Tornado

A dream wide awake

What I want to be

What I could be

What I am

The doubts are many

Yet the kernel shines bright

In that dark cave of doubts

The flickering light of being who I am

In a world gone deaf

I am sounding the gongs

In a world gone blind

I am the rising sun

It sounds fanciful

Thinking of gongs and sun

I never considered myself the star

Rather the quiet placid lake 

Yet even in the lake

The sun and the stars see themselves

Even in the lake

Lies life and adventures untold

So now I rise again

To show the world

I am meant to be

Just the way I am

A dream wide awake

Of waking the world

With my actions and my mind

With my heart and my light

In a world that isn’t mute

I am silently standing tall

I do not need the cacophony

For I am the tornado.

By Angela Vincent Michael

February 7th 2021 @ 10.07p

Father

 He invites her home

With darkness in his heart

She walks home holding his hand

Trust in every step

A heart beats under her heart

Two trusting one

The one whose heart is black

Corroded by hate and misguided pride

Hoping for help

She struggles against the pain

Blacking in and out

She reaches out to the bleak hearted one

What motivates the black one

Hate for his own child

Hate for the child of his child

Is hate greater than love?

The heart beat under hers stops

Her mother wails in the other room

The child who trusted

No longer trusts in her own

My heart heavy

I hope for justice

Yet even that doesn’t prevail

The black hearted one walks free

With blood staining his hands

Invisible drops littering the path

As he walks away from the law

While she looks on invisible on the sides

Where is God?

The redeemer, the just one

She screams for his justice

Against the one who was unjust to her child

The black hearted one

Stands proud with his community

No remorse on his face

Yet his heart trembles

The darkness remembers

The hand of his child in his

The smile in her eyes for him

The ones that looked soulless now

Shards pierce through

Of her wails and screams

Of him buying her ice cream

How could he steel his heart to her?

The facade suddenly crumbles

The adrenaline fades away

He has nothing to hold

Not her hand nor her tears

The child in her may forgive

But the mother in her, never will

The man in him repents not his actions

The father in him broken, beaten down

Evil comes in many forms

Thoughts, actions, words

From strangers and from family

Hidden, cloaked behind a smile

The daughter holds her child

Invisible for eternity

She stands next to her father

Shadowing him with her justice forever...

Shackles

Bound by the shackles of life

I roam my prison

Wall to wall

Dragging my chains behind me

Finding a window near the ceiling

I stand on my bleeding toes

To catch a glimpse of the sky

Blue and clear, grey and clouded

What I would give

To catch a raindrop on my tongue

Yet all I can taste

is the blood and salt from my lips

I yearn to be free

Wild like the horses

Running in the meadows

I yearn to be free

My master comes in

Cracking the whip

I yearn to be free

Away from this pain

I yearn to be free

Like the elephants in India

Wild and triumphant

Conquering everything in its path 

Yet when I awake

My vision is hazy and red

Every drop reminding me

Every clank reminding me

I am bound

By the shackles of life

By the rules of men and minds

By chains that clank

I yearn to be free

My soul clear like crystalline

My choices mine to keep

My mind awake and sound.

By Angela Vincent Michael

July 23rd 2020

Who makes these rules
Of what I should be,
Could be, would be
Of things I can and cannot do

Who makes these rules
Of what I can become
Where I should go or shouldn’t

Shan’t Can’t Won’t
Words that bog us down
Words that somehow drive us
Either to prove or disprove

My heartbeat quicken unnaturally
It’s galloping away at the thought
Of doing something I shouldn’t
Couldn’t wouldn’t mustn’t

Is this how every person
Who ever fought against inequality face
Is this how every person
Who had to demand their rights felt

I know I am blessed
To be in the midst of
Equality equanimity and equity
Beyond what exists in other places

Yet even here exists
The couldn’t shouldn’t mustn’t
For male and female
For child and adult

Some legal
Some logical
Some psychological
Some physiological

My ramblings
in the middle of the night
Unclear about my statement
Yet fierce in its voice

