Does anyone believe in action language? The language of actions? People say a lot of things and withhold a lot of things called words. But actions speak a language all their own.
That’s what I am looking down the barrel of right now. My Mamas actions that don’t line up with her words. Love. What does she know of love? Passed me off like a rotten hot potato to the next lady that would catch me. And the people who took me in withheld her truth so I could go find out myself. Face to face.
Calling the police on me? Brandishing a knife in front of me? Oh please. Calling my sisters to shew me away? Call me crazy? Yeah. I’ve seen enough to be able to size this situation up.
Yeah. I’ve shared my dreams of what could be? Could be. That’s the phrase. Coulda woulda shoulda. One of my favorites. Guess? Coulda ain’t in my Mamas vocabulary? To treat me like this says a lot about her. Excuses excuses excuse as to why not. When I’ve come straight to her door. She turned me away. Why would I even stay? This is me grieving it all out. Grieves next to see the woman I came from time and time again stiff necked, bowed up, stubbornly defend what? What does she defend? Herself from Love. That’s what, she’s fighting love. calling me hate. Crazy indeed.
Sure? I’ve shown her the other side. Does she want it? Well I guess not cus my phones not ringing? Tell me to apologize? Oh please. Maybe she should apologize to Mama Jean for treating the child she trusted to her like this? Maybe that’s what should could happen? But no. She’s not done a thing but stay the same.
Seems I’ve found the truth at the end of each day after all. While I ride away. She’s crying for Hod I don’t know what? She did nothing but berate the child made from her belly who dared to face the person she’s become who talks smack behind my back and smiles to my face.
I’m gonna quantum jump out of that truth for sure. But she’s Gotten the warning. shot fired. Go y’all to the Lord honey. I’m retired from this job of carrying your shit calling me a mistake, treating me like a rake. Your fake. No love in that cupboard mother Hubbard. Just a bunch of worldly possessions. No soul. No spirit. Seems I came from God through that woman to go to another woman who wanted me no matter where I came from. Hmm?
Now that’s a lesson indeed about ungrateful woman. Don’t tell me I’m not grateful. But. I guess Hod just wanted me to have a good long hard look at where and who I came from to show me where I really am. Wow. What a ride Lord in that precious hand no one can take me from. Thank you. For loving me enough to take me away from that place I began from to here where I am loved no matter what I do or say.
Thank you Lord. Thank you.