TWAL ZWAZO (silk bird)
(tale of a Haitian woman)

Her space
The settlement of rusted flesh
A sense of isolation
Lamentation in her accordion dream
A female ventriloquist in a state of longing
Collaboration gelled in her empty eyes
Empty heart
Empty soul
Buried climax
Head wrapped with recitation
Knotted by horsehair with fish bones
Underskinned fighting for courage
Crucified by sleep without rest
Politics urinating blood
Leave streaks of revolt
Chained by poverty
With lack of literacy
She wants to be set free
From instability
Free from coup d’etat’s whips
Free from the ruckus
Those drop spits from the elite
Their legacy migrates seasons of drought
On eye sockets nestled in pus
No water to irrigate the peasants
My ancestors descended from Jeremie
Down the tiny hill of Rozeau
The village town where women eat mud with their toes
And men pour their wounds on Haiti’s soil
You will find her there
Sheltered in her carnivorous bones soft like manioc
Hairless with her virus
She will question you with a Mardi gras smile
Who are you?
What can you do to help your our people?
Take note
Grab a tape recorder
Her story she wants to be heard
Hurry before she flies away with Diaspora wings
Before she reaches the skies with claws of her spine
There is no rainfall in her coffin
No vegetation
The rivers have dried out
The scent of bones is present
©2010 by C. Delaleu

MORNING BIRTH

At the sight of your love
I have summoned the skies to crack open
Its windows and pour a free verse of rain
White doves flutter sweetly like the song in your eyes
I understand how it’s possible for the heart
To speak in tongues when the morning mist
Covers more than a 100000 acres of handwritten deliverance
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu(PUBLISHED IN ESSENCE MAGAZINE IN 2006)

It's been a slow, yet productive week for me. I've been writing my little head off, trying to keep mind, body and spirit as busy as possible. I need to go back to the unfinished manuscript to get it published by January, but for now I'm falling in love all over again with poetry. I must have written about 20 or so pieces these past few days and more keeps coming to mind. My hands can't stop moving and at 3am, forget it, that's when i'm turning on the lights, picking up my pen and paper next to me on the mattress and start writing something new. What's very stimulating to me is visiting other poets or writers' blogs, I love their play of words, it keeps me going and going like the energizer bunny. One thing for sure, writing is therapeutic, when i've been in and out of hospital, it was always there waiting for me. My journals calling my name in the middle of night, come out and play, lol, don't feel down and out...and yes, that's what blogging is all about. Here is an inspiring poem to share. Enjoy your day!!


AMPUTATED RECOVERY
With battled fingers
Mindless of the pain within
Numbness takes over
Some sees
Pretend it doesn’t exist
Their spirit unable to latch this reality
That we all eventually will step into the challenges of death
How will we embrace it?
With toes in hand?
With rain or rays of sunshine?
I’ve allowed the sun to dip into my toes
With his tender warmth
A first kiss literally gives me hope
I simply want to feel again with my belly inside out
Exposed for others to sniff a fraction of my strength
For I’m unaware of its powers
The ability to fight back the pain that repeats itself
You want to know why I fight so hard?
Poets are only given 12 hours to make it right
The other 12 hours to dwell on dreams again and again
Until we shine in all directions without caution
We are ever changing light bulbs
Unconscious of our strong abilities
How oxygen and words invade our lungs for a purpose
The particles non toxic to share with the world
They need to see
They need to comprehend
We do have the license to touch their lives
Required to impact much before our deadline emerges itself
Like the saying goes
I am here
I am still standing
© 2009 by Cathy Delaleu
Lupus Survivor

The last time I fell in love was on top of a sunset
I left you in Fort Green diluting your emotions in
A jar of shea butter
You’re shirtless again
Ebony tinted skin polished with beauty
I see this magical landscape
It makes me want to die in your arms
Like Gone with the wind
I will never go hungry again
You’re the national treasure of my soul
I’m on top of your sunset
Watching you swim the modest waterways
Your name unpredictable to many
I catch your shiny star to show support
A woman who loves stands by her man no matter what the cost
Intense is this love
Your sculpture enhances an azure sky with sleeping dragons
You run fingers through my short hair
I am your dawn
Your camelback ride to paradise
Your tropical smoothie
The mineral oil that boost your unruly locks
We run together towards the sunset
You’re not afraid to stand next to me
It seems natural
Such a magical place
Remember the Good Times?
Even the moments we skipped breakfast
Our bellies full of love
No probiotic needed
Just the fragrance of guava and cocoa butter
You leave birthmarks on the sand
My name written with your footprints
You want me to practice my French
That way I call your name when the sun sets
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

9/24/09

Today was a good day. The sun was out and I was able to go for a nature walk. I treated myself at Barnes and Nobles, bought a journal, a vegeterian cooking book and poetry book by Nikki Giovanni. I was anxious, couldn't wait to get home to digest the poetry book and to write on my new journal. Expressing my thoughts is the best remedy, especially when you're dealing with an illness. Lately, i've been writing my little heart off with many poems...can't wait to work on the next book, it's about that time. In the evening, my mother came home and I showed her the cooking book, she fell in love with it and i suggested we try a new dish. We sure did. I chose to make asparagus soup...it was delish, thick, hot and flavorful. Mom loves to cook, so it was easy to convince to try something new for the palate.

