words and randomness.

I’m still grieving. Still holding the anger… fighting through various emotions and the levels they tend to attract. Still struggling with a voice and a craft I inhale and give back effortlessly…yet some days… these last one thousand ninety two days have been much more than writers block…save this blog…my words would be stuffed in the garbage bags of belongings I’ve learned to toss into trash bins. Moving from place to place one home after the next searching seeking…running… fast and in a hurry…it seems I’m at stage five of my grief. Accepting. My life and my words. My purpose… without. You wanna know my lessons I’ve learned with grieving mourning crying wailing? What going back and forth on buses with my life packed in bags is like? Learning to live without. Having had own house car education day to day top of my mountain… only to tumble down… slowly… and watching my belongings… teapot collection, books, pictures, poems…get discarded…left in the trash…making tough decisions to throw away…cause I just can’t carry… this load. Living without people…losing my godsister…the left hand to my right… my aunt… her smile…my son…his life…being sudden/short yet powerful/abundant losing friendships…stumbling through words losing mobility losing myself… I am still grieving and balancing through grace and mercy from my faith. Enduring and feeling. Feel Grief! I have learned and am still to smile through any pain…losing…I’ve come to find…is just as important as gaining…it holds equal if not more weight. There are stages and levels to love life laughing…there is an etiquette for everything… from baking a cake to listening to music to sex to smoking to life…there are disciplines and stages that must adhere to our selves…without judgement we must correct what’s wrong. Use our ugly as testaments…just like Job there’s gonna be a Kisha…a Thalia…an Ann…Loretta…so I’m finding out…”I’d better let this all flow like a cold…” let it run its course…drain…
Funny cause I’ve grown and matured so during this period…I can remember when grief first collapsed my full body…the phone calls made to Essence and Edge…the noises that I heard…the cries I didn’t… the eyes I didn’t see…and I knew I was in deep shit…not like woe is me…no like God has a divine purpose and no games are being played. I’m serious. My grief and its processes… I give thanks and praise for. The events within it…the randomness of finding my new normal…I’m looking at age 35 in less than five months…so its time… Ecclesiastes says there is a timing for everything. I believe that. I believe. Period.
The morning always appear with Joy.
So though I still grieve I allow God to love me…I in turn love God…everything trickles beautiful from that.
and this is just a random thought.


About monalisasrandomthoughts

I craft people poems. I laugh out-loud. I love all things. Everything is about order. My movements are chess. Everything to me calculates. I just look like this.
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One Response to words and randomness.

  1. Frisky says:

    Yes, I witnessed. Love ya Kisha!!!!!

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