one day all dem' bags gon' get in yo' way...

"I say...one day all dem' bags gon' get in yo' way...
so...pack light..." ~Erykah Badu "Bag Lady"

My life had become a series of mementos scattered amongst a closet shelf like autumns dying leaves. Like a museum full of broken artifacts, pieces of people, places and things were waiting to be put back together again. Scribbled notes on crumbling papers full of thoughts, wishes and hopes, stained with coffee, tea and pop awaited me for years in the darkness hoping to find a final resting place.

Oh the pictures...so many pictures, thrown in a pile and tossed aside with a painless shoulder shrug. It was time.

I tackled the darkness, pushing back some of the tears while letting others flow freely...

Chanting..."girrrrrrrrrrrrl don't go...don't do it...don't cry like this...keep it moving........girrrrrrrrrrl...DON'T GO..."

gone...

"There we sat in the dimly lit corner of Giordano's in Chicago's uppity Hyde Park when I pulled out two yellow index cards, cards I had been carrying around for note taking for one of my Political Science courses. I had an idea: we would both write down the reasons why we loved one another, exchange them, then read them aloud..."

I must have held that weeping index card in my hand, (suspended in the air above the garbage bag) for an eternity; in reality, it was probably a minute or less. But in my hearts memory, it was 6 years. Fresh in my mind like air in the Springtime it remained a makeshift token like a stubborn stain on a favorite dress.

I fell asleep on the couch amongst the rubble while reading "Black Pain" by Terrie M. Williams and for the first time in a long while...I had a dream...



Darkness surrounds the room...I'm awakened by noise, knocking...I look through the window, but, I don't recognize her but I feel as though I should, she appears to be angry...I've done something wrong...I've hurt her...I refuse to open the door, she wants to hurt me. As she pounds on the door and the windows, I realize I need to call the police. I phone them, a man in uniform rushes over just as she is pushing the window off of the wedges...I feel relieved...he walks in and she...she...she rushes in behind him...I panic...why would he do that? Why would he let her in? She has others with her...wait...she's crying...why is she crying...wait...I recognize her. I think she is my friend. "All I wanted to do is get you to come tonight...it would mean so much if you just show up...but you weren't answering my calls...can you make it? I need you there."


I'm here.