One Day I’ll Introduce Myself to my Mom

I will say “Hello” to her. I will tell her my name. The name of the real idea of me. I will not lie.

I want her to one day know who her daughter is and how she came to be. She has a right to know. She is my Mother.

The person that she knows according to her isn’t really me. Some of it is, but not all. A long time ago I created an image of myself on the right side of my brain.

I loved my identity. I loved what I saw. I told my image that I wanted to be just like her. I looked up to her so much that becoming one with her would allow me to be me but the way I always imagined and dreamed.

Call it an improved version of myself. My Momma doesn’t know this version of myself. But I would like for her to know that me. One day! Right now she is not ready and it is safer to just play my role as the daughter she knows.

Some call this the alter ego. After all I am an all around artist, a Renaissance chick. Others may call it crazy, schizophrenia, touched or “Special”!

Many people may not be familiar with it. But those that create, imagine or dream on a class 5 mutant level, already know where I’m coming from.

I love my Mother. She is a beautiful woman, a Holiness woman. It will be a beautiful day when I introduce myself to her. It will compare much like, but not quite like, being born again.

She may not hold me as she did when I was a baby, but the hug will be genuine.

I already know that some people reading this might for a second think that this other version of me is bad or negative in some way, but I’m not at all.

Have you ever imagined being who you are in another way? Not like someone else, more like someone else and that someone else just so happens to be you. It may be complicated to understand for some, but for those who have an open mind about it, it’s very feasible.

The stories that I will share with my Mom will be grand. It will be like an adventure that she’s reading from a book and after hearing it all she will be in awe and I think she will like that version of me.

I would never get rid of the one she knows though. To shun that version all together would be selfish. That version of me is the strongest connection that she has with that me.

But one day, one day, one day, she will know. Signs around me will let me know. They always do. I will stay forever watchful.

-LeXXah Drew It-

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“He Can Not Draw Me!” LeXXah Drew Poetry Sunday

…………….AND HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH MY FACE BECAUSE HE THINKS MY FACE IS BEAUTIFUL.

HE REMEMBERS MY FACE AND MY EYES REMEMBER HIM. AND WITHIN MY REMEMBERANCE, IT IS BECAUSE OF MY GIFT THAT CLAIMED ME AS AN ARTIST, IN AN ARTISTS’ EYES I CAN FORGET NOT HIS FACE.

HE TURNS AWAY, HE TURNS HIS BACK, HE TURNS TO DO HIS DAILY ROUTINE, BUT WHILE HE IS TURNED HE LOOKS AT A BLANK CANVAS. HE FEELS ITS TOUCH. HE FEELS ITS HEAVEN. THE BLANK SPOT IS BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE HE CAN ENVISION ANYTHING BEAUTIFUL THAT COMES TO HIS MIND, ON IT.

HE ENVISIONS MY FACE AND THE CANVAS IS BEAUTIFUL. HE ARISES FROM STILL THE MEDIUM AND BEGINS TO DRAW BEAUTIFUL, BUT IN A MOMENTS BREATH HE STOPS.

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HE CAN NOT DRAW MY FACE. MY FACE IS IN HIS MIND. MY FACE SMILES, GRINS, FLAUNTS AND CARESSES HIS ACTIONS. HIS THUMB FLOATS ACROSS MY BOTTOM LIP AND FROM LEFT TO RIGHT I BLINK ONE TIME. IT IS SLOW, IT IS CALM, IT IS LOVE THAT WRAPS HIS PRESENT. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL IN HIS MIND, BUT HE CAN NOT DRAW ME.

HE WONDERS WHY, HE PONDERS? IS IT BECAUSE HE DOES NOT REMEMBER HOW!!?? MAYBE IT IS BECAUSE SOMETIMES BEAUTY IS NOT MEANT TO BE DRAWN, TO BE DRAWN ON THE WORLD’S MOST THINNEST TREE…………….

MAYBE SOMETIMES BEAUTY IS TO BE DRAWN, TO BE KEPT IN A MORE SACRED PLACE. NOT SO MUCH IN THE MIND, BUT THE VERY THING THAT IS SHIELDED BY THE BREAST PLATE. NO, MY FACE IS NOT HARD TO DRAW MY LOVE, IT JUST BELONGS ON A DIFFERENT TYPE OF CANVAS AND WITH A MEDIUM THAT HAS NO WIDTH OF A STROKE.

-LeXXah Drew It-

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