sadness

chilling

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could not get warm,

could not sleep.

body stiff,

clinging to itself.

mind, racing;

heart, broken. 💔

parricide –

in what state of mind

is such a thing possible?

over and over and over

to rip into the flesh

that bore you,

to hear their cries,

screams,

pleas,

to feel their warm blood,

to witness

Life

leave the forms

from which you came.

chilling.

what we are capable of,

we, humans,

chilling.

the fragility of our psyche,

stunning.

we all walk on delicate ice

internally.

what is considered reality

can –

does –

suddenly

crack!

we fall in

deep,

become frozen.

and there

commit acts

so devastating

they ripple

far and wide. 😢

out of Sight, out of Heart

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I forgot about you,

kidnapped

“living” underground

for years

amid  “strangers”  –

fellow humans

traumatized

traumatizing

using you

as mere means to a bitter end

playing a destructive game

of cat & mouse

in an endless cycle of

tit for tat.

I forgot about you

focused on the thousands

above ground

having their ground

children

lives

shattered to pieces

relentlessly

by the traumatized

traumatizing.

I could see them.

I couldn’t see you.

Out of sight,

Out of Heart,

I learned

about self –

humbled,

horrified,

human.

True Peace

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can there be

True Peace

where there is

no re-pair

after harms

and ruptures,

no amends made,

no truths expressed

nor apologies extended

for sustained reconciliation?

this feels like

seeds being sowed

that may

ultimately reap

more violence

more trauma

more broken 💔 ness

more hatred and

sense-less destruction.

can there ever be

True Peace

where The Feminine voice

is left out,

where Love has been

forgotten

and diplomacy severely

abandoned,

where toxic masculinity

reigns

and unbridled arrogance

pats itself on the back?

how to cultivate

True Peace

in the midst of blatant

inequality,

where tenderness

and care

are nowhere

and domination

is centered?

do we even know what

True Peace

is

any longer?

have we ever?

sacred work

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what is the Sacred Work

I am to do

being

fully

here

now –

tired

grief-strickened

stunned

a tad numbed?

what can I offer

from “my” heArt

to “yours”?

the breath?

mere air?

yes, deep breathing

inhaling,

smelling

like the way of a baby,

taking It all

in and down

to the belly

to the Fire 🔥

hold It there

gently witness

trans-formation.

At the appointed time,

exhale

re-lease

birth

slowly

intentionally

Freshness

something new

something

needed

urgently

now!

This is what

I am

to do.

self-inflicted

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it did not have to be this way

a mass exodus of talent

years of institutional knowledge

drip by drip

drainage of vibrant energy

and future generations

all for what?

an obsession

single mindedness

without inspiration or

proper guidance

no true Leader

on this precarious ship

sailing blind

heading where?

how many more

go overboard

before the wake-up call?

Beauty in The Bleakness

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marveling at the resplendent Peacock 🦚

its extra-ordinary ability to in-gest

poison

and trans-form it into breathtaking, awe-inspiring Beauty.

reminds me of the Lotus 🪷

thriving in bleak

muddy waters 💧

ah, the lessons nature teaches

when we choose to slow down

listen intently,

look up & down & all around carefully,

really lean into

the Totality of Life,

this Moment,

each other.

opportunities abound everywhere

to trans-form the perceived mess and chaos

into gentle medicine for all;

into something vastly different than we’ve ever experienced –

more relevant, courageous, mature, and equitable.

there is unimaginable Beauty in this bleakness.

can you feel it?

death

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out of no where

You come

dis-rupting comfort

and routine

toppling the known

and familiar

altering courses

forcing us

to begin anew

to see and be

different

You cleanse

and re-arrange

twisting us

in-side and

crying out

raising

existential questions

we’d rather run from

You will come

for each and every

one of us

at our appointed time

a surprise

out of

seeming

no where

hunger

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a constant gnawing

deep within

to be fed

and tended to

through The Mouth

that did not know

its mother’s milk

suckled instead

by the middle finger

of its right hand

The Mouth that spoke

not a word

its first few years

now relentlessly demands

food

attention

silence

rarely satiated

riddled with shame

and melancholy

a downward spiral

often begins.

here, now

this time

a long breath

slowly let out

through The Mouth

gentler with the hunger

less intolerance

more patience.

been here before

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this place,

these people,

those words,

that feeling,

been here before.

The Benevolent Universe

slowly closing a door,

ushering in

something unfamiliar

far beyond my

imagination –

another assignment

an opportunity

to learn

to grow

to contribute

and explore

pieces of me

never seen before.

anticipation clasps the hand

of trepidation,

resistance gradually gives way

to acceptance

of a Journey

marked by the continuous

making

and then

the breaking

of bonds.