The pages of her diary are filled with
memorable recollections of ecstasy and agony.
In the most intimate writing of her secrecy,
she documents the otherworldly pleasure
of absolutely irresistible ecstasy found in agony.
Intimate Entries
I Remember
For men at sea.
For Laura, USN (HM).
For Erik, USN (HM).
For Black Soldiers who valiantly fought, and endured discrimination and the scourge of racism upon their return home.
A Letter To Myself
Victor,
You’ve survived death. You survived the treachery of so called family. You will rise up on the wings of the archangels and see your mother’s eyes again. You will not be deterred from, or neglected happiness for any reason, for anything, or for anyone. On the ship of life you are your own captain; the seas will not always be like glass or welcoming. You will face adversity; you will face hostility; You will be required to navigate treacherous waters and come out alive. No one is responsible for you, but you. No one will throw you a lifeline if you are drowning—you must adapt and swim. It is okay to forgive the abandonment of your father, but never be like him. Cowardice is not tolerated. It is courage that runs in your blood. Your mother looks down on you and kisses her son.
Be mindful that you are now a leader, and must lead in strength and righteous judgement. You are stronger than ever before and you will not falter. The events that happened in your childhood will not haunt you; intrusive thoughts will not bother you. People of the world are easily lead astray, so when they walk the broad road, you walk the other way. In matters of love: love with reckless abandon, giving all of yourself at the risk of being hurt or betrayed. A woman among women will see your true emotions and love you more for showing your vulnerability; it will not be considered a weakness.
Furthermore, be selective in your choosing, and diligent in your approach. Be a man among men and stand on your rectitude, even when it is not popular and the masses are against you. Do not let any particular emotion control you. You are a man of deep love and a critical thinker. You carry the banner for your aunt Julia, your mother Viveca, and your grandmother, Alvara. Everyday is a new day; be thankful for what you have and be considerate and respectful of others. Always render respect first, until the person proves themselves to be underserving of respect. Never give in. Never relent. If the world turns its back on you, always know there is at least one that will always love you, and she lives in you until you see her again.
Shirley Horn – Here’s To Life
Shirley Horn – Here’s To Life
Released: 1992
2:25 A.M.
The therapy that moves me.
Zhane – La La La
Love Envy
My own thoughts slay me.
The torment of the lonely
Are long past memories.
On the other side of the mirror I drown,
But they can’t see me.
The black pitch consumes
Everything in totality.
When love left me
The fallacy of normality
Was shattered utterly;
A couple walk by in the rain
And kiss passionately …
I stare keenly;
Suddenly, I am overcome with envy.
Afternoon Relief
I’m relying on Coltrane to get me through the day. A wonderful rest of the day to you all.
John Coltrane – Giant Steps
Nothingness
Nothingness.
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4, KJV)
The Final Scene
Cold winds pierce through her black veil. She stands there alone; all the other faces of sorrow have departed. She stands there and looks down upon the remnants of him, as the cold and howling winds blow against her. She has not cried. She has not shown any emotion. Her face is solemn. The winds continue to howl as her black dress and veil are pressed against her from one side from the violence of the winds. The grey skies open and cold rain is released. Still, she stands there completely still. Her eyes are fixated on him as she continues to stare. She does not morn for him, for he was the cause of her pain and suffering. She had endured the torture for over thirty years. The beatings and the abuse; the endless suffering; the wailing. All he has left her is torturous memories and a dark void. She doesn’t shed tears because his death is her life. She is numb from the many years she has endured. The sorrow in her eyes is for herself, because of all the wasted years of unhappiness and heartache. The tears of her soul are for the stillborn child she conceived in agony; the wounds and scars of her abuse visible for all to see, as she cried out in pain. He had blamed her for the loss of the child and had become even more violent and abusive, even as she lied listless in bed for months. He hit her violently time and time again, as she lie there numb and in silent tears. The pain of losing her child was a pain she could not fathom and had never felt before. Tears streamed down her face, as she prayed to the heavens day after day. Now, as he lie in a wooden box, no life in him, she is emotionless. The winds pick up in speed and the howling is louder; it is cold and the rain is coming down in torrents. She is unmoved. She removes her veil and black satin gloves and throws them onto the top of the casket, in an act of finality. She takes a rose and places it next to her heart for the child she had lost. Without looking back, she walks away as she empties herself of his memory.
