In all of my years I have toggled back and forth on whether writing or being an author is ‘my calling’ or just something that I have little talent for doing well.  Could I be inspiring, or boring---offensive or funny?

Then, somewhere between falling in love for the first time and the romanticism of being happy (whatever that is, lol) I found that I had lost my voice.

Somehow along the way I became extremely cynical and bitter about religion, my Christian up-bringing, politics and race; basically: everything.

So in an effort to recapture that voice and find my passion I will post a very special piece.  It was inspired by Zora Neale Hurston, “Their Eyes Were Watching God”.   It’s mostly poetic, but if you can decipher the meaning you will find that it is an abstract or rather an introduction that is to precede one of the chapter’s in my novel wherein, I am describing young girls watching young boys in the summertime.  This is basically how I wanted to describe the juxtaposition of being young with reality of being an African American in a racial society.

Blue skinned and black blooded. Ugly in all their splendor,[and] beautiful.  The Son had licked their bodies dark while us gazed upon them in the summer heat, ignoring their presence.

Oppression had long crawled into our skin and colored us Black. Us unaware of white were made ignorant and innocent.