Where Life Begins

Another Mother’s Day is quickly approaching and my thoughts are on the mothers who raised me; my biological mother, my grandmother, my aunties and the many older women that have mentored me along the way; they are countless and each hold a special place in my heart. I have been a mother now for 15 years and it is by far the toughest job I’ve been tasked with. It’s also a role that continues to grow me, teach me, strengthen me and motherhood continuously challenges me. I would say the challenges are because I operate a single parent household, but that’s not it. I would say it’s because I’m raising my youngest child whose biological father has abandoned her, but that’s not it either. The challenges come with raising children to respect, honor and love themselves and others unconditionally; not allowing anyone to take advantage of them. The challenges come from making sure that they are well educated, active and occupied. The challenges come from ensuring that they are safe, healthy and supported. The challenges come from trying to be the best possible parent to them that we know how, while coping with our own unresolved issues.

My thoughts are also on the many fathers that are raising children where the mothers are absent, the fathers that struggle with grooming their little girl’s hair, but try they best and keep it moving. My thoughts are on countless grandparents raising children, hats off to you. My thoughts are on the women whom lost their children in the womb, after birth and to the streets, my heart cries out with yours. Raising children takes conscious effort; it’s a testament to our unselfishness as parents; putting their needs before our own.

The past few weeks I’ve been quiet and I can’t put my finger on it. My mood has been slightly pensive, in a good way. As a mother, I miss the mark often and I’ve been exploring two very tough questions that I never thought to ask myself before; “What did I miss and How did I miss it,” relating to several situations that caused me pain beyond belief. Maybe these questions have caused my quietness. Some of us love to criticize our peers concerning the way we raise our children, but truth be told, not one of us have any room to do so, which doesn’t stop us, but we need to be careful about that. We all do our best and sometimes our best isn’t good enough and that’s just the reality of it all. In exploring the “what did I miss and how” I hope to become enlightened, recognizing what do to differently next time, that’s all I can do.

This mother’s day, send love and light to the many mothers you know, the many fathers you know raising children without the help of the mother, your aunts, grandmothers, and your sister friends; especially those who are hoping to conceive.

Wishing you a very special and hopeful mother’s day, with love,

~Shamina

THE RHYTHM

The rhythm is in my being

Wrapped up in every fiber I was created with

My womb was created to procreate 

What’s between my inner thighs is more than an opening for you to come inside

The rhythm was placed in my bosom

Hearty 

Beating 

Blood pumping to be a mother

Not for you to use and abuse

My soul was not for me to taint with distasteful morality

The rhythm is in my innateness to nurture

To love unconditionally trusting blindly

Sexed to oblivion and left with resentment stained on my sheets

Savaged violently as if I were a piece of meat

The rhythm lies in my throne to which I am queen

Esteemed with royalty and crowned

You were dethroned as I’ve come into my own

Kingdom of motherhood I own

Here Comes Another One

As we prepare to bring 2012 to a close, I reflect on what a wonderful year this has been for me. Yes, I’ve encountered some tests, but I am still here, living, kicking and loving like never before, and who I loved the most this year was definitely me and my babies. 2012 Was definitely a year of firsts for me. I’ve done things that I had been afraid to attempt in the past, and although everything didn’t work out the way I expected, it worked out all the same. I have learned so much more about the woman that I am and finally learning to trust the process and progression of the development of the woman that I’ve not yet become. I put me, my wants, desires and needs to the forefront of my life and I settled for nothing in 2012.

I’ve learned that there are always issues that arise in our lives, but every issue doesn’t involve lack, struggle or a battle to be fought and won. Some things you simply must bask in the lesson, find peace and let go. Folks will always have an opinion of you, some may even believe they know you a lot better then you know yourself, which is cool, folks are entitled to their opinions. But I have held strong to knowing who I am, my hang-ups, faults, my issues, as we all have them, and I’ve embraced them. I was no victim to any circumstance in 2012 and I have been completely liberated from guilt, shame, and feelings of inadequacy and inferiority.

This year I landed a new position which I love, working with some great colleagues, full of knowledge, I have finished my first book, awaiting its publication and I have several irons in the fire. Yes, I have much more to work on, but I am here, my children are healthy and I am secure, working towards the dreams that enter my consciousness, asking no one for anything, but tapping into the power that lives in me to will my innermost desires into fruition. Things can only become bigger and brighter in the New Year and I am concentrating on all the good in my life!!!

Happy New Year everyone! Wishing you nothing but peace, joy and many blessings for 2013.

With love and light,
Shamina

More of me…

I am love, I am light, I am blessed, I am smiles, I am butterfly kisses, I am deep, I am sensual, I am a lady, I am hood, I am intelligent…

I am so much more than I give myself credit for!

I am beautiful, inside and out, I am territorial, I protect my den, I am laughter, I am hurt and pain, I am confident, I am a conqueror, I am a queen, I am long legs, fat thighs with pretty lips and a beautiful smile...

I am anger, I am attitude, I am spoiled, I am emotional, I am funny acting, I am standoffish, I am. Simply, I am a lot of things...

Preciousness

February is a month of love, Black history and culture, remembrance.  This month of February I have been reminded of all of these things, especially how precious a day is, the preciousness of life itself.  I have reminded my children about the struggles we have dealt with as a race and culture and that we must do the very best that we can to walk into our purpose and passion.  Our ancestors didn’t do much complaining, with far less resources, and they simply did what they had to do to survive.

It appears that I am still in this season of lack.  Lacking the necessary resources to live comfortably and do some things that I haven’t been able to do the past few years.  Travel as I wish, family vacations, treating myself to a gift that’s slightly extravagant.  But I am reminded of the resources that I have within me, to write and encourage others.  This month I finally finished my first work, my anthology of poetry, and I finally have a work that I am proud of.  And in reading it, I truly realized how far I’ve come.  I also realized that people are simply who they are.  Most don’t mean to hurt you, offend you, beat you down, but they do.  Some people love to hate you, others hate to love you, and some love you unconditionally, without limitation or stipulation.

                I am finally coming into myself, having a better understanding of what my purpose is, and knowing the difference between my purpose and my passion, and it feels great.  During our precious journey through life we encounter many obstacles and road blocks, but we still muster this courage to do incredible things.  We somehow come to this place where we beat insurmountable odds with grace, dignity and faith, and during the days and times that I feel defeated, I think back to my ancestors, my grandmothers.  How they were able to do so much with so little.

                During this month I was reminded again of my hometown and the senseless inner city shootings and killings of innocent people.  Two individuals that I have known personally were shot, one has survived, and the other is a young woman, not even 25 years old and leaves two children behind.  Again, I am reminded of the preciousness of life, a day, my daughter’s smiles, touch and laughter and I am reminded that my life isn’t so bad at all. 

There are some men who are not men at all.  Some men who think that they are men because they have fathered children, some men who are not raising their children, who are not spending quality time with their children who make all types of excuses to not be men and fully involved, especially if they are outside of the home.  There are women who are settling for anything, not living by a standard for their lives and the lives of their children, not protecting themselves against allowing men they hardy know into their homes, giving of their bodies, finding themselves deceived, allowing themselves to be deceived just for the sake of having some man.  While I’m here, I will do, breathe, and love, through lack, hurt and pain, I will embrace the preciousness of my life and continue to set a standard for my children and knowing that I am flawed, but still precious.  We make time for the things that we want to make time for.  So today, I ask you to make time for a friend, a family member, your children and recognize the preciousness all around you.

Peace and blessings,
Shamina

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise. Angelou, Maya  http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/, Web. 28 Feb 2012.