done.

It was time out for people getting away with hurting me.

I did it for all the girls and boys that went to sleep weeping

because they could not speak their truth.

I did it so you would suffer the shame that you threw.

I threw it back at you

and all those that thought they got away with hurting others.

I did it so you would get help,

or crawl into a hole and leave us good people alone.

Be gone or get some help.

I did it because I needed to be sure we were through.

I did it because I wanted to.

The same way you wanted to hurt me.

But I was not trying to hurt.

I did it so a way could be paved.

So someone would have courage to do what I did

I bet you thought this was about you.

Mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’

5.2.2021.12.29a

Positive Funk

Positive Funk

is where you go to work on self
you can’t take anyone along
funky place in your spirit
filled with your own bittersweet song

you don’t mind staying funky for a while
cause you know there won’t be a crowd
they don’t understand you see
about this  funky place you be

but you very well comprehend
this positive funk you are in
this funk is a good funk
the kind that builds you up

you don’t smell this
you feel it
you welcome the enriching experience
don’t share  it
cause you couldn’t if you wanted to
it’s designed just for you

it’s too funky for your loved ones
so they just let you do what you gotta do
this funky place is fertile ground
where all the seeds of life are growing
you’ll find pride, greed and all the  negative emotions

but be patient cause positivity will soon be flowing
shortly you’ll see the love peace and contentment
that this place is grooming
when you come out you’ll be smelling like a rose

positive funk produces a unique kind of knowing
that after the thunder, lightning and stormy rains of life
things are clean and fresh smelling
after digging deep into the dirty issues of life
wallowing in the mud of pain and strife
looking at yourself and all your ugly ways

positive funk will produce
a brand new you on a whole new level
you’ll be aware of all the pitfalls
that took you to this stinking valley

this funk is positive because of the result
if you desire to be the best
you must look at your own funky shit
then I bet you’ll figure out what’s best for you

you’ll be renewed, refreshed
and have a new constitution
telling everybody it’s because of
positive funk your life had a revolution

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”

I finally killed George.

Healing is amazing. The man that raped me at 5 was named George. Before therapy anytime I heard the name George I would immediately be transported in my mind to him raping me. So I avoided George at all times. If I overheard the name I had to put my armor on. Without even knowing it that name had the power to send me to my bed for days.

Where I work the Fitness Instructor’s name is George. We were in an African performing arts group in the late ’90s together but I knew him by another name then.

I do believe that my steps are divinely ordered.  I believe this situation was tailor-made for me. When I first heard his name I did not run home to my bed. I don’t even think I recognized it as a past trigger.

Because he worked there his name was called out frequently. I would sometimes give George a ride home. On one occasion he asked me to take him to Walmart and then we would go to lunch, his treat. Well, the place “he” had chosen objectified women. I felt uncomfortable because of the staff’s attire. Most people’s bra and panties have more coverage than these young women were wearing.

He started going on about someone he knew really liked asses. I stopped him mid-story and told him that I did not objectify women. After that, I had to set some clear boundaries with George. The women at work say he was testing me. I stopped being chummy with him.

George had a stroke. Every day now his name is called out by people asking how he is doing. I am the person at the front desk. I am usually the one giving an update about his progress.

The George that raped me at five is dead to me now.

I have become desensitized to that name. Flashbacks, nightmares, and hypervigilance caused by George are a thing of the past.

This is what healing feels like.

The George that raped me at 5 was murdered in prison. I don’t know this to be true but my memory is that my Father got the word out that he had raped his little girl and they killed him.

Before therapy, he was still alive for me. I wanted to kill him so badly. I thought that it was unfair that he was dead. I was angry because I could not make him suffer.

As I write this I take deep breaths and release any residual energy still tied to that event in my life. I made it to the promised land of happiness.

Ding Dong George is Dead, Finally.

Soul Deep

There has always been something deep inside my soul that has kept me going.  Writing poetry allowed my soul to bleed, my soul spoke to me through the words on the pages.

Sometimes I run across something I’ve written long ago and I don’t remember pouring these words onto the paper.  It is usually profound, honest and deeply moving.

Most of my best poetry has been penned while tears rolled down my face.  When the ache in my heart can’t be expressed verbally or the pain is unbearable writing is the only release for the anguish.

I want to share the gifts I have been given.  Each poem expressed something that my mouth could not utter. Each poem a letting of the painful emotions buried for decades.  Words on a paper are safe, but it is time to share.

May every poem be a balm for another soul. needing to know they are not alone.  Hopefully just knowing that another soul made it over to the other side will encourage other women to start their journey to healing.

love, sex, and abuse

I kept recreating the scenario where they would leave because I pushed them away and then I could cry victim that they left. I wanted them to come back and love me the way I deserved.

Childhood Emotional Neglect sent me a powerful, subliminal message that my feelings didn’t matter.

I kept looking for the unconditional love that only a mother could give. Now I know though that even mothers can’t give that kind of love sometimes. That is the biggest myth of motherhood. All mothers don’t love their babies because some don’t know how. Some mothers know but lack the resources and support. I was pregnant at 16. I married at 17. I escaped that marriage at 18 with three children. By 19 I was depressed, dealing with PTSD from childhood sexual abuse, neglect, and poverty. The only real support I had was my disabled grandmother.

