Yesterday I Cried

Yesterday, I cried.
I came home, went straight to my room, 
sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.
I cried until my nose was running all over the silk blouse I got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad
that I could hardly see the pile of soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.
I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.

Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy,
or too tired, or too mad to cry.
I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored, disrespected,
and disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me in the ways others
did to me the same things I had already done to myself.
I cried for all the things I had given, only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished, only to give them away,
to people in circumstances, which left me feeling empty,
and battered and plain old used.
I cried because there really does come a time when
the only thing left for you to do is cry.

Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because little boys get left by their daddies;
and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;
and daddies don’t know what to do, so they leave;
and mommies get left, so they get mad.
I cried because I had a little boy,
and because I was a little girl,
and because I was a mommy who didn’t know what to do,
and because I wanted my daddy to be there so badly until I ached.

Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because I hurt. I cried because I was hurt.
I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there, the hurt wakes you up.
I cried because it was too late.
I cried because it was time.
I cried because my soul knew that I didn’t know
that my soul knew everything that I needed to know.
I cried a soulful cry yesterday, and it felt so good.
It felt so very, very bad.
In the midst of my crying,
I felt my freedom coming,

Yesterday, I cried
with an agenda.

By Iyanla Vanzant

We all have our cloudy days where we cry our eyeballs out and feel as though the weight on the world is on our shoulders. We feel as if we are all alone,and no one else can help ease the pain. We cry because we don’t know what else to do about our situations. But what I like the most about this poem is the way that it ends. She certainly cried but she cried her last tears. She cried away her problems, as if she was burying her old self. She cried but knew that change was coming. The title of the poem is “Yesterday I cried” because it’s all in the past now…


I Will Wait for You

So it seemed that it was cool for everyone to be in a relationship but me. So I took matters into my own hands and ended up with him.Him who displayed the characteristics of a liar and a cheater an abuser and a thief. So why was I surprised when he broke into my heart?

A friend of mine posted this poem, and I absolutely had to share it. Many times we get tired of waiting for the right person to come along, and end up with the next guy that shows up even when we know that this person is not meant for us. Yet we do it, simply because we get tired of being alone, we just want to be held, and loved. Yet we forget that the plans that God has for us is better than the ones we create for ourselves…even if it entails being single. Wait on him!

With No Immediate Cause

every 3 minutes a woman is beaten

every five minutes a woman is raped/ every ten minutes a lil girl is molested

yet I rode the subway today

I sat next to an old man who may have beaten his old wife 3 minutes ago or 3 days

30 years ago he might have sodomized his daughter but I sat there

cuz the young men on the train might beat some young women later in the day or tomorrow

I might not shut my door fast enuf/ push hard enuf

every 3 minutes it happens

some woman’s innocence rushes to her cheeks/ pours from her mouth

like the betsy wetsy dolls have been torn apart/ their mouths menses red & slip

every 3 minutes a shoulder is jammed through plaster and the oven door/ chairs push thru the rib cage/ hot water or boiling sperm decorate her body

I rode the subway today & bought a paper from a man who might have held his old lady onto a hot pressing iron/ I don’t know maybe he catches lil girls in the park & rips open their behinds with steel rods

I can’t decide what he might have done I only know every 3 minutes every 5 minutes and every 10 minutes

so I bought the paper looking for the announcement, the discovery of the dismembered woman’s body/ the victims have not all been identified/ today they are naked and dead/ refuse to testify

One girl out of 10’s not coherent/ I took the coffee & spit it up/ I found an announcement/ not the woman’s bloated body in the river floating/ not the child bleeding in the 59th street corridor/ not the baby broken on the floor/

” There is some concern that alleged battered women might start to murder their husbands & lovers with no immediate cause

I spit up and vomit I am screaming we all have immediate cause

every 3 minutes

every 5 minutes

every 10 minutes

every day

women’s bodies are found in alleys & bedrooms/ at the top of the stairs before I ride the subway/ buy a paper/ drink coffee/ I must know/

Have you hurt a woman today

Did you beat a woman today

Throw a child across a room

Are little girl’s panties in your pocket

Did you hurt a woman today

I have to ask these obscene questions the authorities require me to establish immediate cause.