- Angela Vincent Michael

Words in my mind :)

Words jumbled together
No hierarchy exists
Chaos reigns supreme
In my mind today

Words strung together
Like pearls on a string
Peaceful and serene
In my mind today

Words restless and free
Like a balloon in the sky
Wild and anxious
In my mind today

Words tethered and tangled
Like a cow in a barn
Demanding to be free
In my mind today

Words sleepy and tired
Like a child after play
Mumbling and murmuring
In my mind today

- Jan 9th 2020

I miss home today, in its most essential form. It partly has to do with memories of family and growing up. I never thought I would find one place that could find its way into my heart as home. I have traveled all my life, home became my family, not the house, not the place, not my friends. Home, now, is still my family, my children, this place we built our life together. Yet home also is the one where I went from being a child to becoming a young woman. Toronto and Baltimore have a special place in my heart. Tonight, I miss those homes - the snowclad streets of TO as I fought through TTC stops and puffy winter jackets, warm Timmy’s dates with my sister and long walks with my mom. I miss Baltimore, the hustle and bustle of Homewood campus, my first ever apartment, walks to cold stone creamery with my friends, and my long rambling evenings lost in the Barnes and Noble. I don’t know if I miss the times gone by, the people or the places. I know that when I revisit those places, my heart literally freezes trying to rewind all those memories. I have to remind myself those were good times, this here now is a great time and the future will be phenomenal as well. Sometimes it works, sometimes I feel anxious like I am trying to convince myself but failing miserably. I never had a yen to revisit those places I lived in as a child, but these two towns call to my soul like only one other place. The third place which calls to my soul when I am away for more than a week...my home with my husband and kids in DFW. Home. Blessed. 

Deluge

My life seems to be caught in a vortex
I am spinning out of control
Yet I can’t make it stop
My love my blessings all caught up in it
While I watch the tears fly away from my eyes

Divine intervention about now
Would be wonderful
A show of power and love
To make me understand the Almighty
While I drown in a deluge of rain

Impending Storm

A storm is coming
I can smell it in the air
Turbulent clouds all around
Grey pink black and blue

The sun is hiding out today
Scurrying begins the dark clouds
A storm is coming
I can smell it in the air

My chest feels tight
The words stuck somewhere
Anger hurt love mad
All mixed around inside me

A storm is coming today
I can feel it within me
Words tears emotions high
A torrential outpouring coming through

Rain drops fall down my sill
Thunder and lightning sizzle nearby
A storm is coming today
I can see it all around me

A flash of lightning
Something is on fire
I smell the smoke and hear the sirens
I hope everyone’s safe

Soon it’s calm again
I see dark skies
The lightning and rain are almost gone
The storm has made its way

I’m waiting for the sun to rise
For the clouds to transition out
The storm is gone
Inside and out...

By
Angela Archana Vincent @ 9.11p on 10/27

Untitled

I don’t know what I want to say today. Words form my world, words I read, words I say, words I type. Yet today my words seem to be failing me. 7 years ago, when my world came to standstill words were my salvation. I wrote letters to my daughter like a maniac, staring into her isolate, holding her tiny hand, my words were my respite. I have never shared those words with another soul, not even completely with my husband. They are for her only, when she is old enough to understand. Almost 13yrs ago, when another rock came hurling at my family, I turned to words. Yet today, my words fail me. Perhaps this poetry will soothe my soul for tonight....

It feels like a craving
A heady rush
The need debilitating 
Yet indescribable 

How do I explain my angst
To those that turn deaf
I don’t want riches
I merely want words

Life feels incomplete
Even as I jump and twirl
I laugh with abandon
Yet inside I feel alone

Part of the joy of giving
Is seeing others happy
I am not like the giving tree
Ready to burn down till I am no more

How do I balance
Me and my world
Every time I try
I get pushed back some more

Hope is eternal
A woman’s strength is too
No matter what faces me
I will forge through...

My will is not iron
It is pliable yet strong
I focus on my world
My will is to survive

Each step ahead
A tiny measure of confidence
No matter what lies ahead
I lead chin up and straight ahead..

