"Breathe Deep" MeMoir "Memories of You" FOCUS

 Breathe Deep, Focus your Attention, Tune Into that Inner G. My mind racing, heart beating outer body, experiencing pain. Human pain, I was rebirthed into a six year old young girl, coppered colored, walking down the paved country

back road with tears rolling down my face. I finally captured the attention of a pass by car, thankfully on this busy road. As the car approached and pulled over. My young self keep pushing it, looked and saw it was my Auntie, I knew I was in some trouble. At that point in my life, Trouble was my middle name, I seemed to question everything. Nobody ever questioned what would make a six year old walk down a busy, dangerous road, just to get home. When my Auntie got me to my mother, she was livid. I had no words to explain the hurt I was feeling, or how Big Mama just sat me outside, to sit amongst her friends to talk about me, about her, about how I wasn't even his. I had know clue, but that day I had lost myself, lost my voice before I was even able to use it. On that back porch, in that garage, on those steps, I remember saying fuck these people. I was traumatized. I knew then to be guarded against the people that should have been protecting me. My own flesh and blood, and as the time past, I grew, and so did that six year old trauma. Believe me when I say, had I known what I know now, I would have healed her sooner, me that is. Time grew me up mighty fast after that day. Seven, Eight, Nine, I swear I want all that time back, that innocence back. By this time I had been exposed to Uncle Albert, sneaking in my room, as I slept in the guest room. yeahhh we all have a few of those in the family. Here in the south these molesting spirits run rapid in our communities, in our homes, at our schools, in our church's, shit even walking home from school, or at the bus stop. These streets were never safe for us.

  My mother worked, and went to college, so you know how that is in Urban homes. Single mother, trying to survive, work, heal herself, and take care of a child. I must say a woman of color has a certain strength about her walk. I never seen her struggle, she wasn't on government assistance, Dude sent those checks. By then I had three blood test on the man, and all three showed I was his. All and all He didn't hold no weight in my life, I have no vivid child hood memories of Him.
 Anyhow, with Her, I took some heat, and ass beatings around these times, but who didn't. We made it look normal, yet it wasn't. It added trauma to not just my life, but hers as well. Wombs unhealed hurt others. Nine, Ten, Eleven, I grew accustomed to being abused, verbally, mentally, emotionally scared. I was now mute, locked into my own mind, trying to never forget who I once was. Still holding onto the fact that I knew this was just an human experience. I have been here many, many, many, many lives before. Yet seeing what we have to endure here on earth, actually feeling the feelings of pain, regret, lack of love, self hate, poverty based environments. I must say that I will never forget this mission. I am here to help shift world peace, show others the path of light and love. Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Time waited for no one, especially a young, cutie pie, smart mouth yellow heifer. I jumped off the porch early, well you know they pushed me off the mother fucker. I was raised around The Black Elite, you know who they are. I was raised in the midst of nurses, hustlers, church hoppers, whore mungers, ladies of the night with that Cherry Jubilee lipstick, fishnet stalkings, ole school pimps, number runners, dope slangers, nine to five workers, day or night, business owners, land owners, farmers, cheating husbands, hustling aunties, uncles of war, mama homeboys, molesting ass niggers. You name it, I saw it. So it was no surprise when I started hustling at fourteen, I was still in school of course. I have always been into that book knowledge, I was on punishment most of my youth. Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen those years came like a thief in the night. I see how we can get lost in this world. When all you have been doing is fighting to live, time will pass you by. I was in and out of homes, the streets, left home, came back. Running from all those slave lies that they were trying to beat in to my being. I was dead ass exhausted by Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, I actually stopped giving a fuck. I still knew I had a Mission, but I was beat the fuck up spiritually. I had been in and out of jail a few times, graduated high school with honors, smart church gangsta, been married and divorced, got sponsorship, stayed hustling, started shakey shakey to cover extra expenses. I worked square gigs during the day, and night life for the creepy crawlers. That's when I met Slo Mo, he was a brief love, that changed the course of my twenties. We rocked for a second, I was too square for Slo, so he went and found him a young dumb victim. Before we parted ways, I wanted to understand his decision. I was far from being naïve, or insecure, so I asked, hurt and all, I needed to know. Slo Mo gamed me up, as I have been gamed up all my life. He stated that He was about to get into these streets real tuff, and I was like we already out here. He was like nahh, the way I am going, I can not take you with me. I will not be the one to hurt you, or take you through the extra pain. IF and when you do come out here, your going to come out here alone. I loved him until his time expired. I hustled until I could hustle no more. That part of me that craved love, was dead. That square life, I no longer craved. I was numb to who I was to become, I was numb to who I was, I was drunk as fuck to cover up the lust of what I had to endure. All of My Twenties I spent, fighting for my life, fighting for my freedom, fighting for my name, fighting for my soul, fighting for my spirit, fighting for my sanity,all my life I had to fight. This fight was in the wilderness, walking through the valley of the shadows of death, seeing demons in loved ones, knowing all those lies were really lies, then finding truth. Before my 25th Solar Return, I remember being stoned out of my mind, I never stopped studying, or seeking truth. I was one to straddle the fence. I was supplying the streets, flipping, trafficking, trading my time for currency. I don't know the exact time or date. But this voice inside my head, kept getting louder. It would not let me enjoy my buzz, cloud nine who? God always had a way of getting my attention, even after all those years of me trying to get drunk, stay numb, to forget I was gifted. This gift had me as a youth seeing shit, hearing shit, feeling a lot shit. I didn't understand, not like I do now. Like my gift grew up within me, just imagine being raised a slave, when in reality your Father is of Royalty. Remember I told you I woke up at six years of age in a human copper colored young girl's body, crying, walking. Fast forward back at 24 years of age, Minister Louis Farrakhan caught my attention. Like out of no were. I was like uhhh who is this Minister, he's not normal. The words that he spoke, reminded me of that voice inside my head. That voice that I have heard since I could remember, remembering. I was seeking, I knew God, I knew he still made a way for me. Even though at this point I was living as a peasant. Christianity had me enslaved without my permission, I had to rebel against every thing that I was taught to believe, to be who I knew I was chosen to be. The experience of this life will forevermore be grand, 6000 YEARS FROM TODAY, the world will be different because of what WE DO NOW. What I do now, is tell you the truth. To be continued