i am tired, Lord.
hold on.
hold on for what?
for Me.
i don’t know that i can…
you can; you have.
i am tired, Lord.
I know; hold on.
conscious life
humanity
.
why are we
in such a hurry –
always –
to leave,
to fix,
to judge,
to eat,
to “live”?
.
what is the origin
of the discomfort
to truly lean in,
to listen,
to stay,
to sit,
to be Still
in commUnity?
.
Alas, the contradictions
of a splintered humanity –
we say we crave
companionship,
that we are
profoundly lonely,
yet we tend to
scatter soon after we Gather.
we seem to be able
to contain only so much
life,
love,
time,
energy,
words,
presence,
silence.
.
why?
We Fall Down
I forget –
often –
just how much I am privileged
and blessed,
allowing The Darkness to rise
and My Light to then subside.
Ironically,
gratitude never ceases,
it remains steadfast,
knowing this resurrected Shadow shall too pass.
Surrendering,
I will remember:
we fall down,
become lost,
and are –
eventually –
re-found.
Letting go,
I slowly begin to dissolve
that desperate,
terribly frightened façade.
Breathing deeply
and in-tentionally,
re-leasing lineages of conditioning
and very old stories,
the tight knots
in heart and belly
begin to relax,
they unwind.
I return –
once again –
to some humble
Presence of mind.
I Am…
I am
as God
created
Me.
The part
that is
Eternity.
The true Me,
not the one
confined to
this body
nor defined by
human imagery
and idolatry.
Rather,
I am free
formless in
my essence;
a Spirit–
in
of not
this world-
no beginning
nor end.
Just playing
at it
again
and
again.
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.
Monday
It is Monday,
a blank page,
a clean slate.
The day to exfoliate,
slough off the old skin,
the things that weigh down
and only deaden.
It is Monday,
the start of a new week,
bringing with it
opportunities to seek
the Light and beauty
in all we meet.
It is Monday,
a day of reflection
to answer the questions
for self-manifestation.
We ponder in silence
asking our God for His Guidance.
My Lord,
what to sow?
who to know?
when to go?
where to grow?
why so slow?
It is Monday,
the time to do over
to try again
for that four-leaf clover.
Another chance
to alter one’s circumstance,
to self-enhance
and awake from long trance.
Penetration
What does it take
to penetrate
the walls you make
for protection’s sake?
How do I get
to you
into you
through you?
What am I to do?
I come,
you run;
I confide,
you hide;
I offer space,
you then hesitate.
What does it take
to penetrate
your mind
your heart
your body
your soul?
How to release
some of that control
to which you hold
as if it is gold?
A body so tight,
a mind attuned to fight
or flight.
Yet, underneath,
I see a spirit
seeking an invite,
desperate for a way out.
When you are ready
to let me in,
to be the feminine
to my masculine,
I’ll come running.
When you are
no longer so scared,
I’ll be there.
When your mighty walls
finally
crumble and fall,
I offer myself
at our beck and call.
Stone Beach
A new treat,
this here, Stone Beach.
Butterflies,
Dragonflies.
With a gentle sweet high,
I am kissing
the brilliant
baby blue sky.
Seagulls,
Marigolds.
I am embraced by the sea’s
gentle pull.
Driftwood,
Seashells.
I fall deeply into
water’s seductive spell.
Inhaling deeply,
I take in the air’s
musky salinity,
mix it with Earth’s grassy femininity.
Senses heightened,
I hear the waves,
my ancestors guiding me
from the grave.
I feel the wind
nibble my skin,
tempering
the sun’s bite and sting.
A Spirit
to me
suddenly
begins to sing.
Inspiration heralding
the birth of another offspring.
The Rainbow
Caught a piece of the rainbow today.
When did such a sight
last come my way?
Cannot recall;
surely I must have been
quite small.
Just as a child,
I now stared wide-eyed
at the pronounced colors
against the stark gray
of the moist sky.
My wonderment I could not disguise!
What a sight:
The Light, One Love
splitting into its many shades above.
So mystical,
the rainbow;
Magical, this great spectacle;
A harbinger of a brighter future.
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.
