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.
Prayer
The Long Arm of Slavery
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…
Waking from a Deep Sleep
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.
The Wave
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!
America
“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
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!
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.”
FREEDOM
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.
Some Where Deep Within
Don’t-
yet-
know my true histories:
African
Haitian
American.
Thus, this iteration of Life
is a bit of a mystery
to me.
Not certain where I am going
‘cause I know not where I’ve been.
Still,
plates are shifting
somewhere deep within,
resulting in a tsunami without.
Mighty waves
ripping at my skin-
shredding
shedding.
Left naked and raw,
drenched in the miraculous,
I am
re-created
to some other form:
a new being steeped in grace
and a deep peace
born of the confidence
in its Divine Service.
A clarity in vision
that bears a great conviction;
A fire-
this time-
on the inside
that one cannot hide,
nor its mission be denied.
“Do you know what you are? You are a manuscript of a divine letter. You are a mirror reflecting a noble face. This universe is not outside of you. Look inside yourself; everything that you want, you are already that.” ― Jalaluddin Rumi
Quiet
For those of us who crave Quiet,
who suckle on silence as if it were Mother’s milk,
in every moment,
a trade must be made,
a resultant price paid:
do we the “self” isolate
or do we “other” engage?
The latter can feel like flagellation
when the Quiet Soul
has reached
its social limitation –
that tipping point,
the point of no and diminishing return,
where absolute quiet
is all one yearns-
gasping for it as if a fish out of water,
the mind in an uproar –
all chaos and disorder.
But then…
the consequence
of a life lived largely withdrawn,
where solitude is the norm:
a nagging,
disconcerting
loneliness settles down,
deep into them dry bones-
a thick film
centuries old,
sending gentle warnings to the Quiet Soul
that this human form
was crafted
to be ever
connected.
burgeoninc 