where is my Heart in the Moment?
what does It wish to express?
what needs to come up
to come out,
to be said,
seen,
and lovingly released?
i feel no thing,
which can mean
numbness or peace,
cold apathy
or searing heat.
“just leave Me be!”
The Heart begs,
“focus on this Moment instead.
live outside your loaded head.”
Twelve months,
fifty-two weeks
three hundred sixty-five days,
eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours,
five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes–
gone
over
done.
A door is closing,
another is opening.
A time for reflection,
a clean slate.
Lessons learned,
goals to re-make.
We know what was
and wonder as to what will be.
What will spill over
from last year to this?
What and who will give way,
create space
for something
new
unexpected
completely transformative?
A mystery, the New Year;
seems to come sooner and sooner
with each passing year-
little time to catch one’s breath
before it’s on to the next!
Perhaps, a good thing,
this perceived speed
with which the years roll by-
less thinking
and worrying,
more being
and accepting.
What will be, will be.
We cannot control
what is destiny.
On the cusp
of a New Year,
we set intentions
and then
humbly
release them,
surrendering all;
taking it
breath by deep breath
minute by precious minute.
Living
fully
in every moment as
hours grow into days,
days become weeks,
weeks give way to months.
And
suddenly
we begin again
and anew.
A Line–
like a Life–
can go anywhere.
It can go up or down,
remain straight,
or around and around
like a labyrinth
in which
one at first feels lost
then found.
Molecular memory,
this may inform
the long arm of slavery.
The past
reaching relentlessly
into the future.
Those who were once deemed “master”
carry the seeds of feeling superior-
better than those they enslaved:
the men shackled and emasculated;
the women relegated to nannies and maids,
their dark bodies laid open
to cavalierly invade.
Trauma being made
on and in both sides;
a slow
imperceptible
suicide.
When will we finally realize…
I am
waking
from a deep sleep,
wondering
Where am I?
What is it
I had to eat?
How did I get here
to these beliefs?
I rub my eyes
as I try
to make sense
of what has become complete nonsense.
I hear the ancestors cry;
they ask why?
Why are you and your kin moving back?
Do you not realize this is a slap
in the face
to those who were brave?
Don’t allow our sacrifice and pain
to have been made in utter vain-
wasted blood, sweat, and tears
over the course of hundreds of dark years!
Wake up from your deep sleep,
the antecedents weep.
It is now your turn to learn
that freedom ain’t free;
it is your sacred responsibility
to the past, present and future
family.
i must see myself
as part of The Wave,
not some outlier to be saved
from this swarm of humanity
and its seeming insanity.
to most every body,
this frenzied activity
is really quite ordinary.
though, not to me –
a Soul that craves
tranquility;
the one that runs from the grind,
just trying to find
much less human density.
must do so quickly,
lest risk immediate psychic misery.
“Oh Lord, help me to perceive differently,”
i pray, so that i may longer stay
in the place where i am free,
not enslaved by a trickster ego
playing devious jokes on me!
“O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath-America will be!” Langston Hughes
My country
strives to be
a sweet Land of Liberty,
a Crown of Beauty,
from sea to shining sea-
an example
a beacon
to other countries
and peoples
to witness
the possibility
of beloved community
amidst vast diversity,
of justice
amidst adversity,
of kindness
in the midst of such plenty.
America,
this grand, young experiment
in democracy-
governance
of
for
by
We, The People.
Still struggling with its meaning,
back and forth, we go;
to and fro,
from the high
to the very low.
Another birthday,
America
tentatively celebrates,
expressing gratitude
for what is good.
While also cultivating
a firm commitment
to manifesting
for all
that which is
honorable,
innocent,
hopeful
within the
imperfect,
complex,
uncomfortable
experiment
that gave birth to a nation
of immigrants.
PRAY,
allow God
to show you
His Way,
His Plan,
His Hand.
There’s no need
for you to understand.
Simply surrender
to The Will
of your Creator,
The One who sees
far and wide.
What, then,
is a better guide
to how one lives and thrives
on this journey
called
Life.
Twists and turns,
scars and burns,
new lessons
constantly re-learned.
Such is the stuff
of a Life,
that crooked path of a spirit made flesh.
And so, we humbly relent,
look up, only to the sky
for consistent help.
PRAY.
Listen.
Do only what He says.
Give It away!
For It does not belong to you.
You are but the vessel It flows through.
It chooses you, coming seemingly
out of the blue
to awaken and amuse.
“Give Me away!”
It begs.
“I was not meant to remain hidden in your head,
dormant, because you are afraid.
I come from a place that is nothing but pure.
Hence, no need for you to be insecure.”
All humans yearn to be free;
to manifest our unique destiny;
to be wholly who we were designed to be.
A caged bird loses its melody-
it cannot fly-
let alone sing-
with clipped wings.
What an utter shame,
a sorrowful loss
this game…we play
of a boss,
of another mere human
knowing better than us.
Why do we so easily
give our innate power away;
so often stifle what is inside us
to say?
We all lose
when we chose
captivity
over
creativity;
conformity
in lieu of
individuality.
We are encouraged to be ourselves,
to come out of our protective shells,
then
often
shunned
when a few
do not see
as we do.
Labeled sinner,
we are marked with a scarlet letter-
excommunicated
mutilated
married
raped
shot
subjugated
stoned
burned!
These, it is believed,
is how we learn
to be silent
remain quiet;
stay small
do not stand tall.
What is the threat
that freedom for all
is perceived
to beget?
The shackles
bind
both ways.
What so ever you do to me,
that you do unto thee.
All humans
were meant to be
free.
No matter the costs
or how long,
Spirit will indeed
sing its songs.
burgeoninc 