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.
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
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.
Yield
your
Fruit,
just give it all away-
that which you came
here
to do,
to say.
Don that suit
with only your name on it.
Bring that song
you were crafted to sing.
Return to the dust
from whence you came
emptied
-with absolutely
no thing
left within.
Go home utterly spent-
’tis the only way
to live a life content.
Live
Life
Full.
Be
Here
Now.
For, one never knows
when,
how
The Plug
will be pulled.
Tomorrow,
the next breath,
never guaranteed-
from that illusion,
we must all
be freed.
Life is
precious,
precarious.
The human body,
fragile
as it is
miraculous.
Take
no thing,
no one
for granted.
Live
Life
Soft–
surrendered,
empathetic.
there It is:
The Bulge.
on full display;
i cannot seem to
look away,
to focus on the richness
of what he had come
to say.
on The Bulge,
my eyes linger
as my mind wanders:
what does it
look like,
feel like
when released
and fully unleashed?
how tall does it stand?
i imagine its feel
in my hands,
its taste in my mouth
when I’ve made my way down, South.
No!
Will not go nowhere
by going there.
I force my gaze,
my thoughts
way up, North.
we lock eyes-
yikes, I’ve been caught!
eyes, now shut,
i blush.
the heat,
the guilt,
the stench
of shame
rises,
takes a seat,
whispers
familiar recriminations
in my ears.
I just want to disappear!
The Bulge
brought
desperation,
longing,
latent sexuality
to the uncomfortable fore,
much too near…
here come the tears…
shedding-as always-
internally.
The beginning of another chapter,
a different reality, new memories;
a location change, a strange cast of characters
with names and behaviors to learn.
Outside of the comfort zone once again,
the choice to be made to not pretend.
Integrity does not allow one
to play small for very long.
Eventually, one gets woke-
the inside, who you really are
must be expressed,
and unto the world, spoke.
The time does come
when familiarity must succumb.
The price becomes much too high-
either begin anew or slowly die.
The new girl placed on an old block,
what will this journey unlock?
What new skin will it bring?
What songs will it allow
this Soul
to finally sing?
Drenched in gratitude,
humbled by immense Grace,
overwhelmed with benevolence,
truly I tell you:
my cup runneth over!
This softened heart
is about to burst
at the Love demonstrated
by this magnificent Universe!
It just keeps coming-
these perceived blessings-
a torrential downpour.
How much more
can a Soul possibly endure?
I cannot seem to give
as much
at the pace
in which I receive!
Bon Dieu, a moment to breath,
to take it all in please,
to be still and know,
and from there
to make the noise
of unadulterated joy!
My cup runneth over,
vision shifts:
there is no mere
coincidence.
No accident
is this largesse.
To whom much is given,
where Life has been very kind
even more is arisen
within that human mind:
how best to demonstrate gratitude?
how to cultivate the fortitude
to sustain faith
when the same cup
is filled only
with empty space?
it comes relatively easily,
that which is fated.
the steps run smoothly
as if actions in an incredulous movie!
one feels as if riding a powerful wave
toward that thing God long ago named;
this place He slated
for you alone,
to grow, to blossom, to come into your own.
“this is your path, walk in it,” He declares.
“trust me. do not let your heart be troubled nor scared.”
not all in this life need be a struggle,
an interminable inner fight
to discern where one belongs,
which way is right.
indeed, sometimes a boulder is thrown –
the Universe knowing better
than to reach you with a mere quiet stone.
Urgent, desperate prayers come up constantly to the sky:
“help me!” they all cry.
God cannot do for us
what He cannot do through us.
that we are each other’s keeper –
a remembrance that is sacred, an absolute must.
The call for help
is responded to
by an ever-evolving self
that consciously
with a sense of deep conviction
and moral responsibility
relays relentlessly:
“here I am, Lord, please use me.”
This surrender,
ego placed out of the way,
then renders
the necessary space
for one’s fate
to perfectly navigate.
burgeoninc 