When I was a child, I looked into my father’s eyes and saw how love there abides.
I found that love is a mother between her child, teaching
unselfish caring for one more than self-
sustaining endurance through disobedience at times
trying to fit into a mold, not meant for a child of heritage foretold
Love is endless nights praying just a little while longer
that your child will find peace and refuge more abundantly
in the word of God receiving the gift of what love is.
love evolved into different tones of,
whispering voices shouting, Love is unconditional-
ly excepting all that you do
as long as what you do pleases me never seeing it’s destroying you.
Love is seeing me bare no clothes on-
ly nakedness is signs of,
every imagination cast down upon you, feeding lust dispelled as something
else to promote the immoral deed, of looking at me with eyes that say No,
while my mouth says Yes, to you Love is
living in constant fear of not being enough, desiring to be more than this
Wretched life has dealt, you
Love is being lead with cruel intentions, into a devastating situation
that will make your minds blown-
away from prying eyes, wrath turned his palm to hit you repeatedly into submission to stand before a woman and man and say to one another I rather be loved by my own
than withstand this type of systematic joining, I run
into the loving embrace of a form of meditation laced with side effects of relaxation
to release my senses to liquid dilutions to my spirits of another desert-
ion of myself remembering a formally known prayer to find peace and refuge more abundantly.
In the mist all this I found I didn’t know what love is supposed to be,
Fulfilled like a promise to Abraham, a son, to father many nations as the stars capture the sky-
Scraping back any glory that he could proclaim, his body too old to conceive,
is the story, I saw on the pages of a book,
Shelved for many years, it’s cover never breaking the seal to show the words meant to heal,
A nation in John 3:16 love is life given for indiscretions; not committed
To the idea that love is 1st Corinthian 13 that is endless, flawless, selfless and
is not easily angered or sensitive to the tongues of man foolishly manifesting speeches of lies
beneath the surface of my anguish of knowing how could I return, like the prodigal son
not knowing if I would be forgiven of my transgressions of loving my flesh,
I feel that prick of conviction in the sermon through the teaching of the words
That holds me accountable for every deed, this truth I heard
Causing me to search for what love is!
Love is family
The next day Brenya went to Neveah’s room to see how she was doing but when she got there she saw that Neveah had already left.
“Come on Leiloni,” Brenya yelled to her daughter, “you ready to go to Grandma’s for the barbeque?”
“Yes, I’m ready, but mom where is Auntie?” Leiloni asked peeping into the room.
“I don’t know, I think she left before I got up. Now go load your stuff in the car while I get the rest of this food.”
As Bre pulled into her mother’s driveway Brenya saw there was already a crowd of relatives assembled.
“Mom, why doesn’t Auntie ever come with us to Nana’s house,” Leiloni asked innocently.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask your Auntie.”
“Mom, is daddy coming?”
“I don’t know Loni, now get your buns out of this car with all of your questions, go find cousins.”
Tina came to the car to help get the food. As she went to the kitchen Lynette started with her usual line of questioning.
“Hey Bre where is your sister” she quizzed.
“You know how Neveah is Ma,”
“Yeah, I know, I just wish she’d come around she has to know we love her, can you grab that pan out of the oven,” Lynette asked.
As Brenya passed her youngest sister, she heard Alexis on the phone.
“Joey, you said you was on your way an hour ago…. Don’t talk about my family like that… Okay, just bring me my car!”
Brenya shook her head as she continued back toward the kitchen. Lynette returned to their conversation.
“You hear your sister out there, begging that man, I don’t know whose worse Alex or Nea, “She said shaking her head. “I don’t know where she gets that from, these young girls just lay down and taking anything from these men.”
“I guess it’s something she just has to learn on her own.”
“Yeah,” Lynette said, “a hard head makes a soft behind.”
They walked outside just in time to see the kids starting a dance off they all heard bass booming from down the street, everyone sighed knowing it was Joey and where ever he was so was trouble. As soon as the car was in park Joey bolted out toward Alexis.
“You’ve been calling me all damn day,” he said grabbing her arm.
“Come on man,” Uncle Mike said trying to keep the peace. “All that isn’t necessary.”
PoetikalyAnointed on October 19, 2018:
Writing is very therapeutic. I do the same thing.
Leslie Robertson (author) from Tennessee on October 19, 2018:
PoetikalyAnointed, writing is my therapy sometimes it's personal and other times just an issue that I see going on in the world.
PoetikalyAnointed on October 19, 2018:
Wow, loved that beginning! I keep seeing my own reflection in your Hubs...scary but it's all a part of the healing.
Yeah, I agree with Jai, you have a way with words!
Your story is unfolding nicely. No family's perfect and dysfunction will always live somewhere on the block.
Leslie Robertson (author) from Tennessee on October 16, 2018:
I'm glad you enjoyed, stay tune there is more coming!
Jai Hitachiin on October 16, 2018:
"Love is being lead with cruel intentions, into a devastating situation"
it hit right into my heart...
well done !..