It’s been nearly two years since I’ve been in front of a microphone. My choice to leave the poetry spotlight wasn’t intentional. The process of finalizing my divorce and exhaustion of protecting my children and my heart from a world that has been difficult to walk through in brown skin, left me uninspired. I happily watched the open mic movement in my area explode as it should during these times, but didn’t see me in the crowd. I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to go out after a long day of working and managing a household alone. I hadn’t been writing and no one was reaching out to me, so I quietly walked away and focused on the novel I had been writing over the past ten years. It felt almost like a retirement. I had reconciled this cycle as a permanent thing. I published the CD, I published the book, I did the poetry readings, I hit my personal milestones. I now see as many past lovers Meta memories cascading through my Facebook page, on my phone or in other people’s feeds. Great memories of the days when I was on fire and hitting every open mic, sometimes featuring as Toni Love was growing into a name known at least locally. I was complacent and happy to watch, support and admire the new poets from afar.
Then as the leaves changed from bright green to rusty orange, my old love returned. Poetry. I felt it slowly opening the door I had closed for so long. Hovering over my shoulder whispering thoughts and emotions the weight of heartache let settle into my bones. The email from the Mad Poet’s Society of PA landed in my inbox inviting me to place my name on the list of readers for their annual poetry festival. My ego glanced at the words “you have first priority” and joined poetry’s whisper “do it”. So I did. I had no idea what I would read but I replied and was placed on the list of poets chosen to read at the local poetry festival. I had a few months to figure out the details. I refreshed a poem I had never read out loud, and wrote a poem that morning that was inspired by mental health awareness month promotions on social media. My daughter captured my reading and you can check it out via my You Tube channel link below.
In the meantime, I received a request from a Facebook friend to write a poem for her son’s memorial service. During my early years of writing, I would sometimes write poems for close friends as a gift to celebrate a milestone event or even a loved one’s passing, but this would be my first paid commissioned poem. I didn’t know how I could say no to this grieving mother who lost her only son. Again, I had a few months to get it together and find the words. So I interviewed her, read the hundreds of comments left on his Facebook page, took in the photos and eventually found the words and song to celebrate her beloved son. I was nervous as I walked into the funeral parlor filled with more than 150 of his family and friends, even more intimidated reading the program full of the names of incredible, seasoned artists also invited to honor him with music and song. So when it was my time to grace the microphone, I left my glasses in my purse – I can only see what’s near to me – and focused on the words I had written. I read the poem, walked to my seat during the applause, surprised and humbled by the second round of applause and the comments from the crowd as we all exited the service.
I believe the many comparison to Jill Scott was probably more about my big hair and curves, than my singing, but I’ll take it all! The hugs of appreciation from those in attendance and the words of affirmation and adoration of my talent will stay with me for quite some time. It was poetry again, speaking loudly this time saying “no, you are not done with me. Didn’t you hear them say your talent was other-worldly and your words made them cry. Believe them. Believe me. We need you. You need me. We belong together”.
And I went home and cried and loved myself a little bit more and made space in my life for the return of my first love. Welcome back poetry, I’ve missed you too.
~ Love, Toni 💕
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