- Angela A Vincent
@4.38p Sep 30

Being a millennial Mom

I’ve read about the helicopter parent, the tiger parent and even the trophy parent (considers their kids trophies for photo-ops), but I haven’t read about being a millennial mom. Add in a preemie mom, special needs mom, crazy south Asian working mom and you have a pretty wacky mix ☺️ Being a millennial mom, in my mind, signifies a challenge of dealing with the mobile technology revolution, video game crazies, academic achievements and old world traditions.

When I talk to my friends from South Asia or the new age parents (is that the right word?), they tend to prefer the old world traditions. They don’t seem to want any of the millennial and gen x, y, etc influences on their kiddos. They always talk about the good old days. My perspective is different and hopefully not unique - I grew up in a world with no internet, old school phones. I spent my teens figuring out technology, most of which we use today. I love some of the things we did back in the day  growing up and I adore the convenience and challenges afforded to me by technological advances.

I want my children to embrace technology and the knowledge and skills it offers yet be aware and tread carefully among the virtual land mines. It is a tricky balance but is it really different than dealing with real world land mines? How do you teach your children to be aware of stranger danger, be kind to other children, trust their instincts? Aren’t those the same skills you would teach them in this new era as well? Being an ostrich and wanting the old world isn’t going to make my kids reality go away. In fact it may alienate them, so I embrace it with caution.

Honestly, I use the same approach when it comes to healthcare and technology. Technological advancement in healthcare and evidence based research enabled the possibility of a micropreemie child the chance at survival and wonderful outcomes. My daughter changed my entire perception of the world and my role in it with her arrival as a micropreemie. I embrace healthcare and technological advancements because of her. Someone somewhere believed in the possibility, and I am eternally grateful for them. When she was a newborn, everyone from the docs and nurses to family and friends (well meaning) would give me stats of survival and positive outcomes. My question was always the same, I do not care what the outcomes and possibilities of all the general population, I only care about this one child and her outcome. So, parenting ideologies are varied, but all I care about is what is the correct balance that will give my children the best outcomes.

New beginnings..

Yesterday felt like a new beginning, not from the perspective of any major achievements, purely because I came back to blogging after an eternity (or so it seems).

Isn’t it funny when you go back in time and can revisit old memories or perhaps the old you? I was doing that earlier today. I revisited some of my old blog posts, and feel happy revisiting the old me. As a mom, working woman and wife, basically as I grow older, I’ve moved away from the confident independent young woman into someone else. I like the maturity of thought that I have grown into, yet the concept of concerning myself with others opinion (less of me, more of my family) is new to me.

Late last year, I went to a high school friend’s wedding. It was the first time I had travelled alone for a personal reason without my family since my daughter was born. Her birth and journey deserve its own post, but it changed my perspective completely. It was honestly liberating to be with people who knew me even before I became a self assured young woman. These folks knew me when I was the nerd at school, the person crazy about Maths and read books all the time. I didn’t realize that you can miss parts of yourself - it’s less about the memories and more about who I was. I’ve been on a quest to revisit and reaffirm parts of my self from before. I don’t think the intent is to ever go away from the current me, but I needed to connect with my history so that I can realign those memories with my current world view. Today, I read about memory formation and memory redevelopment, perhaps it is my own venture into memory redevelopment :)

Once step at a time... Thanks for reading my words today 💕

Lazy Circles...

My words have always been my salvation, yet for years now I have held back. I am busy in the roles I have chosen to play, actually roles I have embraced as girlfriend, wife, mom and daughter. The transition at times have been smooth like the waves leaving the shore, yet at time feel rough like choppy waves on a craggy rockface. I am not super mom or super woman. I struggle with life, with my daily choices. Being a woman is hard, mom, working mom, stay at home mom, wife, daughter, daughter in law, and the list goes on. The balance of life feels like insurmountable like a mountain ready to swallow me whole and spit out nothing. I wish there was some gyaani working mom t give me life lessons on patience, acceptance, tolerance. My mom always told me, A you should be more patient. I wish I was..

