Tag: letting go

Lesson Learned 

Published on by Tosha Michelle47 Comments


Hello wonderful WP peeps and Chris. 😛 Last post until Friday when we’ll return to poetry. I graduate from grad school in little over a week.  I’m so excited to be done. I have a research job lined up and look forward to applying what I’ve learned. It’s been an adventure but an arduous one

Since school is slowing down, I’ve had more time to be on WP. One thing I’ve noticed, a lot of people are struggling with various things. It’s kind of refreshing to see people being honest about their pain. You know so many times, people just want us to be blown away with how amazing their lives are (or appear to be) that it can be intimidating. You know what I mean, from so called Instagram models, to Hallmark moments, to couple practically making out for the camera. Umm, could you not?  Ha!

I know for myself, I’ve had a rough couple of years. Some of my unhappiness was self inflicted, while the rest revolved around circumstances out of my control. I was in a negative place for a good while. I’m finally finding my way out of it. Note, being a Bitter Betty isn’t my usual MO. I’m known for being emotional, but in the past, I’ve always tried to put a positive spin on things.  It’s super hard to be positive though when you keep tripping over fallen branches that surround you in all different directions, not to mention, stumbling over your own insecurities. I guess the solution is to remove the branches and get some self worth. 

In the past, I had this annoying habit of making milk chocolate out of vinegar. My mom used to say, I was too trusting. She was right, I’d always been the type of person to see the good in everyone. These days  I’m more realistic, but there’s still the tendency to trust too quickly. However, there’s a healthy dose of skepticism attached now too.

Anyway, wow, I use that word a lot. I’m trying to get back to being my perky, quirky self, but tempering that optimism with realistic expectations and hard earned truths. I’m realizing that sometimes things fall apart so better things can come together. Every experience in our life is leading us to where we’re suppose to be. I guess the key is not to fight it, but just accept that change is the one thing we can always count on. Also, don’t look for validation and happiness in other people. Find it within yourself. 

Don’t chase people who don’t want to be caught either. You’ll just wear yourself out. You’ll be so much happier if you reserve your affection, time, and love for those who would willingly run towards you with open arms. Choose people who choose you!  Forgive and forget those who don’t. It’s not about the chase, but about  the the choice. The choice belongs to you. Choose to be happy. Choose to love yourself.  Choose to be liberated from doubt and fear.

Sometimes we just have to exhale and let go of negativity.  Sometimes we have to acknowledge that some things aren’t meant for us. Sometimes we have to be broken to finally break free.

Cue music. 

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Erasable Scent of Yesterday

Published on by Tosha Michelle30 Comments

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She finally realized it
wasn’t him she missed
but her old ideas of him.
Molded by the absent
years. The feelings lost,
and reshaped in her head,
so many times, that they
became something that
didn’t exist. Emotions.
so foreign they felt
familiar.

Standing on reality’s
shore, her back turn
to the mountains.
No longer between
the future and the past.
The desire to move
ahead, stronger than
the desire to recreate

Freedom replaces fright.
That which is gone, is
now gone completely.
The sun swelled, and
disappears.
She slips away on
the stars, leaving
confetti in her wake,
and the erasable
scent of yesterday.

-Tosha Michelle

Little Boy Blue and Mary Quite Contrary

Published on by Tosha Michelle58 Comments

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Dear Past,

It’s been awhile. I come waving a
flag of peace and unarmed.
My arsenal is depleted.
I have no time for hate or malice
laced air.
I imagine like me
you want to live in peace without
the threat of guns and
claws. To awaken to the sound
of serenity, not bombs going off
in the distance.

I hope hearing from me doesn’t cause you pain.
Frankly, I miss you. Your theatrical ways,
always leaning toward a Shakespearean tragedy.
No time for much ado about nothing.
Although, everything had to be as you like it.
How you were
a master at parlor games and word play.
Your eyes a depletion
of fallen leaves and green tea.
Hair as dark as a grackle.
Arch so charming, fencing with
unseen stars. Little boy blue,
and Mary. Mary, oh, so contrary.
How our garden did grow.
Shells that pelted the ground,
causing wreckage and carnage.
It wasn’t all welts and hell.
There were days when light swelled
and sliver bells grew.

But i digress, as I climb a slide of memories,
backwards with slippery hands.
My legs lose traction,
my lungs clog with dust.

I end up on the ground negotiating
with my untapped toe.
Trying to reclaim the beat with
half recounted facts
and nostalgia’s false sense of rhythm.
Holding a few cards in the hand you deftly dealt me.
Beside me lies a map, marred
by revisions.
that reads let it go. Let it go.

I stand up, and realizes there’s a
tear in my heart, that I
mistook for my sleeve. I walk through the open gate,
ignoring the stained alleyways,
cobble stone,
and street lights shaped like a question marks.
The scent of orchids lingers in
the tired air.
My soul fighting off bees and
the counter winds.
You, dear past, will always sting.

