Queen of Soul – Rest In Peace

Seems like Aretha Franklin has been playing in the background all of my life. I remember her records on at my Big Momma’s house when I was a little girl. Whenever I really went through anything hard, I would play her singing Bridge Over Troubled Water and allow myself to just cry.
During my drives from Ft. Meade, MD to Muskegon, MI, I would play her greatest hits album and sing at the top of my lungs.
She has a song that fits every situation and there is nobody that can sing and move me like she can.
I honor and appreciate her. May she Rest In Peace. #arethafranklin #queenofsoul


Mother – A poem for my mom

I wrote this poem for a class (Women’s Lives Into Literature) last year about my mom. Today is her birthday, so I thought I should share. I hope you enjoy it.


It is no wonder

That the first God that we see

Is often our mothers.

We come into the world

Solely dependent upon them.

If she is a good one,

We feel loved.

If she is a bad one,

We crave love.

As we get older,

We separate.

She is no longer

All knowing


Ever present


All good

In fact,

She is often wrong.

We are often at odds.

I don’t know when

I began to despise

My own mother


I did.

We were so close

In age.

We grew up together.

But we grew apart.

Always at odds.

I don’t recall the moment

That we stopped fighting.

But we did.

One day, I looked up and we were friends

My mother and I –

I was very surprised.

She wasn’t.

When my daughter had brain surgery,

And began having seizures

In the hospital,

I was there alone.

I sent a text to my mother

To tell her.

I would swear that only fifteen minutes had passed

Although that’s not possible

She was 45 minutes away.

But it was like

She had a super power that day.

When she walked through that hospital door.

Just to be with me

To be a support

And we sat on the couch in the room

My mother and I –

My daughter sedated,

The room quiet

My heart thankful

That this woman

Gave me her strength

And that I could receive it

And as a result

Be strong.

Tenisia Davis – August 2017

enjoyable moments

it’s like

sitting back and reading a thought-provoking book
without interruption,

just a white chocolate mocha
to occasionally provide me with that extra
sweet physical stimuli 
while my mind is already realizing some new reminder
of things i already knew 
chatting with friends 
and feeling a sense of love
and acceptance 
for who you actually are 
and being comfortable in that space
while laughing about something silly that one of you 
has done or said
being with him for a day
and taking in the pleasure
with a lightness of being, a sense of home
like all is right with the world and 
its ok to be my best self
while holding his hand or 
moving closer to him to take it all in
and allow myself to feel the connection
watching my son move about 
with wonder
yet comfortable in who he is 
because he hasn’t yet learned that 
he is not the center of the universe
while he looks at me 
as if i hold all of the answers,
and all of the comfort and all of the love in 
all of the world
thinking of my daughter 
with pride
knowing that she is a survivor of 
tremendous things
and being fearful 
of what is to come while 
that i held her hand and that she thinks 
i am her pillar of strength
while i am waiting for her 
to understand her own strength
exhilarating and frightening
wonderful and inspiring
there is so much joy,
and fear but
infinite possibilities abound
in those little things
that i enjoy
each of those moments bringing
new potential
for life to unfold.
sometimes i just have to stop
and breathe.
i know i get ahead of myself.
right now i am taking it in.
realizing how 
one breath
one memory
one thought
one feeling
right now
it permeates 
my entire being
that is enjoyable enough

mothers are superheroes

This experience has been the most emotional, horrendous, moving, exhausting experience in my life.

So many people have called me strong. That word has stuck with me through out this experience. It always makes me want to kind of step back and say, no I’m not. I’m just a mom. The word keeps coming up and keeps sticking with me. So much so that I just have to address it.

I have always thought that there is a special and unique spirit that only a mother possesses. There are mothers and there are mothers. So not every woman that has a child and is called mother is a mother. This I know. But when I speak about mothers, I am talking about that special gift to a person’s world that is essential to a persons being. It’s spiritual.

I have always been thankful for mothers. Women who carry a baby in their womb and think and worry and pray and cry and shout and laugh over that baby/child’s life and future. Like God, a mother loves their child from the womb. And it is often all encompassing.

With that said, a year ago when we found out that my first born child had a brain tumor. It rocked my world. Because I knew it would change my child’s world. But we have been on this journey and fighting this fight for this past year. And among all other things, a mother is a fighter. She is a soldier. She surveys the landscape and circumstance of her child and prepares to meet the coming enemy with her might. Sometimes she will win and sometimes she will lose. But she fights nonetheless. And sometimes, she has a whole army with her. I have had so much support from my family and friends and even strangers. A whole army of people with well wishes, kind thoughts and words.

Through out this year, I have had my mind set against the Big “C” word. Hopefully, the tumor is not cancer. That was my mantra. But then the tumor was cancer. But it is a “curable cancer”  it responds well to chemo and radiation and they believe they can get it all. Now the radiation may cause problems 20 years or so down the line but even those should respond well to chemo/radiation.

So now, we have a name. The enemy has a face. And we face the enemy. My daughter is strong. She takes this and keeps on going and planning. That makes me stronger.

Sometimes, I cry. But I don’t allow myself to wallow in a river of tears. Sometimes, I look at my daughter and feel sad at her laying in the hospital bed. But then I think about how blessed we are that it is not worse.  We have seen other children in this hospital on this floor who’s story breaks my heart. My heart goes out to their mothers. They are so strong. And the children are always smiling.

I think that says a lot. It says that you can deal with what is placed in your path. It may be hard. It may make you cry. But you still put one foot in front of the other and walk.

So to everyone who thinks I am strong. You should know that I am just a mother. And I’ve always known that mother’s are super hero’s.

such is life (or routines #2)

our paths cross

sometimes it’s the right time

until its not.

can’t be responsible for the tides

so i just ebb & flow

sometimes you move me

to euphoric heights of

godly passion & then

your actions bring me

back to reality, prompting me to

fall back to my

default position – “I’m good”

never met a state of me-ness

that wasn’t refreshing

so when you wax & wane

taking me up & bringing me down

i still remain ready to meet myself

both feet on the ground

i only have to question your intentions

when i’m fighting against my own

Intuition, telling me to

leave you where i found you

but i don’t always listen

sometimes i gotta learn the hard way

& that’s alright

at any given moment

i am liable to wake from my

slumber, stretch my arms

& get to moving. i rarely even

miss you when i walk away

If you have made it on this list

of those who have come & gone

consider yourself blessed to

have crossed my path

i was thankful for the lesson & energy

That flowed between you & me

& now i’m off to my default position.

Such is life

where are my words?

i’ve been searching for a poem..

i’m thinking black feminism of the 60’s/70’s type poems/poems of self discovery/poems with attitude/poems like don’t bring that shit my way

i’m talking indignant poems/poems like i don’t have to take this shit/poems like.did you walk by me and not recognize the god in me

right when i needed a particular poem for my sanity/i couldn’t find one/not in my boxes of books/not on my bookshelves/not in the pile of books next to and under my bed

here i am searching and scrambling for just the right poem/just the right poem to slap somebody over the head with/just the right poem to yell in someone’s face/just the right poem to shake my head at somebody that should be a shamed of themselves

but i still haven’t found it..it’s driving me crazy/here i am searching and searching for just the right poem..maybe an alice or a nikki..or a gwendolyn..or a sonia

i need a poem with fire/right now/to speak my obscure thoughts/

these thoughts/below the surface/these feelings that need release/this passion ignited/this indignation that somebody would look me right in my face/and not see me/look me right in my face with no regard

i need a how dare you type of poem/but i can’t find one/at one point i would write it myself/but somehow/i can’t find the words