The truth is that there is no universal touchstone to being balanced in your life. Neither is it a destination you reach and stay for the rest of your lives. My balance is chaos some days, it’s recognizing that it may not even be in sight for a few days or months. Balance may be the knowledge of holding your spouse’s hand for a few minutes or rocking your children to sleep. Why do we expect every day, every, minute, every interaction to be thoughtful or peaceful?

I am struggling with my balance today, yet there is no major chaos in my life at work or home. Have you ever been on the beach, looked out at the horizon, the tiny dots of boats or ships and thought “wow they must have a beautiful life”? Yet consider that person’s view - they may be appreciating the view, struggling to earn their livelihood or be on a trip to run from a stressful life. Perspectives are important.

Mine today is a little skewed. I feel like there are major changes coming upon me and mine, but I am not clear about the intent or outcome. When B was in the NICU, every day felt like this. Hope was alive, mainly thanks to my husband and mom and friends. Yet, terror and a lack of knowledge are the bane of my existence. I wonder how other women negotiate this? I wonder how other moms, working moms comba5 this feeling?

Simplicity

Set adrift in a pool of melancholy
Greys greens and blue
Myriad like the ocean floor
Swarm to envelop me

City light fade in and out
The radio buzzes like a fly
The drone distracting
Nothing but a passing fancy

Deep slumberous thoughts
Awaken like a monster
Black and cavernous
Obliterating all light

The pinks and purples of the night sky
A beautiful flower with shades of night
Darkness taking over the beauty
My inside reflected outside

Reflections colors emotions
Thoughts feelings multitude
Simplicity is my preference
Yet simple is not an option for all

By
Angela Vincent @ 7.32p on 10/20/17

My warrior

A tiny heartbeat
Before she was born
Under my heart
And she stole my heart

A team in disray
Scrambling to bring her safe
They ask us the question
Do you want us to save this child?

A moment etched in my mind
Think about what it means
Your child’s life is on a hold
Waiting for your yes or no

We had no qualms
No hesitation with a yes
Even as they swarmed in
Along with uncertainty and terror

She is a fighter
A warrior
Our princess
More than that, she is our miracle...

Years have passed
She fights through it all
Therapies, doctors, specialists
School, hospitalizations, everything

She does it with a smile
A trusting heart
And a flair for art
I love her passion, her knowledge, just her.

We are back again
In the hospital
Thanks to mr.bug and preemie lungs
I would trade anything
For her to be spared

The team is amazed
At how far she has come
I am too
But I hurt when she does

There is no single truth
That defines all our children
My son and daughter are like night and day
Yet each is a miracle in their own right

Prayers and faith I believe in
Our clinical team I trust in
My husband is my touchstone
One day at a time, we move forward

Many do not trust in my story
They are not witness to a miracle, you see
My child, my warrior princess
She is real and she will slay.

Momma’s instinct
is a thing rumored
before I had my children
Now it’s honed in fires
So I trust in it forever.

No end to this story as yet
Writing helps me heal
I love the strong women in my life
who inspire me on how to be strong for her.

- By Angela Vincent
6.57am on Oct11th as I sit by my daughter’s bed in the hospital.

Midnight Ramblings

Hazy clouds drift by
Shrouding my face tonight
Thoughts flit by
Every second tonight

I wonder where I lost myself
In the sea of life
The one I was I no longer am
Yet I crave the feel of me...

Scarred battle worn by life
I feel not the blood or sores
Some visible some invisible
I prepare myself for more

Is this what life is meant to be?
The life I dreamt as a kid
Dreams feel weary and false
What happened to the thread of life?

My silver lining
My rainbows and gold
My babies fast asleep
Snuggling while I stay out cold

Words come easy to me
My words my view
It's been a long time
Since I've given them the freedom so...

Why did I stop?
Why do I start?
I know not the answer to..
Yet glad I am that
My words are stripping free..

