Wild Flower

Go ahead on the smooth paved path,
but I see more where the grass beat the concrete and grew through its wicked cracks.
That's all life is, having to grow through the wicked cracks, blooming through your broken.
I see no comfort in the smooth sailing ocean, it won't push me towards my dreams,
There's no way the highway knows what it has seen,
The world is so vast yet every day I find myself staring at a phone screen
because I think if I don't read those tweets it will somehow effect me.
I wish I could break the glass surrounding my body,
this box I call my world that contains everything I'm "supposed" to do.
A successful career to make money for the rent that is due.

What will that do?
Everything has its place but don't tell me where mine is
I can "choose my destiny yet my future has already been planned,
an American story where I end with the perfect man.
There are things you can't possibly know, like
Nine to Five are not my peak hours.

I do not know when I will stop moving, when my heart will stop beating
but I want the soles of my feet to know what lies beneath the concrete
I want my soul to know a million lives outside of me.
Plant me in the soil littered in rocks,
I'll make them my friends and say I wish I was so strong,
but if you ever need anything soft I have a heart you can lie your head on

Momsters In The Dark

For 10 years she was called Mommy
Mommy I want,
Mommy I need,
Mommy please help me see.
This world was so big but her light was my sun
I needed it to grow
She planted seeds in my heart hoping love is all I would ever know
For 10 years she was my gravity, my mommy don't go.

                                     

I turned 11 and though she was still my light in shining armor she became Mom.
Mom take me here,
Mom I really don’t care,
Mom, I can see on my own.
I became too cool for her tight hugs but no matter how I shoved she wouldn’t let go.

 

12 years old and her light flickered
Her mom died and it was the first time I saw her cry
Of course I didn’t understand because I still had my mom’s hand.
She had dimmed but I could still see
the bottles of wine on the nights she didn’t have her mom’s light

 

2 more years and her light went out.
I called her Momster because I was told that’s what lives in the dark.
I tried to become her gravity; I tried to pull her back to me.
I brought flashlights and bibles waiting for her sunrise.

 

I’m 15 when she empties the bottle of pills
The ICU lights are the only thing glowing.
There’s dark charcoal pumping through her and I wonder if that’s the color of her soul.

 

For 2 years she becomes a storm, the only light I see is her tearing down the electricity poles.
Sparks are flying, burning out my only hope.
I’m told the medicine will fix her, but my sun still won’t shine.
My flashlight batteries are done and my Bible no longer has solutions.

 

Momster is upset,
Momster yells,
Momster has left me here alone.

 

I’m almost 18 and the Momster leaves.
December 31^st and the sun sets refusing rise for a new year
All the light was drained out of her and replace with alcohol and pills
She left not realizing I still needed that light to grow.

 

She left this life in the dark,
She left my life in the dark saying
Mommy I want you,
Mommy I need you,
Mommy I can’t see why you had to go.

Fractured Image

I grew up without a fret of the possibility that my beauty, my image, my self-worth was in fact not beautiful, not acceptable, and worthless. I was raised that way. My mirrors showed me a girl, no deformities. I had heard tales of women looking through a fractured mirror. Broken, only to show each imperfection taking over their image. Or maybe these women had a beautiful mirror like mine but over time the words of the people around them layered on to the reflection like dust; creating a dark image that was not good enough... blocking the light from being seen.

Of course, to say that I have never seen imperfections in myself or had days I didn't look like a runway model about to take on the catwalk would be lies. I have flaws that's something we all live with, even the models.  Yet, I was okay with how I appeared. I have never felt the need to cake make-up onto my face, I felt sorry for the ones who do. There are days I try harder and days I just do not care. Usually a wisp of mascara and some eyeliner keep me going.

I have been an Oklahoma City Barons Ice Girl since September of 2012.
Now, most people would say who? what? Barons? Ice girl? So, let me explain. The Barons Ice Girls are an 'interactive" team for Oklahoma Cities professional hockey league. No, we do not dance. Yes, we do wear clothes. Yes, being called a "cheerleader" is probably an accurate description. Yet we are in no way Thunder Girls. We do not sell that image (something I have always loved and admired), we are there to promote in the community and make game experiences fun for our fans. The standard of looks is not as high as many professional sports cheer teams. The big hair, glitz, and glam were never encourage. In fact, it was discouraged that girls cake on make up and go all out to be "sexy." So my curled or straightened hair, eyeliner and mascara-sometimes more, was never an issue. I could have fun, support the team I love, as well as be comfortable.

Yesterday after an event I worked, I received an email from what would be considered my "boss" that my appearance was not acceptable and the I needed to better my self when in uniform. When first reading the e-mail I was confused and had to read it again to make sure I wasn't misinterpreting. My hair was straightened, and I had on my usual mascara. Did I miss something? Had my mirror actually been broken this entire time and I didn't know it? It hit me hard. Though the word ugly was not once uttered in the e-mail it was the only word rolling through my head. Suddenly my reflection was disgusting. It wasn't enough. After consulting two of my teammates and my dad I made the decision to quit. In a heartbroken furious rage I informed him that his words were unacceptable and I would no longer be working for that team. For the rest of the day I was in despair. In a flash I was now the girl in the tales, and a fairy tale it was not. I was the one with a mirror producing a fractured image.

Mind swirling, I wanted him gone. Fired from ever working with another woman again. Especially being in charge of a group of 16 young women who should think they are nothing other than beautiful.  WHAT gives anyone- man or woman- the right to tell another human that they arnt their "best self." The only person who should be correcting my image, and working on my looks is me. I need my approval and that's final. I'm always down to better myself and if that means taking advice from someone then please, advice I will take. Advice is not what I received. That e-mail was rude and not thought through. Words to describe men who degrade women in such a way are so unholy. I wanted to yell every swear word I could think up. Though words from friends and a comforting visit from my boyfriend we're soothing to the soul, I still had a distorted image of myself. At the end of the day what was I left with? Frustration. Hurt. And no job. I had lost.

Waking up this morning I thought "new day, positive attitude" and yes, I even woke up singing I'm a boss ass bitch to encourage myself. No matter how hard I try, all I can focus on is the situation. Leaving school I talked myself into a trip to Target to visit the "beauty" isles. Purchasing branded make-up to doll myself up. I left smoldering. Getting home I layered it on. A mask. I could feel its uncomfortable weight on me. It wasn't me in the mirror. I didn't like my reflection. Transforming into a covergirl was so unglamourous.

The pressure to pursue a certain image is constantly hammered into the heads of women from every angle. Magazines, commercials, famous stars rocking their photo shopped style, and sadly even the people around us. If that is what a girl wants, if make-up and glam is how she finds her beauty then rock on. That is not me. I can define my beauty without it.

Moving forward I'm still upset. I still hope that actions taken do not go unpunished. But mostly I hope that girls, no matter where or what the circumstances, are able to define their beauty on their own terms. That no matter what degrading words are spoken to them they can stand up for themselves, dust off their mirrors and realize that they are beautiful in their imperfections.