Writing and Liberation

He desires to be lavished in gold

His iced out piece and chain is what makes him cold

Ancient history of a king untold

Suffering from borderline personality disorder, he covers his pain and becomes a snorter

Tribal print, bronze chocolate, brown copper skin

Excuse me, black America we're losing our men

Ancient warrior deep within

Killing for everything except for our names, families and 400 years of pain

Loyal to his brothers and village

Bros before hoes the code in the hood,no nigga if I make it you make lets get that overstood

No government ruled civilian

He makes and abides his own laws follows his own rules, his knowledge is his tool,

Put the strap down grab a book I recommend "Hello King"

Pyramid bricks, golden twisted sticks, holy oil, hair locked and coiled

Push bricks, marijuana sticks, cognac on deck, locs hanging down the back of his neck. Myyy Nigga!

What you're making isn't figures! Own the block no really own the block the corner stores and cleaners. Make these mofos made "When they see us"

Such an essence, black blessing, just sexy

Ancient history of kings untold

Lavish him with gold

Give him the tools so he rules his own village.

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© Ife Folami Mensah

The clay sat in my hands without form. It was not until I started to bend and rip it apart, that it started to have structure. So I kept molding, along the way I noticed that it was not exactly going in the right direction, gravitational impact broke it down, I squeezed it until it was back to nothing and began the process over again. Starting with a vision and goal in mind of what the end result would be and how I wanted to mold it. This time beating it flat, twisting it to the point of pain in my hands, removing the indentions of the previous molding. I started to build again a little nervous because this is my second time creating this piece and I want it to be perfect. What my eyes saw was not quite what others saw when looking at my molding. "In the eyes of the beholder" was planted in my head and wouldn't leave. I build even more, even with the thoughts of making it acceptable to the eyes of others and their thoughts. Suddenly, I disliked the piece again, quickly tearing it down and hating it. I took a moment, I took a while before attempting to design this clay again. I slowly picked up this clay and watched how it had been tormented by my own hands the same hands that were molding it to be great. I held it, closing my eyes, remembering all that it endured, remember that this same clay can become beautiful again no matter what it has been through. It was capable of being whatever I desired it to be. The forming started slowly and with purpose to be acceptable to eyes of the beholder. I started to love this time of creating, perfectly modifying the imperfections of the previous molding, I visioned this to be from the very start, a working progress. Building it up and not tearing it down. Accepting the beauty from the beginning until the end, understanding that nothing can be something, trials and errors, determination, believing, powerful, strong, understanding, driven, intelligence, not afraid, fighter and identity. Before I knew it my clay had become the most beautiful, firm like ceramic woman I've ever seen. 

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© Ife Folami Mensah

I woke up to a view of bright green trees, peeking through the balcony window of my upgraded suite. The breeze rubbed against my skin like cotton. The leaves waft as the wind blew, reminding me of a "Thousand Words."  I've used many useless words few that I meant and some I honestly didn't mean. My mind started to wrap around the thousand things that I could take back and redo. I'm a person of no regrets because those are the things that are behind me and cannot be unchanged. I started at number one...I would've understood who I was, I would've loved me more, I would've embraced life as if it was the only one I would get, I would've analyzed the reasons you loved me, I would've never made the choice of covering hurt with makeup, I would've never been scared to try, I would've been a public speaker, I would've never thought self inflicted pain was the answer. I would've let you love me, I would've never been so distraught from your actions, I would've forgave, I would've never expected so much from people. I would've talked about the things that caused me pain, I would've understood you were like me and didn't have the answers. I would've held you closer to me when you were lost, I would've understood the journey of my life, I would've understood that answers were in me the whole time, I would've never walked away, i would've never let you walk away. I would've just been a kid when I was supposed to, I would've understood my mom's pain, I would've told my grandparents that I thank them. I would've said goodbye to him, I would've thought about my children before they were born… I would've done many things different.

Now for number two,. I would've never held in my cries, I would've thought more about me.  I would've just titled this story Hidden Regrets with weight of a thousand words.  

    

© Ife Folami Mensah