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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?
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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
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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
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A Motherhood’s Terrorism
completely annihilated from all children,
screaming with disappointment, and fear.
Threats from men, shocked many wombs,
religious thoughts of vengeance and justice.
Smashed together like bread and cheese.
The young woman strapped her back loaded homemade bombs.
The preacher she became overnight.
Freeing the minds of women alike dancing and praying to Allah
Her resistance grew from servant-hood;
lacking the qualities of her ancestors.
She boldly stood overlooking her future of all woman-kind.
The blood cycle,
the battle of nurturer flipped onto its’ head,
going to work instead!
Becoming Susie homemaker !
A cake baker ,
husband’s personal crap taker!
She quietly said, I quit.
Poet Krissy Mosley
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She stopped to tie her shoe while cleaning up the broken home.
Bent up with rage and exhaustion.
The young mother still in her nightgown.
Her three children all fast asleep
thoughts gathered like a “New England storm”.
There was no turning back .
Silent with tears streaming the end was near ,
all she had to do was jump.
Throw yourself into your purpose,
leap into your destiny!
Let go of all the dead passion.
Drive hard
swim underwater ,
run fast,
lift up your saggy breast.
Put on your best fashion.
Move out of the dark
pack up all the hatred,
its time for peace!!!
Poet Krissy Mosley
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Dear failure, of the past and future,
I thank you now.
There would be no success without you.
The darkness has challenged the essence of my soul &
Buds once again the motive of my creativity .~Poet Krissy Mosley
Krissy Mosley Ministries 