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…
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.
Two Friends
on a beach
walking,
talking,
planning,
dreaming,
birthing
their visions
into existence.
One Friend,
compelled by her Soul’s necessity;
The Other,
moved by an insatiable curiosity.
Both,
desiring to leave behind
an indelible legacy-
to inspire,
empower,
unleash creativity;
to free the masses
from contraction and boredom
by en-couraging
expansion and freedom!
These two friends
on that beach
were destined to meet,
brought together
by old friends
now deceased.
The story continues
until it is
complete.
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!
To most, she is seen as sweet,
angelic and gracious.
To some, she is perceived as bitter,
mischievous, and a tad imperious.
Over there, her presence elicits
captivation and glee!
Here, she is an irksome mystery
from which all wish to quickly flee!
It all depends
on the spectator lens,
the time of day,
the way
the wind bends.
Not about her;
it is simply
a matter
of subjectivity.
She, sensitive in nature,
must re-call
the most challenging agreement
of them all:
Take no thing personally.
“It is not about me,”
she must come to see,
so as to not suffer needlessly,
drowning in an abyss of sheer misery.
To live peacefully,
to walk confidently,
to do righteously,
she must be steeped
only
in He.
“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.
“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” ― C.G. Jung
A bit of a mystery,
this thing called chemistry:
that inexplicable spark,
ignited from the depths of the loins
or Heart,
where connection starts.
The lean in –
straight, no chaser –
is a little closer,
paying careful attention.
Two ships stopping,
not wanting to miss anything.
A stirring on the inside,
butterflies,
a yearning to learn
who resides
on that side;
how songs are played
on that life’s stage.
Chemistry,
no rhyme,
no reason-
simply the right season;
a destiny fulfilled
as per God’s Will.
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.
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 