Some say that I am a rose in the concrete,
coming through the ground with a tenacity,
That makes people stop and stare at me
but that is not important.
Some say I think too deep,
that I am a rare commodity because most do not see what I see
but that does not worry me.
I make my mother proud
was raised to be unique
and I am.
Some have seen parts of me
that obviously remain discreet
and I do not mean sexually.
I mean the times when my passion becomes hot lava like fire
and I express it with profanity passionately
followed by asking God to forgive me.
I try not to hurt anyone intentionally.
I must speak sometimes
just to let folks know that I can.
Some have hurt me, my vision, my core,
they have taken my good deeds for granted and believe I should give more.
I laugh and cry simultaneously a wise aunt once said, “let God deal with reciprocity
and she was correct”.
Ask those folk when was the last time they saw me
yet they will never forget
Some see me,
high heels, well kept
assume that my belongings
are not legit.
Some say “she has it made” happy and educated,
assume I am a trust fund baby
that I did not earn my stripes,
think I am a youngin and ignorant as the night
yet they do not know me.
I refuse to share my story.
In the bigger scheme of things
what some say
is just not important. Embracing: A Poetic Perspective