Another year
I am granted
to celebrate
my mother
on her birthday!
How many more
chances
will I be blessed
to hear her voice
on her special day;
to see her
physically
in front of me,
not just in a
picture,
a snapshot
of a long ago moment,
or in vague memory.
Family
Two Friends
Two Friends
on a beach
walking,
talking,
planning,
dreaming,
birthing
their visions
into existence.
One Friend,
compelled by her Soul’s necessity;
The Other,
moved by an insatiable curiosity.
Both,
desiring to leave behind
an indelible legacy-
to inspire,
empower,
unleash creativity;
to free the masses
from contraction and boredom
by en-couraging
expansion and freedom!
These two friends
on that beach
were destined to meet,
brought together
by old friends
now deceased.
The story continues
until it is
complete.
The Children
20 November 2016,
it is Universal Children’s Day.
And so, I pause
take time
to breathe
to pray.
So much inside,
I want to bring out,
to display-
especially,
given the climate
of our present day,
where our children
are forced a diet
of intolerance and hate.
How do we teach our children well
in this painful realm?
How do we speak of
the rights of the child
when rights in general
appear in such peril?
We can,
indeed we simply must
do
be
better
for the Little Ones
who look up to us
with such innocence,
such tender and abiding
trust.
They are our teachers,
the children we bear,
holding us accountable
for all we say we value,
the principals we purportedly
hold so very near and dear.
Little mirrors,
our children,
the opportunity
to either see
their reality
and respond accordingly-
or ignore,
leave our mess
in their hands
for remedies to explore.
Either the chain continues,
or we
destroy.
Prodigal: A Portrait in Words
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!
Memories of the Child
Memories of Me as Child
very rarely
feature
prominently
in my mind.
Sometimes,
a memory
will come
spurred by that
of another One.
Such was the case
recently
when the memory of
a beating came to me.
Perhaps, the worst ever
by my parents
wrought,
the result of me following
my child heart.
An adventuress,
I have always been
from deep within,
yearning to explore my world,
for real life to unfurl.
Such was the case when
at ten years old,
I did something very bold,
against which I’d been sternly told.
I visited the home of a classmate,
Molly was her name.
She had dark hair,
freckles and such seductive flare!
Molly lived in the biggest house I’d ever seen,
just down the road from my apartment building.
Four stories, it stood,
dignified and handsome –
in sharp contrast to the rest of the ‘hood.
Intrigued, curious, in love, I was.
Hence, how could I have declined
Molly’s invitation to come inside?!
Adventure called,
I could not it stall!
A blissful afternoon I spent
while my parents wondered
where their child went.
Alas, all good things must come to an end;
my parents found me at my friend’s.
That evening, I learned
there is a price for authenticity,
that its sweet pleasure is earned.
Fear and anger were unleashed
with every swish
my father’s belt
on my young skin
released.
Though, the physical wounds have since healed,
the memory is sealed,
seared forever into my Soul.
There to one day be told.
Not a story of pity, no!
Rather one of victory
and great resiliency.
For you see,
I am still me
filled with the same boundless curiosity,
in love with Life immensely.
Always will I be,
no matter the external story.
Sculpture: First Portrait of Roma of Barbados, 1932, Jacob Epstein
Elephant
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.
Another Life: Dream One
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.
Eleven Years
On the sixth day in the month of September of the year 2005:
A cell phone rings.
“It is your father,”
says the somber mother
to the busy daughter.
“He has been taken
to hospital…a stroke.”
Eleven years ago,
my Pop transitioned;
he left body
and went to Heaven.
One is never prepared for death-
especially that of a parent.
You know it will come eventually,
makes sense intellectually;
a matter to run from emotionally.
The day before he was to die,
he kept calling my cell line.
Over and over, he tried.
too tired and busy was I.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,”
I thought, fully justified;
not knowing he would not then
be alive.
Did Pop sense
his time had come?
Is there something he needed to tell
his eldest one?
What did I miss in
missing his call?
Did he go
thinking
I cared not at all?
Along with grief,
from guilt I found little relief.
Over and over,
in my mind,
I wrestled with my use of time.
Questioned my responsibilities:
Were they aligned with my priorities?
Eleven years later,
older,
a tad wiser,
I can begin
to myself forgive.
We do our best
in the moments we live.
Perfection, not the final goal.
Missteps, falls –
a part of it all.
Lessons learned
in his life and death-
Thank you Father!
No more regrets.
Blue
what you say about Blue
is really a reflection of you.
what you think about her,
a mere child, another’s daughter,
only reveals
your mind’s fodder.
it’s all about you,
Beloved,
never “the other.”
about the lens
through which
you see
your world
and your brother.
look deep within,
my Friend,
see finally
the depths of
your own self-hatred.
bring up to Light,
the memories,
tragedies,
stories
against which
you constantly
struggle and fight.
the ones that state softly
with great malignancy
only that
you’re ugly and unworthy.
beware,
going there.
for, ego will be scared.
it will deny,
try to you from yourself hide,
play with your mind,
saying:
“don’t go within,
too much of a burden;
play always on the outside to win.”
alas,
illusion, so easy,
often trumps reality
for many.
brothers, sisters, family –
we must re-member what we truly are:
Shining Stars,
servant spirits on a human journey
born of Him
to fully manifest
only our highest
and very best
Self.
Nothing else.
Sun Salutations
Dawn of a new day-
hooray!
Awake!
Give thanks!
Pray!
As within,
so without.
Morning meditations
strengthen thy House.
No perceived stress felt.
Mind, heart, body –
all aligned,
all in exquisite rest.
Work flows smoothly.
Everything moves so easily.
All that is seen is beauty,
even in this, the
big
busy
City.
No cacophony,
just sweet melodies.
No hurry,
only curiosity.
Frowns turned upside down;
smiles abound.
Gratitude, shared and found.
I see you, you see me.
Namaste,
we are a family!
No self-recrimination,
no regrets;
only admission
one did one’s best.
And so,
the stage is set
for when
dusk is met.
Peaceful sleep
will thee meet
with this day complete.
burgeoninc 