Submerged!
Buried alive!
your Voice,
your Courage,
your Original Face.
Do not despair.
No one to blame.
Nothing forever lost.
Never to late.
Life has her mysteries,
rhythm,
and timing.
Your Treasure Trove
now recovered,
bring it up –
slowly,
tenderly –
from The Ocean’s Floor.
Open with curiosity,
reclaim
your Voice
your Courage,
your Original Face.
Genius
seems to come
at a very steep price.
Typically,
heavy drugs
for a gifted musician
or
egregious infidelity
for a talented athlete.
Why?
The weight of The Pedestal,
the unrealistic expectations,
the Godlike projections?
Or dizzying fame
borne too quick & too young,
allowing no adequate time
for a stronger foundation?
Always a similar story,
a shared humanity,
the need to escape the anxiety,
that knawing
lethal
relentless
core belief
of innate
unworthiness.
Alas, nowhere to run,
the angst always comes back.
Some heal, eventually learn.
Others, they cannot return.
nervous,
proceed anyway –
breathing,
praying 🙏
hands sweaty, voice trembling,
do it!
that thing
on your Heart
for decades –
perhaps even lifetimes.
the irritant in your Soul
that simply
will not
leave you alone,
begging you
to Rise,
rooted
firmly
in yourself,
your dharma,
your imagination,
in forces far beyond
your comprehension.
buried deep
inside,
a part of self
wishing only
to hide,
preferring to
“live”
a lie.
how to see
it
let alone speak
it–
that,
which altered
a Life.
innocence
forever lost,
a new trajectory
is now forced.
but not
without
a heavy cost.
one can only run
from The Truth
but so far
before it
festers and scars.
An untold story
will travel from life to life,
causing all matters
of angst and strife
until it is
revealed,
brought
finally
to the Light.
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.
What role will I play in The Revolution?
What will my Lord require of me to help bend that long arc of the moral Universe always toward justice?
How will I be asked to repay the debts to those who came before, who took the hits and falls so that I might on their broad, brave shoulders stand – in the moment – free and tall?
To whom much is given, much is required. A government truly for the good of all the people and run by all the people comes at a high cost – the cost of caring, of voting, of marching – of being ever diligent and vigilant, opposing with steadfast love the misguided forces that would hate from the place of fear and darkness cutting through all our human hearts.
What role will we the people play in The Revolution now that the pendulum has swung back, seemingly all the way to the other side and another time – the response to the call for higher love and broader inclusion; the response to the call for pluralism and government visually reflective of its many peoples?
When did we forget our basic tenet that we the people are One – E pluribus Unum? Either we stand together – united, or become completely undone – indeed, extinct – by the misperception that we are not one and must only lookout for number one.
There is no middle moral ground; we can no longer simply stand around, desperately seeking a savior to come down and bear the heat for our collective neglect and defeats.
No, the answers are not out there – never were. The heroes lie on the inside and have thousands of faces. Be still and know that we each have a specific role to play, some piece of the work to claim, an assignment bearing only our name.
May we the people with courage and deep conviction, accept our respective tasks to ensure our beautiful American Experiment lasts, and the freedom for which it always strives remains vibrant and forever alive.
Whoa!
Another week
has passed
so quick,
so fast
at a pace,
I can’t seem to grasp!
One minute, it is Monday-
the thought: how will I last?
The next minute, Friday,
relief, some time to relax!
Bittersweet is
the end of the week.
Some joy,
some pain.
Many questions
remain:
Did I get
what I was to learn?
Did I summon
enough nerve
to truly serve?
Where did I grow?
Where was maturation slowed?
What parts of me
do I transform and release?
Next breath never guaranteed,
nor is any day of next week.
It’s Friday,
the day to savor
the short respite,
to pivot
and change perspective.
Go in,
give in,
make way and waves;
like a voodoo chile
filled with Light and smiles
play and create-
these are the mandates
of
Fridays.
Memories of Me as Child
very rarely
feature
prominently
in my mind.
Sometimes,
a memory
will come
spurred by that
of another One.
Such was the case
recently
when the memory of
a beating came to me.
Perhaps, the worst ever
by my parents
wrought,
the result of me following
my child heart.
An adventuress,
I have always been
from deep within,
yearning to explore my world,
for real life to unfurl.
Such was the case when
at ten years old,
I did something very bold,
against which I’d been sternly told.
I visited the home of a classmate,
Molly was her name.
She had dark hair,
freckles and such seductive flare!
Molly lived in the biggest house I’d ever seen,
just down the road from my apartment building.
Four stories, it stood,
dignified and handsome –
in sharp contrast to the rest of the ‘hood.
Intrigued, curious, in love, I was.
Hence, how could I have declined
Molly’s invitation to come inside?!
Adventure called,
I could not it stall!
A blissful afternoon I spent
while my parents wondered
where their child went.
Alas, all good things must come to an end;
my parents found me at my friend’s.
That evening, I learned
there is a price for authenticity,
that its sweet pleasure is earned.
Fear and anger were unleashed
with every swish
my father’s belt
on my young skin
released.
Though, the physical wounds have since healed,
the memory is sealed,
seared forever into my Soul.
There to one day be told.
Not a story of pity, no!
Rather one of victory
and great resiliency.
For you see,
I am still me
filled with the same boundless curiosity,
in love with Life immensely.
Always will I be,
no matter the external story.
Sculpture: First Portrait of Roma of Barbados, 1932, Jacob Epstein
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.
Walking around
the City streets,
this piece of graffiti
I repeatedly meet.
It reads
to me:
Protect your Heart.
“Why?”
I wonder.
“Is such a thing
even possible?”
I ponder.
Is not
The Heart
meant
to be used,
broken open
and well spent?
Le Cœur,
it will never relent,
nor exhibit
sustained discontent,
doing that
for which
it was sent.
The grand design,
the clear intent
for us to be truly,
in life, content.
Strong and resilient,
The Heart,
also very smart,
crafted this way
from the very start.
Unlike a piece
of rare fine art,
The Heart
is not made
to be placed
on a wall
deemed too delicate
to fall.
No, no, no, no, no!
Not at all!
I contend
to me and friends:
Lay bare,
Le Cœur,
even as scared,
it’ll take you there,
that place,
that divine space
where only
COURage makes.
burgeoninc 