Feb 11 -

basseyworld: I have a series of poems about famous women who have “broken” in the public eye. The first poem was for Britney Spears, then Phyllis Hyman and the last was for Lauryn Hill. The third poem, was more of a triumphant trumpet for Whitney Houston, woman who came back from broken. I remember being in tears watching her on Good Morning America. She didn’t sound the same. She didn’t look the same but she was alive and I found so much strength in that.  RIP Whitney. Your voice was a praise song.   +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ WIP: Not Built To Break (A Praise Song For Whitney Houston) While watching Oprah interview her, all I could think was, “Wow. We should all be counted out and left for dead… then rise and reclaim what’s lost.” No we don’t look the same or sound the same or act the same but how could we possibly? With adversity comes change. What matters is the fact that the you continue to breathe and live and move and stand and crawl… whatever. This is a work in progress. I wrote it in like 15 minutes while watching the DVR’d second interview today. Will clean it up as time goes on… or not. What a powerful reminder to keep going. Love someone and mean it, B. They said it was over Gave you permission to curl into yourself and drift away they mourned your legacy your life your voice they turned you into dust for years you were whispered about counted out the butt of jokes and prayer circles alike tell them, whitney tell them you were not built to break tell them that they make martyrs of people too soon throw still sweet scented bouquet onto funeral pyre lament what they could have been cry for the broken bones caused by leaping off of pedestals the wings caked in mud and self loathing weakened but undefeated tell them that you are still here show them that you would gladly trade your voice for your life you don’t need the pity the aching disappointment that the voice is no longer there remind them that you are still here mourn what you were praise where you are so what if your voice is no longer this delicate crystal shelled trinket neither is your life own your rough edged growl own the way your notes bounce in smaller range octaves own the way you stand like the worst is behind you sing like you were promised a thousand more tomorrows this is your testimony to strength that is what your song is now teach them about perseverance teach them about resilience wrap a song around hearts that wish to die praise the thing that still beats and bleeds and bruises and teach them about pressing on teach them about dragging yourself out of bed about lifting yourself from the fog and smoke about leaving the things that kill your spirit about how it’s never too late to start loving the best and worst about you tell them it’s never too late to heal and press forward tell them, Whitney tell them you weren’t built to break You have been through hell back own the scars own the hoarse and cracked lament nothing tell them that any sound from this body is a joyful noise it is a living noise it is a healing noise tell them, Whitney then tell them again and again and again tell them so they know that you will that you did that you live that you are here and with us tell them so they know that the end is never the end that the truth is that no matter how many times we fall the body still has the strength for one more stand for one more attempt at morning (via amibluedotcom)