She birthed
laughter, through prayer and rhythm.
I can hear heavy moans multiplying;
like evergreens planted by the waters.
Gurgling plops of translucent hope.
No more bleaching cream or formulas’ for cocoa butter tones.
The patches of skin laid by the Almighty
imperfectly red-brown
I am ,
beauty of peace,
this is my healing.
Poet Krissy Mosley© 2014
Blind
Lifeless itches,gazing out loud.
Why God
us,black.
Like black was my disability,
like my limitation.
Arrayed with watering blue beauty
saturated with sulfur and determination.
Open my eyes that I might see.
Open my eyes that I might let some stuff go.
Put money in my cup,
sitting ,
rocking the wall.
Blocked by a sighted limitation
denied smells of musty desperation .
Its was not blindness but a loss of vision.
Not blindness but a loss of direction,
Not blindness but “shiftlessness”
God why us
black,
Faulty lines had me believe
I was blind.
Poet Krissy Mosley
The stillness of water mimics the blue birds crackle.
She wrestled spring on her hips.
Aggressively painting sun-stained orange sometimes fiery-red.
Salivating with power on her tongue.
Blinking ,colliding two thoughts toward the sea of purpose.
Rolling down windows ,breaking into the attic to re-invent a voice of her own.
Poet Krissy Mosley.
Happiness
I am happy because I am breathing…
I am happy because I am a Mother
I am happy because life has offered me many opportunities
to heal my hurts and be strong
I am happy because I wear, the smile of forgiveness.
I am happy to write again.
I am happy to be alive
I am happy to understand freedom
I am happy to release my heaviness in-exchange for God’s Love
Midnight Air,
the orange blackness;
rode upon a white horse.
Laughing tears.
Speaking in unknown tongues.
The wind grew angrily.
Peacefully,
moving brick and gravel.
She gave out colds to the little ones without heart.
She sat on the skin old men.
A dream on fire;
don’t think that my dreams have burned down.
I was not selected.
I’ll try a little harder.
Hoard all disappointment to the left.
Retrieve my soul
Teach my Soul to Dream
Poet Krissy Mosley
Today am finishing up an employment process for which I will work nightly and still be at home with my three kids.I am thankful to be employed after four years of being a stay @home mother. Truly a test of faith and patience. I pray for balance and better management skills
Amen.
Today I am thankful to start a blogging site through Mother Bethel Poetry Ministry.
I know with “God all things are possible”
What has God done for you today?
New ways to give thanks?
I bought the victim’s home,
then began cooking abuse on the stove.
I
chopped up pieces of ignorance and defeat;
mixed heavily in a pot and fed it to me.
Full of self-hatred and pride,
it would take more ingredients for me to die.
Brewing in her belly was evil and chide,
topped off and steamed with suicide.
Debating whether or not I could kill the ego
roasting in the oven.
Apologies spewed onto the floor ;
My shadow selves are fully grown now,
to greet me.
Fear, low self-esteem, self doubt
seated at the table, awaiting a feast.
The beast, I had prepared.
My shadows of the past showed up as dinner guests.
dark-skinned, negro; poor class, short, single -parent home,
religious mother praying, bike riding in the rain.
This is my past, haunting and scolding,
my inner enemy.
me
Poet Krissy Mosley
Judah’s Birth
Men say, giving birth is a beautiful thing…
I agreed silently until my turn came.
Laying flat on a table.
exposed, vulnerable,
anticipating the cry of a newborn.
Nightfall – raining, pouring, down on the windows.
my body traveling through multiple changes
10 centimeters deep Dilating…
Sounds of medical staff in the distance.
I could hear doctors say to get her prep right away.
What was wrong?
Having my baby too soon.
Underdeveloped lungs, bad prenatal care, transferred from here to there.
Throwing up my bowels.
Eight months three weeks
Bleeding internally.
“Count to ten”, said the doctor,
placing the oxygen mask over my face.
Reflecting,
making peace with the soul maker.
I thought I was eating right; working so hard to keep my status of medical care and salary.
Going to school did I mention working.
The daily stress of being a wife, friend, keeping up w/ the status of my foes.
Pursuing my dreams.
listening to crowds, testify ,suck it up girl, don’t quit,
Legs and arms were swollen from being on my feet, consuming too much salt.
A prizefighter black eyes, white lips
I gave birth on the emergency table,
cutting my baby, out of me…
The nurse leaned, she said, “its all your fault you know”.
Day three up on my side.
Wheeled around to NICU, observing my daughter, fight for her life.
Three pounds 13 ounces tubes everywhere.
Staring at her frail body, watching her bones breathe under the hot light.
Crying and praying asking for forgiveness.
Telling God I didn’t know.
Pumping milk for a baby who couldn’t suck for several days.
I named her Judah.
Poet Krissy Mosley
Krissy Mosley Ministries 