By Ntozake Shange

Men By Maya Angelou

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pause,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.



A Thankful Heart

Take nothing for granted, for whenever you do, the joy of enjoying is lessened for you.

For we rob our own lives much more than we know

When we fail to respond or in any way show

Our thanks for the blessings that daily are ours.

The warmth of the sun, the fragrance of flowers, the beauty of twilight,

The freshness of dawn, the coolness of dew on a green velvet lawn,

The kind little deeds so thoughtfully done,

The favors of friends and the love that someone unselfishly gives us in a myriad of ways,

Expecting no payment, no words of praise.

Great is our loss when we no longer find a thankful response to things of this kind.

For the joy of enjoying and the fullness of living

Are found in the heart that is filled with thanksgving.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

Stepping Stones To God

An aching heart is but a stepping stone

To greater joy than you’ve ever known,

For things that cause the heart to ache

Until you think that it must break

Become the strength by which we climb

To higher heights that are sublime

And feel the radiance of God’s smiles

When we have soared above life’s trials.

So when you’re overwhelmed with fears

and all your hopes are drenched in tears,

Think not that your life has been unfair

And given you too much to bear,

For God has chosen you because,

With all your weaknesses and flaws,

He feels that you are worthy of

The greatness of His wondrous love.

by HSR


Life’s Crossroads

Sometimes we come to life’s crossroads

and view what we think is the end,

But God has a much wider vision,

and He knows it’s only a bend.

The road will go on and get smoother,

and after we’ve stopped for a rest,

The path that lies hidden beyond us

is often the part that is best.

So rest and relax and grow stronger

let go and let God share your load,

and have faith in a brighter tomorrow;

you’ve just come to a bend in the road.

Letter from God to a Woman

When I created the heavens and the earth, I spoke them into being.

When I created man, I formed him and breathed life into his nostrils.

But you, woman, I fashioned after I breathed the breath of life into man
because your nostrils are too delicate.

I allowed a deep sleep to come over him so I could patiently
and perfectly fashion you.

Man was put to sleep so that he could not interfere with the creativity.

From one bone, I fashioned you. I chose the bone that protects man’s life.

I chose the rib, which protects his heart and lungs and supports him,
as you are meant to do.

Around this one bone, I shaped you…….I modeled you.

I created you perfectly and beautifully.

Your characteristics are as the rib, strong, yet delicate and fragile.

You provide protection for the most delicate organ in man, his heart.

His heart is the center of his being; his lungs hold the breath of life.

The ribcage will allow itself to be broken before it will allow damage to the heart.

Support man as the rib cage supports the body.

You were not taken from his feet, to be under him,
nor were you taken from his head, to be above him.

You were taken from his side, to stand beside him and be held close to his side.

You are my perfect angel…..You are my beautiful little girl.

You have grown to be a splendid woman of excellence,
and my eyes fill when I see the virtues in your heart.

Your eyes……don’t change them.

Your lips, how lovely when they part in prayer.

Your nose, so perfect in form.

Your hands so gentle to touch. I’ve caressed your face in your deepest sleep.

I’ve held your heart close to mine.

Of all that lives and breathes, you are most like me.

Adam walked with me in the cool of the day, yet he was lonely.

He could not see me or touch me. He could only feel me.

So everything I wanted Adam to share and experience with me, I fashioned in you;
my holiness, my strength, my purity, my love, my protection and support.

You are special because you are an extension of me.

Man represents my image, woman my emotions.

Together, you represent the totality of God.

So man……treat woman well. Love her, respect her, for she is fragile.

In hurting her, you hurt me. What you do to her, you do to me.

In crushing her, you only damage your own heart, the heart of your Father,
and the heart of her Father.

Woman, support man. In humility, show him the power of emotion I have given you.

In gentle quietness, show your strength.

In love, show him that you are the rib that protects his inner self.

Phenomenal Woman

by Maya Angelou


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing of my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
The palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenal woman,
I am PhenomenalThat’s me.