It’s written all over your Face
why you occupy
this space,
in this time.
in this body,
in This Moment
in your-story.
There are no accidents-
such is widely evident.
We are,
each one of us,
called forth,
summoned.
Here,
to re-member
what we really are,
to dispel others’ truths
that became our scars.
Here,
to re-call
our shared humanity,
our One Soul.
Artist: Pablo Picasso
Whoa!
Another week
has passed
so quick,
so fast
at a pace,
I can’t seem to grasp!
One minute, it is Monday-
the thought: how will I last?
The next minute, Friday,
relief, some time to relax!
Bittersweet is
the end of the week.
Some joy,
some pain.
Many questions
remain:
Did I get
what I was to learn?
Did I summon
enough nerve
to truly serve?
Where did I grow?
Where was maturation slowed?
What parts of me
do I transform and release?
Next breath never guaranteed,
nor is any day of next week.
It’s Friday,
the day to savor
the short respite,
to pivot
and change perspective.
Go in,
give in,
make way and waves;
like a voodoo chile
filled with Light and smiles
play and create-
these are the mandates
of
Fridays.
The middle child,
the second
in a Girl Tribe
made of three;
born into a
matriarchal family.
She has a
distinct,
special pedigree.
A quintessential
Scorpio, She is
often perceived
aloof,
not so easy to know.
One minute,
She herself
to others
shows;
and the next-
poof–
off She goes,
traveling into
that sublime mind,
not intending
to be cruel and unkind-
unless betrayed
or played,
then out comes
the devastating hand grenades!
Beware of the Scorpio sting,
her bite
her weapon
to protect
her gentle heart,
her sensitive skin.
A relatively quiet Soul,
this one as Prodigal
privately known-
a familial moniker
for this magical
misunderstood
wanderer.
Many secrets
held tight
under her beautiful exterior.
To unlock,
to enter her interior,
sustained trust,
an absolute must!
Once inside,
much and rich
treasures to find-
fierce loyalty,
staunch integrity,
stunning efficiency,
endless creativity.
So blessed am I
to take this life’s journey
with She,
to walk together
hand in hand,
feet to feet!
Sculpture by American-born British sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein.
Poem dedicated to my beloved sister, Prodigal – much love and many thanks!
I am
as God
created
Me.
The part
that is
Eternity.
The true Me,
not the one
confined to
this body
nor defined by
human imagery
and idolatry.
Rather,
I am free
formless in
my essence;
a Spirit–
in
of not
this world-
no beginning
nor end.
Just playing
at it
again
and
again.
how do I
adequately
describe
what it feels like
inside
when I look
elephant
in the eyes?
It is as if
elephant
is kin,
as if we share
the
exact
same
skin!
My heart flutters,
a sudden
recognition
it utters
at the
sight of
elephant.
My Soul leaps
as it greets
an essential piece
long buried-
very deep.
A sigh of relief;
the end of a subtle grief;
a mystical reunion
is of what I speak
when
elephant
and I
meet.
Have never traveled a straight line,
couldn’t even draw one if I tried.
This life was crafted
crooked and jagged.
No point A neatly to a point B;
more like A to C
then up to Z
and suddenly,
back down
to B.
A dance of seeming spontaneity
created by chosen opportunity.
A restless Soul,
too many interests it holds;
relentlessly driven
to learn, grow and sow;
chasing adventure
so as
for itself
to know.
No desire to live vicariously,
in putting off pleasure
in the name of responsibility.
No, that ain’t me!
I yearn to fly,
to be free,
to self-express fully
with utmost authenticity.
Such a Soul as this
can never happily exist
confined
for a lifetime
within walls
narrow
straight
and tall.
Such an existence
much too small,
into The Abyss,
said Soul
would soon fall.
The first of three girl childs
born of my pop and mum.
I would be the quiet, idealistic one,
the one who dared not stir the pot,
but rather enjoyed observing a lot,
paying particular attention
to the tangible tension
between the sexes
on an almost daily basis.
The women won handily,
ruling the home rather easily.
This all conveyed to me-
directly and
subconsciously-
the strength needed
of a girl child
constantly
to escape vulnerability
within a world
fixated on her sexuality,
rarely her intellectual ability;
a world where girl child’s
heart and brain
are discounted,
deemed second class citizens.
Hence, Girl Child,
either rule or be consumed;
with no apology nor permission,
go for yours or be floored.
No middle ground
here
to be found.
Stand tall,
to a boy child,
never ever
play small, roll over or fall!
Not just for you,
but for all your Sisters too!
Written in honor of the fourth annual International Day of the Girl Child, 11 October 2016
What does it take
to be A Light in the World,
to accept the sacred invitation
to truly make flesh The Word?
A sprawling, often lonely,
task
that will inevitably
ask
the removal of all human
masks.
There’s no hiding,
only faithfully abiding;
Seeing the world
differently;
expanding consciousness to foreign
possibilities,
such as loving all brothers
unconditionally.
One will need to forgive,
to always relieve grievances.
No space for judgment and blame,
for pettiness and thoughts criminally insane.
Only the remembrance that we are all
fundamentally
the same.
A formidable call
to be A Light in The World,
to sow seeds of peace
in the Minds of the All.
Not for the faint-hearted, this role.
Indeed, many flounder and fall,
the ones who think themselves insignificant
and very small,
who know not how
to stand erect and tall.
Much is given to A Light in the World.
This path, once chosen,
one does not walk alone.
Vision, wisdom and extraordinary might,
all bequeathed to A Light,
all needed to keep up the human fight
that rages
within and without
day and night.
A Light
ultimately
returns home, to Love
remembers its function
is guided
only
by things holy and Above.
The next incarnation of Me,
I foresee
three darling babies
to whom
I am
doting, dutiful mommy.
Each said man-child
from my womb
shall come,
manifestations
of a long-held covenant
finally
exhumed.
In this other Life,
to an extraordinary Soul,
I will serve many roles:
His first lover,
babies’ mother,
forever friend and wife.
A beautiful home
together we build,
me and my boys,
filled with the Love and Light
we pray and persistently will-
cups so runneth over
that unto the world
our joy spills.
burgeoninc 