"Poetry, Language Of the Soul" {P.L.O.T.S.}

💔Many are broken💔

We need to remember that we all go through things in life. I’m not a religious individual. However, if LOVE were a religion? Then I’m a LOVER. The broken? They’re ME, YOU, US, THEM…WE. We cannot keep throwing people away. They need help as much as anyone else & sometimes even more so.

 

I grew up in Brooklyn, NY. Born sickly, was severely abused by almost everyone I came across in my childhood, teenage years & adulthood; from the cradle to the classroom, literally. I was always angry and in pain, physically & emotionally. I was dubbed by a close family member with the name, “Mad-Max.” I was hurting, angry, lost, became detached from life in many ways & at an early age, I became a mother (I was 16 & he was 34 – happens when you’re homeless & your parents didn’t break the cycle either)and suffered greatly. I loved my children but only partially. I didn’t know how to love them past being a provider & disciplining then. People gave up on me & it took a large majority of my life, trying to figure things out. My life was my own personal hell, filled with walls & no way out. But somewhere deep within was the real ME. The ME that was connected to a Soul so deep, that poetry was the only hidden voice that I had. I wrote poems at times, simply to hold onto my sanity & humanity.

 

See, when I was growing up, kids like me? They usually didn’t last long. They were killed, stuck in abusive situations, became criminals, became abusers, committed suicide, went stark raving mad (oh I lost it a few times), were bitter or simply fucked-up, one way or another. I was in my own personal hell for what seemed like a never-ending nightmare. There wasn’t anyone that loved me. I also was clueless as to how to love myself. People were afraid of me & I became afraid of myself as I sunk deeper & deeper into my own dark chaos. I was labeled a monster by my abusers, strangers, family & so called friends. There were times when being a monster was the only respect & fear that was attached to me. I was fortunate to not be a criminal. Reading at a High School level by the time I was 3, was my only outlet. I immersed myself in reading EVERYTHING.

 

I made many mistakes but I learned. I wasn’t able to be there for my children in the way I wished I could’ve been. But once I figured it out? It’s been part of my life’s purpose to help others & especially those that life/humanity has forgotten, the labeled “Underdogs”, “Monsters”, “The Less Than”, poor and underprivileged, anyone who’s suffering & need a “port in the storm.” I can’t save & help everyone, but I do what I am able. I’ve also learned how to not waste my energies. Once I am satisfied that I’ve done all that I can, I’ve learned to keep it moving. Because you can drown in a flood while trying to rescue people. I’ve drowned a few times, lol! I just refuse to give up😌. It does take a toll, but I never regret helping others. It’s one of the things that make me happy.🥰

 

People wonder how I can be so loving, share positivity & love…Lol, trust me, it’s better to exist in this space than the one that I was in before. Every chance that I get to show someone Love, is a beautiful thing. Anytime someone remembers how to love themselves & share that? Absolutely PRICELESS. That’s how we change things.

 

But we have to see that we all live here. Why not make or contribute in making life a better thing to experience? A kind word, helping someone, asking someone if they’re okay, checking on your neighbors, smiling at people, heck! Don’t forget to smile at yourself, feed or clothe those in need, stop being able to send a text to a stranger but if you see abuse & suffering right under your nose you walk by, give that homeless person a blanket, food & make inquiries as to why they’re out in the cold, ask a child or adult if they’ve eaten, don’t try to change anyone try to help, STOP MINDING YOUR OWN BUSINESS, because if we all cared a bit more, what a world this would be. Yes, people trying to help get hurt and have even lost their lives. The irony? Those who fear this, would be awed that if those who helped had to do it all again? They would. Think about that.

 

This video touched my heart because often no one ever gives a shit about the abuser or the criminal. Although this is overstood, they weren’t born destroying lives & themselves. Something happened, whether we know it or not. It takes a different type of human being to do what they do at “Homeboy Industries.”

 

One person matters, because one by one, like drops of water forming the oceans, we’re uniquely created & even stronger together.

 

“We’re All In This Thing Called Life, TOGETHER…Remember?”❤️💛💚

By, Maxwanette A Poetess