Gold and brown
Pink and blues
Colors I see around
Calm and strength
My choice I made for me

stars on canvas

Stars on Canvas

tiny flecks of light

shining far above

a temptresses beckoning

her true love

i reach my hands out

when i see them dropping

becoming bright stars

falling from the night sky

their light white and warm

tempting me with their heat

so close yet so far

forever just beyond my grasp

they fall like droplets

onto my canvas

brilliant colors shining true

clear against the pitch black

i felt their warmth

the hope of catching it alive

yet seeing the beauty on my canvas

leaves a hole in my heart

i wonder why it hurts to think

about what did not happen

when the dream of the next star shower

opens up unending possibilities...

By

Angela A. Vincent

5/26/11 5.50pm

A voice for the victims..

Memories..

Memories are funny
sometimes they are beautiful
like pearls on a delicate string
sometimes they are transient
like the ripple in a pond

memories are interesting
sometimes they make us reflect on past actions
like light on the polished edge of a pebble
sometimes they make us wonder
like a child seeing their first firefly

memories are fascinating
sometimes they are wonderful
like the night sky lit with moonbeams
sometimes they make us cry
like our world is falling apart

memories are fulfilling
sometimes they lead to silent tears
like raindrops on a cloudless night
sometimes they help us relive our favorite moments
like the time spent plaiting my grandmother's hair :)

regardless of how we get there
or where they take us
our memories define our actions
they tell us who we were, who we are
and even where we may be headed next...

By,
Angela Archana Vincent

Elections...

Elections usually elicit a feeling of neutral boredom among young adults. If you analyze the voters in any modern day elections, we usually notice that the majority are baby-boomers, mostly male (especially in the developing countries)..In the US, President Obama's election campaign was characterized by an organized focus on reaching out to minorities, women and young adults..As they approach the mid-term elections, all the public surveys are focused on what the public thinks and feels about specific issues that will cause the voting results to 'turn'..however, in all the humdrum we forget the basics..the right to vote..why is it important for any citizen in any country to exercise that right?

I was waiting at my optometrist's office the other day and ended up reading an article about the women who fought for the right to vote..these women suffered, they were tortured and beaten because they demanded the right to vote..this suffering did not occur in an obscure third world country..they occurred right here at home in the US and it occurred only about a 100 years ago..their struggle and beliefs formed the foundation for every American woman's right to vote. On Aug. 26, 1920, the Susan B. Anthony Amendment became law, and 20 million American women won the right to vote. Almost 90 years to the exact date, I wonder how many young American women even recognize the importance of this right.

I do not mean to imply by any means that only American women are faced with this challenge. Citizens of all countries across this world take their rights for granted. We celebrate our independence days with gusto, we watch the national and local elections keenly, yet rarely if ever do we go and vote - exercise our right and duty to select our leaders. Granted in some countries, voting is such a miserable process that you may feel disheartened to even consider going to vote. Yet, isn't the mere action of non-voting similar to illegal voting practices?

My first reaction when I read the article about the Iron-Jawed Angels was anger on their behalf, and pride in their strength. Yet, I couldn't hide from the fact that I have never voted in any local or national elections. As I spout my indignation at women for not appreciating their freedom to vote, I recognize that I have been a party to that same mistake.

The story of these iron jawed angels has pushed me towards the first step of fulfilling my rights as a citizen - exercising my right to vote. This right and story is not meant to motivate only other women to vote, all the men and women need to recognize the challenges their predecessors faced to build a country where you have the freedom and the right to vote.

a new year...

the sound of splashing woke me up
I peeked outside and saw the kids
lounging by the pool, young and care free
their laughter and splashing, my alarm today

a honeybee flies past my nose
its bzz sound pesky to my ear
until i saw it sitting on the rose bush
the perfect start to spring and summer

my neighbors were up
i heard their puppy yelping
as i wave to them over the fence
i hear the sizzle of their grill

families and friends get together
to celebrate life and its seasons
the arrival of summer
and the departure of winter..

a new season is here again
a new year is here again
another one to enjoy and adore
full of blessings for us to explore..