We are designed to benefit from the experience of loving nurturing touch. If you don’t get that as a child, you will search everywhere to find it. I was sexualized and raped at 5, I believed sex was love.

I subconsciously chose situations that felt familiar to me. My toxic environment had shaped me. My mother’s violent relationships were what I was born into. The cycle was intrinsically wired into my brain. They would love each other one minute and the next they were fighting and then they would fuck. It was like that for her entire life.

Subconsciously this is all I knew about relationships. Studies have proven that the first 6 years of a child’s life is when they are the most impressionable. What children learn about the world during this time will be what is subconsciously their default. This is one reason I kept choosing the same people.

I was hoping for a different outcome with each lover but doing the same things I had been programmed to do over and over.

The marvelous thing about a brain is we can rewire it; we can create another default. That is what I am taking the time to do my next level of healing. I am not taking time to grieve over something that was not good for me. That is wasted energy. I see the issue and I understand the why, I know how to fix the issue.

Now my time will be spent being grateful for today. I survived. I have learned. There is some undoing that needs to be done but I am able.

I don’t need another project. No more goals will be set at this time. I just want to slow down and be with the love inside of me. I just want to sit and think about whatever pops into my head. I want to read the books I have on my TO Read LIST. I want to get lost in some sexy Fiction.

It is time for a reset. All my circuits will be busy just loving life and enjoying this big family that God gave to me. I have really accomplished a lot in my 50+ years on this earth. I measure my accomplishments by how many people’s lives have been affected in a positive way by anything I have shared about my healing journey.

As a little girl, I asked God to use me to help somebody so my living would not be in vain. It is time for Release.

to the next lover, she grew up

I know I am healing because in the past I would be on to the next lover. This time though, I am guarded. I should have always had a fence around my heart. It is healthy to safeguard everything about your person.

That is a good thing. I should be protecting my energy. That is self-love. I guess I have finally mothered the hurt little girl in me. I grew up in an environment where I was not protected. I had no clue about boundaries.

My grandmother allowed me to smoke cigarettes at eleven. I was home alone responsible for another child just 6 years younger than me. I was ‘the’ adult. I literally ran the house. I made the grocery list, went shopping, and cooked the food as well as cleaned up after meals. I paid the bills and balanced the checkbook. I did all these things every day from the age of 11. I behaved like a grown woman because I had grown woman responsibilities.

With therapy, I was able to understand that I had had no childhood. I was abandoned and left to my own defenses at a very early age.

Now that I know how to protect my body, mind and energy, and soul. I understand the behavior that was not serving me well in my adult life. As a child the behavior protected me.

I am still unlearning a lot of misinformation and dysfunction but at least I am not on to the next. I am confident in being able to love myself first. I am confident that although I still will have to deal with the fear of being alone, I am not alone. God is with me because God lives in me.

I am enough for me.

the goodbye poem

it is a sad commentary that our love would end like this

you may not feel anything or don’t even care

my heart is breaking cause

i know this time i don’t have any more love to give you

so you can throw it back in my face

discard me like gum on the bottom of your shoe

i have always been there for you

rescuing, rescuing and rescuing you over and over

only for you to discard, devalue me

i am stronger than your bullying

i know i have been a good woman to you

both of us know i don’t deserve for you

to shut down and treat me as if i am a bothering irritation

i don’t have any more

i hurt

i have hurt

i  give

i have given

been there and gave whatever was needed for our life

i wanted to be your wife

you said we would be together forever

i believed we could make it or else

i would not have come back

but your mistreatment has for the last time

driven me out of the door

all of your excuses don’t mean shit to me anymore

burned all my bridges running back and forth to you

but god got me

i will be alright

will you?

because you will miss me deeply

someone and i hate to say this but it is true,

will treat you worse than you did me

i don’t wish that for you

but you can’t miss the reaping you must do

i will pray for you

we could have ended better

we should have been better than this

why would i stay where i am not wanted

i don’t know how i am going to make it

but i know god knows that i deserve better

i hope better for you

but i am through

by mozayik ‘the souls’ poet’

Positive Funk

Positive Funk

is where you go to work on self
you can’t take anyone along
funky place in your spirit
filled with your own bittersweet song

you don’t mind staying funky for a while
cause you know there won’t be a crowd
they don’t understand you see
about this  funky place you be

but you very well comprehend
this positive funk you are in
this funk is a good funk
the kind that builds you up

you don’t smell this
you feel it
you welcome the enriching experience
don’t share  it
cause you couldn’t if you wanted to
it’s designed just for you

it’s too funky for your loved ones
so they just let you do what you gotta do
this funky place is fertile ground
where all the seeds of life are growing
you’ll find pride, greed and all the  negative emotions

but be patient cause positivity will soon be flowing
shortly you’ll see the love peace and contentment
that this place is grooming
when you come out you’ll be smelling like a rose

positive funk produces a unique kind of knowing
that after the thunder, lightning and stormy rains of life
things are clean and fresh smelling
after digging deep into the dirty issues of life
wallowing in the mud of pain and strife
looking at yourself and all your ugly ways

positive funk will produce
a brand new you on a whole new level
you’ll be aware of all the pitfalls
that took you to this stinking valley

this funk is positive because of the result
if you desire to be the best
you must look at your own funky shit
then I bet you’ll figure out what’s best for you

you’ll be renewed, refreshed
and have a new constitution
telling everybody it’s because of
positive funk your life had a revolution

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”