-Tosha Michelle

Not Quite Love in an Elevator

Published on by Tosha Michelle34 Comments

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Some people keep in
touch via the phone,
the internet, weekly
lunch dates.

You keep in touch by
pissing me the hell off.
Lightening up our
elevator display
of toxicity until
we’re stuck between
floors.

Listen, do you hear that?
that’s my head lacerating
on the wall.

My sense of peace
fractured.
Go ahead pick the bone.
I’m done battling
scratched glass.
Drag me through it.

It’s time to rinse
off the anger,
and nail all 1483 of my
grievances to your
sanctimonious door.

Martin Luther and me
the grand reformers
He sowed in grace.
I’m more prone to
mace.

Maybe, I’ll just try to
lose you in a place
I’ll never find again.
Unraveling your
foothold or finding
mine, up your………

I’ll save the hair pulling
spear throwing, and
obscene gestures of
distain for terrorists
and guys named Tad.

I’ll just vent my anger
in a silly poem
Snide as my temper,
but light as numbers
with no equations,
letters missing
sentences, and a
poet whistling
satirically at madness.

-Tosha Michelle

Of Bees, Veins, and Rage

Published on by Tosha Michelle34 Comments

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In the aftermath, when
anger grows.
The quivering sets in
like
hundreds of bees let
loose inside
your veins, the mind
screaming
expletives. You shake,
it starts in
the head and works
it’s way down,
like a toxic virus, it
invades the
lungs. It takes all the
resolve you
have to hold back
bitter words
from lips held taunt
Your jaw
like a vise. Images
best left
to the imagination
all in red.
You know if the quiver
takes you,
rage wins so instead
you write
You write away the sting,
the cold,
until the fever is gone
Words and
bees, rustling with pollen,
fall like
evening from your pen.

-Tosha Michelle

Bare

Published on by Tosha Michelle52 Comments

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For you, I slip off my
insecurities and step
out of my nerves.

I remove my doubts and
set them on the nightstand.

I unhook my inhibitions.
Spread my desire out
upon the bed.

You dissolve in me
like a pill, a remedy
in water. Spilling your
lightening into me.
in an explosion
that removes the
numbness in me.
The spear in my
heart- dislodged.

Consumption.
Transformation

Finally adding a comma
to my life, I pause.

My soul silhouette
comes out from
behind the shade
My spirit untangles

For you, I am finally bare.

-Tosha Michelle

And on a totally unrelated song note.

Random Wisdom

Published on by Tosha Michelle10 Comments

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“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

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Blown Away

Published on by Tosha Michelle1 Comment

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Today you called me
to tell me the mistake
wasn’t what we had,
but what you tossed
away.

The winds here are
strong. The storm
rages heavy with
grief and regret.
All the windows
in the house
shatter.

My blood is cold.
My heart tied to
a madwoman’s
fears, while the
heart gains
strength from
the head to
to bolt the
reminding
door. My
fingertips
scarred, I
hang up
the phone.

The love we had
buried under stone
All the cracks and
corners filled.

You introduced me
to the death of love
and now it is your
disaster to owe.

-Tosha Michelle

Papa

Published on by Tosha Michelle13 Comments

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At eight years old.
I hold my Granny’s hand
The one that use to hold
my Papa’s hand
The one she
held for 32 years
The one she won’t
hold again.
I wonder how much
different mine must feel

We stand in a darkened room
Sharp with the taste
of ash and loss,
full of family and flowers
Tissues to cheek,
eyes red.
Grief pouring out,
like the holy spirit
at a Pentecostal revival

My Papa in his coffin.
dead. I struggle to
understand.
The adults talk of
angels wings, gossamer,
and light
Remarking how peaceful
he looks.
Granny lays her head
on mine and weeps

I place a rose
in Papa’s cold hand,
and kiss his cheek
Hoping he will
answer me
“Papa, I love you.
I’ll take care
of Granny
and hold her hand,
until she sees you again. “

In those few fragment moments
where consciousness
and grief collide.
I understand loss’ lexicon
That is comes off
like synthetic fabric
fused to a body
in a fire
taking skin with it

-Tosha Michelle

Letting Go

Published on by Tosha Michelle1 Comment

Letting Go

Autumn leaves falling off tall stately trees.
Dancing embers in transition, falling
Creating dust like gold full of somber wonders.
The tree has learned the art of letting go.
It is not afraid to stand alone, its branches bare.
It knows and accepts life’s rhythm;
Birds leaving their nest,
Flying away into abstract blue,
Singing their haunting freedom song, like
Psalms of divine inspiration,
They too know the art of letting go.
The tide effortlessly rolling out to sea,
As it caresses the ocean one last time, with its
Crashing waves kissing the sand
Leaving only its foam and
A majestic roar in their wake, as
Nature takes her course,
Mother Earth teaches us the art of letting go.

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