Why I am the Rose that Grew from Concrete...

---I am tough yet fragile, I am a delicate soul with a heart of stone. I am struggle, I am pain but embody strength and endurance. I am scared, I am brave. I am a lot like my momma Africa, rich in spirit yet withers away at the first sign of abundance from its sister nations---

American poet and author, Maya Angelou once said; "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

The first time I came across these words I nodded in disbelief, not only because they rang true to me but because I could not comprehend how Maya, a world renowned author, who has penned some of the greatest poems this generation has ever come across could possibly know of this agony fuelled by letting your story go unheard.

It is obviously easy for me to sit and wonder how Miss Angelou could possibly torture herself like that, with an untold story when writing is as natural to her as breathing is to common folk. It was easy for me to think like that because I did not consider her past, her struggles and the battles she had to conquer on her way to the top. You see for me, Maya has always been great, it has always been that way, how else could she get that good?

This was my thinking until I actually started reading Miss Angelou. Her five part self penned biography is testament to why and how she came to make such a statement. You see, here was a woman who had bottled up her fight with the world for so long that she needed five books to really put her story across, here is a woman who had silenced her thoughts and her wrestle with life until she was toppled with emotion and finally burst in rage.

Maya was once just like me, just like you, just like us. Sitting with a story that was worth hearing while battling thoughts filled with insecurities probably questioning whether her tale was really worth telling. She became a woman who won the battle with fear, chose to listen to her hearts desire and squash all that fear by proving how worthy her story was of being told.

Enough of praising Maya. But her story is one that I resonate with, it is one that spells from 'pad to published'. It is a story I sit and daydream about as if it was mine, in the hope that it will one day become mine.

I am constantly growing and discovering myself every single day, facing battles that I sometimes feel that I can not win regardles of how hard I put in a good fight. I wake up to find days that make me wanna get right back into the warmth of my snuggly blankies and just block out the entire earth. But another wise man once uttered words along the lines of  either you continue your sleep with dreaming OR wake up and chase your dreams.

This is why I am a shining blaque rose, because I chose to believe so. Because I chose to filter all the other crap* and stay steadily on my hustle. I am a rose because life decided to pull the silver spoon out of my mouth and taught me to fend for myself. I have not been the kid that had it easy since I was six, I have been like the beggar that moves in ambiguity, hoping that a different turn will lead him to a few dimes. I dream in darkness, I praise in the absence of faith, I show gratitude in times of despair and I smile through my pain.

I see the light that shines and I am a hopeless dreamer and believer despite the deals that are dealt to me, or rather that I deal to myself. I would sooner be the 84 year old Maya Angelou who now sits in a well of wisdom, and basks in the knowledge that she did the right thing rather than a twenty year, even thirty year old Angelou who second guesses herself while undermining her capabilities!

I am not saying I am there yet, but I am saying that my thorns have sharpened and my petals, weary and bruised as they are, are still so beautiful and bright, and can only grow from strength to strength. It is not for some, it is for all, we are all troubled by the same concrete mix, it's the drive and persistence embedded in our roots that will determine whether our stories will ever be told.

I finally know why the caged bird sings, it is because it wants to be free. Free from fear and free from the agony that comes with bearing a story untold. The only way that this bird will sing uncaged is to press on, continue to sing for its freedom and sing its story, sing to itself until it is heard, sing so loud that the shackles that cage it will open in aggravation and let it free.

Until next post,

Africa Rising, Peace & Revolution...