SCARS

Check for scars
For bruises hidden beneath your thighs
Unfold the secret garden of your tongue
With east coast stories of subway rides
One metro card will lead you to a potential mate
That makes you salivate
Remember
Scars won’t disappear on their own
They’re reminders of past mistakes
Created with your heart
While you run helpless without any resources
In a stranger’s bosom
Where you expect eternal bliss
The wakeup call is usually apparent
You pretend not to notice the scars
Still lingering on your back and chest
You want them to disappear with your notepad in hand
The use of dental floss to scrape off guilt, lies, pain
Entangled with Sunday confessions
You will never heal with prayer alone
It remains to be seen
The rust you left behind in your mother’s womb
Is an investment
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu Writings

The power of writing has many consequences. It can reveal,inspire, destroy, elevate and sometimes it can be hurtful or brutal. Like some who consider suicide and leave their mark with an emotional letter, letting their loved ones know what caused them to end their life. I feel when you have that kind of gift to move people, it means all is not lost. God granted you these lovely hands and fingers for a reason.

The many challenges I had to face these past few months took a toll on my body. Yes, I did consider not to write in my blog and even allowed Mr. Writer's Block to take over. What made it worse is the ugly monster, I should say "my ugly demon" Lupus SLE (www.Lupus.org), came out of hiding again.

A year ago 2008, my life completely changed when Lupus paid me a nasty visit leaving me disfigured and I lost all the self-confidence I had in me. I was doing good in NY with a great job, my own apartment and many friends. But, sometimes you get a wake-up call...so I was unrecognizable physically and mentally, forget about emotionally. I felt not even a therapist can fully understand this illness.

I was diagnosed in 2007 and it's been a battle ever since. Yet, I'm blessed to wake up everyday with family and friends who show support. To understand this auto-immune disease, one must be very patient and non-judgemental. For example, people will look at you and think, "She's pretty,well, she don't act or look sick". Then, 3 months later, you're swollen all over, can't barely get out of bed and depression sets in. Your mind plays tricks on you, makes you believe no one gives a damn and you might as well die in your sleep.

Lupus SLE is not an easy illness to deal with cause in order to fight it, you must be mentally strong to do so and make yourself a list on how to be ahead of it. Lupus loves stress and depression, actually most Lupus sufferers are affected with joint issues due to stress. Also, Lupus loves it when you eat the wrong type of food, dairy and wheat will eventually send a Lupus SLE candidate to the hospital. I've been there more than once. Also, it does not tolerate excessive sun or cold winters. I live in 100 degrees AZ heat and i'm still struggling, but not as bad as when I lived in NY.

I was very hurt when a blogger friend told me of Nikki's passing. It's sad to hear such news, especially knowing she was so young. I'm sure sure Nikki wouldn't want us to dwell on her loss or illness. She was a great blogger, writer, feisty with her words. She would want us to remember her wonderful writing and beautiful personality. The more we do, the most we celebrate her life and her light will continue to shine. You can show your love by stopping by her blog (http://iniquitous1.blogspot.com), i'm sure her family would appreciate it. As for me, i'm taking it one day at a time with much prayer and meditation.

GRATEFUL DRUMROLL

1.Thankful for my mom who is a true believer of natural medicine and who is trying her hardest to make me feel better
2. The pouring rain that woke me up this morning and kept me smiling
3. Delicious salad I made for lunch and dinner
4. Jazz music which helps relax my body and mind
5. Phone call from friends who continue to show love and concern


NO ANSWERS

I can't tell you why we leave this earth
all I know is once we do
our footprints remain on the sheets we write on
we are never forgotten
family and friends will make sure of it

Hello all!!

It's been a wonderful, steamy summer so far
Can't stop counting the many blessings
Just got back from my busy NY trip where I held
my poetry/art show in Manhattan on 6/21/09
It was the 2nd annual Tavern of Creativity
It turned out to be very uplifting with the 9 poets
who read their work and the 3 artists who got to promote
their beautiful, unique art
Already, I am planning for next year's event
I want to thank all those who showed support and
those blogger friends I got to meet for the first time
More pics will be posted soon








BOAT PEOPLE - English as a second language
We are all on the same boat
The same one that cradled us far far away
from our native country
On that shriveled boat we see our land
Slowly disappears out of sight
Scent of earth and seashells evaporates
We dip fingers in the cold sea water
To bring back memories shed from our flesh
As we make it to shore
Our womb screams for home
The unfamiliar swallows our feet in the sand
Cruel destiny proposed by this foreign land
This foreign language
It is not home
It will never be home
It can never be home
No orange sun in sight to kiss the mountains at night
No smell of coffee beans or fresh patties in the morning
No rooster crowing
No children in school uniforms with their bright smiles
No church bells ringing our joy on Sundays
No seduction of acoustic guitars and drums
To swing our hips until the wee hours
In this foreign land we are too old to enjoy life
Too cold for sweet kisses on the cheek
Too vulnerable to protect the young generation
We are all on that same boat
Cradling with our dreams of a better Haiti
We cradle until there’s no life left in us
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting for answers
We shall rise
Only if our dreams allow it
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu