I Lived. I Loved. I Learned.: Writing from the Women at Serendipity II

I Lived. I Loved.

I Learned.

Writing from the Women at Serendipity 1

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I Lived. I Loved.

I Learned.

Writing from the Women at Serendipity Spring 2009

NY Writers Coalition Press 3

Copyright Š 2009 NY Writers Coalition Inc. Upon publication, copyright to individual works returns to the authors.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Editor: Roohi Choudhry Layout: Deborah Clearman I Lived. I Loved. I Learned contains writing by the members of a creative writing workshop for women conducted by NY Writers Coalition Inc. at Serendipity II. NY Writers Coalition Inc. is a not-for-profit organization that provides free creative writing workshops throughout New York City for people from groups that have been historically deprived of voice in our society. For more information about NY Writers Coalition Inc.: NY Writers Coalition Inc. 80 Hanson Place #603 Brooklyn, NY 11217 (718) 398-2883 info@nywriterscoalition.org www.nywriterscoalition.org

Serendipity II for women is a residential program primarily for individuals in the criminal justice system who have a substance abuse problem. It also welcomes walk-ins who are voluntarily seeking treatment. The Serendipity program consists of individuals living together while they work through those personal and practical issues which block them from living fulfilling and drugfree lives.

Serendipity II 944 Bedford Avenue Brooklyn, NY 11205

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INTRODUCTION “My heart,” I say. The women around me scribble furiously. “Yesterday my heart was,” I call out, “and, tomorrow my heart will be.” I sense pens quicken as pages rustle, palpable electricity crackling in this room of tense, concentrating bodies.

We are seated around a table at Serendipity, a residential substance use treatment program for women in BedStuy, Brooklyn, where I lead a weekly writing workshop. Afterward, we read our pieces aloud. We have written about the places our hearts long for, and the actions our hearts regret. It is not long before we are in tears, applauding each other, cheering what we have made together.

Many of the women this evening are new to the workshop, some are new to any kind of creative writing, and are startled by the power of their own words. But I am not surprised. I am awed each week by the voices that ring in my ears long after I have made my way home. I have come to expect brilliance on Thursday nights.

This chapbook collects just some of the amazing work from our workshop. We deliberated long and hard over a title for it, finally deciding on “I lived. I loved. I learned.” It was Clare Tricoche's response to an exercise: “write your memoir in exactly six words.” We think she just about summed everything up.

Many thanks to Ms. Armstrong, Ms. Alexander and all the counselors at Serendipity II for making this 6

workshop possible, and to Deborah Clearman at the New York Writers' Coalition for her guidance and unflagging support. I am also in debt to Suzanne Guillette who successfully ran this workshop for two years before me, and remains an intimidating act to follow. Most of all, thank you to my dear friends, the ladies of Serendipity, who remind me each week what a beautiful blessing it is to find words.

Roohi Choudhry, Workshop Leader February, 2009

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LOVE IS A DOUGHNUT Nerys Arias Love is a doughnut.

It is soft.

It is sweet.

It is hot, Or it can be cold.

Can be glazed or powdery, Can be red or can be white.

Love can be a big hole.

Love, love, love.

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MY HEART Nerys Arias My heart is red My heart is blue It is made sometimes of cotton and sometimes of metal.

My heart wants joy My heart wants peace like a spring breeze like a river flow.

My heart believes this will be true just want and this will be too.

My heart dreams of being carried away by someone so close to my soul and heart, I can feel them.

Yesterday my heart was lonely and full of pain and sorrow.

But tomorrow, my heart will be full of laughter and very joyous.

As long as it listens to itself Pit-pat-pit-pat.

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My heart clearly sees another day full of sunshine.

My heart remembers as a child full of energy full of joy.

If you could touch my heart, you’d feel the hurt subside.

If I could show you my heart you’d see the goodness there is in me.

My heart, so full of love So sweet.

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HAIR Aleathea Brown When I was eight, my hair was as long as Rapunzel. It took two hours to wash and untangle it. Like my life, a big knot slowly becoming untangled.

When I was fifteen, my hair was short. It was in a Parisian haircut. I looked like Josephine Baker / Toni Braxton stopping traffic.

When I am in the now, I love my hair long and dark like a vampire. Sexy and dark, mysterious and aggressive. I feel I can have any man I want.

I love it when I have the Cleopatra. I feel my past life as an Egyptian woman in the royal palace – eyes painted, smelling of Egyptian musk, intoxicating my many male slaves.

I love my hair in pin curls, looking like the Greek goddess Artemis on the hunt.

I love box braids / extensions, looking like a beautiful slave girl who has the pharaoh’s heart in my hands, my eyes glowing like stars when he sneaks into his sister’s chamber to take me away from my duties.

I love when I wear the roaring 20s, dressed like a woman of the 20s, waiting for her Hep Cat to go down to the Cotton Club to slow dance to Billie Holiday.

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LIVING TO DIE Aleathea Brown For most of my life I was living to die. I waited for the cold grip of death to take me under. I felt hopeless. It felt easier, easier to die, being comfortable in my misery, hugging the darkness in whole. Death, misery, and pain my eternal lovers, feeding my despair.

For me, living was hard, and dying or waiting to die was easier. All I had to do was lie in wait for my heart to stop, I begged God to let me go. But God said no.

He allowed me to feel alone, to feel lost. I asked for more than I could handle. The thought of death and darkness surrounded my existence. One day, I was surrounded by light, then the light was gone. I was in total darkness. I tried to adjust my eyes to death but saw nothing.

All I could hear was my heart. For the first time in my life, I felt my heart. My heart was alive through the darkness. My heart beat strong. As I counted the beats, I walked. I trusted the beat of my heart. Something began to change. Instead of living to die, I was dying to live.

He took everything away from me so I could appreciate life again. I realized I was scared to live: to live is to love, to love is to be free. He came to me and showed me a spark. I began to walk, then I ran, then I ran as fast as I could towards that light. I knew there was terror beneath my feet trying to hold me still but I 14

heard him calling my name and this time I responded to his call. I fought the evil beneath me and kept looking straight. He gave me humility, humbleness and the willpower to carry on.

Instead of living to die, I died to live. A part of me wanted life, serenity, peace. All I had to do was make it to the end of the tunnel and victory would be mine.

A PICTURE OF MY FATHER Aleathea Brown What comes to mind is a picture of my father when he was 27 and he was playing the drums.

My father looked happy and complete amongst the musicians on the stage.

My father looked very handsome and he looked like for once in his life, he found where he belonged.

In that photograph, frozen in time, playing his instrument of choice, the drums.

I lost that picture but never the belief that no matter what, he could always pick up where he left off and belong again.

A lot has changed, only the beat stays the same as yesterday, tomorrow and today. xoxo Daddums.

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“WRITING THESE POEMS BRINGS ABOUT THE CENTER OF BEAUTY IN ALL OF US” Florence Connors I’m learning each week about the beauty of all my sisters.

How each and everything comes to a full circle.

It’s amazing the talent and beauty that comes from a thought to reality.

It could inspire me, the way it’s spoken, as the feelings arise from the pen to the paper.

I’m surely finding that all of us if we keep our minds occupied, it’s a world of wonder.

That’s why writing is terrific.

MOTHERS Florence Connors Mothers are special so you need to handle them with care They make some decisions that you might not care for. They teach you things about life and the world So when you grow up, you’ll already beware Things in the world seem so unfair So I suggest you handle your mother with care.

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CAGED AND FREE Florence Connors I find myself in the park Watching nature sing I see the tree in full bloom As the children play I seen this man whistle A tune as he stroll along And in his hand he had a Cage about a foot long As I walked towards him He seated his self on the bench To watch the children play I stopped to glance at what he had In the brown cage I said to him, Mister why Do caged birds sing?

He said the bird sings of freedom As I’m about to do He lifted it up and I seen Him let the cage open The bird leaped out the cage The bird flew in the tree I heard him sing a song I waved to the bird singing bye bye As I resumed my walk I know why the caged bird sings A lovely lullaby He’s on his way to freedom As I am feeling something Maybe if I sing a love song I’ll truly be free Of all the things that plague me 18

MY FAVORITE COLORS Florence Connors The color of blue makes me smile It changes my frown into a smile Blue changes the way I feel It makes me think of a baby So small and timid.

The color of burgundy Does its job, it makes me think Of this place I’d like to be It takes me far far away from here I need to stand for eternity.

The color of white brings things to A light. I love the snow so pretty And white, makes things seem so bright This too I have to say I love the snow so pretty and white When the snow hits nature and Covers the land, I wish this color Would last or stand.

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SIX WORDS Jayleine Figueroa Will I ever meet my sisters?

Why was I abused for no reason?

What color is my blood ‘really’?

If you are dumb or dumber! (please do not drive the car) Do I really want people to like me or be honest?

Daddy, are you really my father?

Have I been disowned by my sister?

Am I part-white or am I just color-blind?

I can’t believe it.

Why is the sky always blue?

Why am I here and alive?

Why was I born an addict?

Do I believe in anonymity?

Do I believe in surrendering?

Why do I get hurt all the time?

Does God believe I will survive?

Is God man or woman?

Who wrote the Bible, man or woman?

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MY HEART Jayleine Figueroa My heart wants to be loved, honored, appreciated, wanted, to be forgiving and full of happiness and laughter.

My heart wants to leave and be happy, wanting to spend it with my daughters and my family.

The color of my heart is blue because I think of you any time I see you, my dreams tend to come true.

My heart believes anything and everything you think of will come true.

Tomorrow my heart will be full of joy and laughter and being true.

My heart listens to my heart’s beating, as fast as a drum not knowing if I am going to stop breathing.

My heart clearly sees me finishing and completing this program, and going to a ž house, finding an apartment, going to work. And waking up. Another day clean and sober.

If you can touch my heart you can feel my heart beating for your love.

If I could show you my heart you could see that I am a gentle and loving person trying to find some peace and harmony around me.

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My heart is learning how to let go of all the hurt, suffering and misery that I have been going through and leaving it all behind.

YELLOW Jayleine Figueroa My color I choose was yellow for the sweet bananas my mother cooks in oil, For yellow candy I can suck on ‘cause my throat is dry.

The yellow m&m’s with peanuts that crunch in my mouth.

I like to see the yellow sunflowers in the summer.

I wish I had a yellow cat named Tommy.

I like the yellow nail polish because of the way it shines on my nails.

I like yellow balloons because they pop and it’s the color of luck.

I like yellow paint because it brightens up the room, The yellow rice my mom cooks with ham or pork chops.

Popcorn when I go to the movies, I like honey ‘cause it soothes my throat.

I like taxicabs in Manhattan to get me where I gotta go, I like to feed the birds in the morning to see them eat the kernels of corn.

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MY MIND AND BODY Jayleine Figueroa My mind is Scrambled with all of the things I have to do when I leave.

My body is in pain ‘cause I got the flu shot and it’s tired of going up and down the bunk bed.

My body wants to be massaged, loved, hugged and caressed heavily.

My mind dreams of my daughters, leaving Serendipity and being in a full-sized bed.

Yesterday, my body was tired of being at the hospital practically all afternoon.

Tomorrow my body will be a little better after a long hot steamy shower.

My body listens to the sound of my heart beating.

My mind clearly sees myself leaving and having a new start in life, with people that care about me and love me.

My body remembers how much damage drugs did to my body.

In my mind I keep the closest people to me When my body moves, it says ‘Please get some rest, you’re pushing much too fast to get things done.’

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free of all the bad drugs that were in my system.

My mind and my body are not in danger or in harm’s way any more.

Thanks to my higher power that I pray to everyday.

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UPBRINGING Lois Green Here I am again, the center of all beauty. My beauty comes from within me. Because of my upbringing, today it was so hard to go outside to play and not get dirty. That was hard, but I did it. That’s when my mother told me that I should be at my best because I never knew who I may meet. So I must be at my best at all times, day and night. I am beautiful today and everyday.

BIRTHDAY Lois Green It was my birthday. I just got a cat. I took some pictures of the cat, and after that, I could not find the cat. I looked all over the house. The cat was nowhere to be found so I went to get some water from the refrigerator and there was the cat.

DAYS GONE BY Lois Green Just to have a chance to sit in a park and swing on a swing or buy some ice cream, or just looking at all walks of life is so beautiful. Now I can see that God has given me another chance to do the right things today.

This life I have is one of a kind, I can now say that I do love myself.

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MY HEART Lois Green My heart hurts because of the things in my life – just to know some of the things that I have done to my children and my family. My heart needs to be clean today, to give back to them what God has given to me – that love.

The color of my heart today is clear because I can see what’s good for me. My heart dreams of getting back on track with my self and not going back.

Yesterday, my heart was going so fast because I had just seen something that was so beautiful. Tomorrow my heart will be with God and always it listens to God. My heart can see there all my bad times.

If you can touch my heart you will feel some pain and happier times. You would see that I am good and not that bad, and now, my heart beats on and on.

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SHADOW Lorraine Holloway Today as I sit here, wondering what the world is doing, I stop, Look up in the sky and there is a Shadow or thing that makes me wonder again, Is this how the world is going to be?

Like the shadow in the sky floating by, floating by.

Tell me: what is the world going to be like?

A shadow in the sky?

BRIGHTNESS Lorraine Holloway Today, I went outside and walked to the bus stop. The bus came, so I decided to go for a ride. The sun was so bright and warm that my jacket came off on the bus. The sky was bright and clear. The wind went through my hair. It was a sunny day, and every day will be sunny.

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MY HEART Lorraine Holloway At the moment, my heart is closed, as the blood runs through it in vain.

It goes flow, floater, fail.

It cold.

So cold that I don’t know if it’s my heart, or a dream, As I lay here in my bed, Thinking how my heart is beating faster and fast.

It’s the sound of rain on my window pane.

LOVE IS Lorraine Holloway Love is me Love is my children Love is being respected Love tastes like a bowl of cherries Love is Love is smell like a flower Love is peace Love is The color of love is white Like purity in heaven Love is like a puppy Love is not the devil My heart is beat fast Spirit flowering by laying in bed It would be a rose Sound like music My soul on fire.

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LOVE IS Taharra Jinna Love is when someone feels for someone special.

Love is kissing someone passionate.

Love tastes like chocolate-covered strawberries.

Love smells like pretty roses.

The color of love is rainbow. It is a lot of beautiful colors.

If love was an animal, it would be a black leopard.

Love is not painful.

If love knocks on the door, you embrace it.

Love dreams of someone special.

Love feels like a butterfly.

If love was a flower, it would be roses.

Love sounds like music.

Love is love.

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I REMEMBER Taharra Jinna I remember. The love we share.

I remember. Dream that came true.

I remember. Having a baby boy and a girl.

I remember. Kissing his eyes.

I remember. Seeing him live.

I remember. The sun turning to darkness.

I remember.

MY HEART Taharra Jinna My heart listens to your heart beat Now I clearly see your face My heart remembers your beauty If you can touch my heart you will feel my love intertwining.

If I can show you my heart you can see us together, holding hands.

My heart is yours to keep.

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ACCEPTING, HEALING, PROTECTED Karyn Ragland Accepting change is so hard to do.

Healing hands will protect you.

Protected from the world and accepting who.

Healing our families is what we need to do.

Accepting life healing hands and protect the world together we stand.

YES I CAN Karyn Ragland Yes, I can walk through the muck and mire again.

Yes, I can be born again.

Yes, I can be a mother again.

Yes, I can love again.

Yes, I can breathe again.

Yes, I can smile and laugh again.

Yes, I can be strong again.

Yes, I can begin again.

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MY MOM Karyn Ragland She was the kind of woman that had style and grace And was always laced.

She was the kind of woman that gave you hell When you rung her bell.

She was the kind of woman that didn’t settle for less Because she deserved the best.

She was the kind of woman that talked with ease That brought you to your knees.

She was the kind of woman that prayed with grace Until she was brought to her resting place She was the kind of woman that smiled with no haste Every time she saw your face.

She was the kind of woman that smiles and makes you calm, If you see that woman, that’s my Mom.

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TIME TO BE FREE, TIME TO BE REAL Karyn Ragland Time to be free, time to be real, Time to tell what you really feel.

Time to be free, time to be real, Time to stay clean and that’s the deal.

Time to be free, time to be real, Time to love myself, and that’s no spiel.

Time to be free, time to be real, Time to plan your life and be still.

Time to be free, time to be real, Time to give your heart with free will.

Time to be free, time to be real, It’s time to sit and do God’s will.

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PHOTOGRAPH Clare Tricoche My twin and cousin were with my grandmother that day.

We were on the Staten Island ferry in the middle of the ocean.

We were all dressed like little sailors.

A feeling of love and warmth.

I ASKED MY MOTHER Clare Tricoche I asked my mother what should I do I asked my mother why was she blue I asked my mother which way should I go I asked my mother how do I flow I asked my mother why was she crying I asked my mother if she was dying I asked my mother to watch over me I asked my mother to always remember me.

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BLUE Clare Tricoche Blue, Blue, My world is blue.

Not necessarily sad, bad or mad.

Just in between, ‘cause I’m not mean.

Blue, Blue, That is not new, Blue, Blue, My world is blue, Blue is my world and I’m Not new, Blue is my world And I’m just too thru.

SIX WORDS Clare Tricoche I lived, I loved, I learned.

I kissed, I cried, I healed.

I met, I loved, I lost.

I cared, I shared, I dared!

MY FUTURE Clare Tricoche My future is what I make of it My future is for me to decide My future starts with a dream My future is to go upstream My future, you cannot see My future is up to me!

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A TYPICAL MORNING Stacy Wagner A typical morning filled with sleepy-eyed memories of unfinished dreams.

Coffee first thing, the dog wants to go out – a walk through the park.

A kiss As my man leaves for work, The new day ahead, Phone rings as a load of laundry begins.

THE ORANGE SUN RAYS Stacy Wagner The orange sun rays Will they follow me when I go?

Will they heal me when I stay?

Will they ever need me too?

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BLUE Stacy Wagner Blue, beauty and freedom in the sky Soaring to peace and calm Strength and rebirth of life Forever.

SHE WAS THE KIND OF WOMAN Stacy Wagner She was the kind of woman who dreamed of life more than she lived it.

She was the kind of woman who remembered happier times without the bitterness one would have expected.

She was the kind of woman who gave until there was no more left to give.

Then, she became the kind of woman she always promised herself she would be.

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ROGER Beverly Williams My first son His name is Roger I named him after my father Oh what a happy baby born out of love for his father.

His legs were bow and fat and chucky, he looked like a china doll, with long, thick lashes.

He very rarely cried.

I tried to circumvent his every move.

I always had his milk ready and clean diapers too Always smelling fresh like baby powder.

Oh to hear him coo!

And so, he grew up and became quite a man.

Someone I’ve often felt I knew.

EYEBROWS Beverly Williams Having to use an eyebrow pencil annoys me no end.

It’s like having to brush your teeth, except now I have to be artistic, first thing in the morning.

What ever happened to my eyebrows anyway?

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BLUE Beverly Williams Blue the sky, the water and you.

Sometimes yes, you’ve made me feel blue.

I think of the horizon, the flowers, and magical powers.

The ocean, the fish, and then there was you.

In blue jeans and eating jelly beans – the ones that were blue.

Only the ones that were blue.

MY HEART Beverly Williams 1. My heart aches sometimes when I’m in the midst of my fears.

2. My heart wants more and more love 3.

My heart dreams - in fact daydreams - about a stranger who learns to love.

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Yesterday my heart belonged to another.

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Tomorrow, my heart will be waiting yet again, for love.

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My heart listens to my desires.

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My heart clearly sees hope and another tomorrow.

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My heart remembers when love was new.

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If you could touch my heart, you’d feel all my loves and lovers.

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If I could show you my heart, you would see the pain it has survived.

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Again, my heart still wants more and more love.

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BANGLES Roohi Choudhry Ammi’s bangles jingle-jangle along Her brown arms.

Her purple, magenta, lavender Sleeves edge over them, But cannot hide their gold luster From peeping through.

Her bangles are the relief Of a cool hand on my fevered forehead.

They are the glint of a glass of water At mid-afternoon.

Bangles that clink and slink down her wrist As she cups her palm at the base of her jaw, And inclines her head to listen after school.

Her bangles glisten under soapy water, Making rainbows in our kitchen sink.

Now my days are quiet without their clatter.

My eyes dimmer without their light.

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Nerys Arias Aleathea Brown Roohi Choudhry Florence Connors Jayleine Figueroa Lois Green Lorraine Hollows Taharra Jinna Karyn Ragland Clare Tricoche Stacy Wagner Beverly Williams

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