GENESIS: This is ONLY the beginning!

"When God spoke to the atoms that made me,
light arose from my skin,
energy shot like the wind,
and I became a masterpiece;
a product of His faith,
and He sheltered me until, "it is finished."

When I cried alone in my filthy rags,
ashamed of my disobedience,
I gazed upon His face,
the crisp edges of His appearance,
no jagged words fell from His mouth,
just a sly smile and a tender kiss,
sealing every crack I made beautifully,
I became His friend and His royal love.

When my mother named me,
hurting in pain, emotionally exhausted,
looking for a man to claim the seed,
blurred out vision, crowded mind,
broken seal without permission,
disturbed essence, brittle heart,
shattered pieces of love on the bed she refused to sleep in again, I knew,
God awakened me for her.

When I was born,
I was her inception, the breaking point,
storms and split seas, the bloody murder,
the threat to a nation who doesn't know me,
Genesis.

As I stared at Poetry, I fell in love. Naked, she read. "

  - Excerpt from "Poetry: The Words of Those Unheard" by Camilla Pleasant (Available on WattPad: @grownishmila)

I was in love once before her. Her dad was the soul holder of my soul. He saved me from reckoning, drafted me from a dystopia. I was in a fairy tale land with him and before I knew it - we were damaged more than ever. Our love started in the midnight cold, under the stars, near the park benches and basketball court. He approached me with such a soft face and caring heart offering his attention to my needs. He promised to always be there by a simple touch. He had my heart as I turned around and studied his figure. It was pure connection. 

Along the lines, we clashed and burned. After the miscarriage, I hated him for leaving me before he knew he created another life inside a woman he actually loved - before I knew her life was in my hands. So, distraught and hurt. I kept drowning myself in alcohol. Starving myself from what I needed. And when I saw those lines, I got scared. I was excited. Yet nothing felt right. Blood was leaking & as quickly as I was believing - she died in my hands. Naked. Alone. & there I was, naked and alone. 

We fell apart then. No longer did he rub my belly. No longer did he want to talk about it. Honestly - neither did I - except I wanted to mourn her properly. So, I dedicated a dear poem to her expressing grief in a manner of respect. Celebrating her arrival for the time being & gratefully appreciating her full form of existence. That's when I decided to grow, to heal, to experience life in a way I would've fought for her to.