Mixed emotions,
my relationship with Red–
the color of
sensuality and menstruation-
of sin and punishment-
as I was taught.
Red did not hide-
neither docile nor shy.
Red, to me,
embodied extroversion-
loud and insufferable!
Beginning,
in the latter chapter of life,
to warm to Red some-
to appreciate her contours
and taste her complexity.
She’s beckoning me, Red–
an invitation to finally
stand
firmly
in my Power.
“It’s always been there,”
Red says.
purpose
Holding Space
holding space
resonates for me
deeper than
simply taking up space.
giver,
an easier fit than that of
receiver.
a calling to serve
with me since birth.
compelled to leave an imprint
to help make our world a little
better and kinder;
to mirror back to people
their best self, their good seeds
offering that which was not
always reflected to me.
And so, I hold space,
co-creating an expansive
and porous container-
a Welcome mat
a soft place to breathe,
to grow, to change.
A space that also
expands and contracts-
as intimate as the womb or a cocoon
and as wide as the night’s sky-
whatever the healing yearns for,
I hold The Space.
Penni
Dear Penni,
do re-member
Who You Are!
Do not allow
the scorn and
insecurity
of others
diminish Your Light,
trigger self-doubt,
leaving you so stressed
the right side of your face
is trembling,
eyes lowered filling with tears,
posture folded in,
appetite lost,
feeling unappreciated
and misunderstood.
Do re-member
Who You Are!
Our world needs your
shine and smile.
There’s also
a husband
and children
to consider –
your priorities,
above all else –
most especially-
the work
you abhor
that elicits
such a degree
of distress
you can lo longer ignore.
Re-member
Who You Really are-
see You
through You.
The Wall
I hit The Wall
today;
ran right into it –
mind, body and Spirit – splat!
Hit it so hard,
the tears came
tumbling down,
suddenly,
out of seemingly nowhere.
A deluge –
in public no less!
“What is this?” I cried,
trying desperately
to cover and hide.
A rare occurrence
for me-
losing control,
forced to surrender,
pause,
look,
pivot
and reconsider
choices made,
examine
subconscious motivations,
and
the allowance
of subtle intimidation.
The Beat of One’s Own Drums
to march to the beat of
One’s Own Drums,
to imitate no one,
to innovate
from a place of deep faith
and confidence-
such a mandate
is not for
the faint
in Heart.
it takes courage
to be free,
to be the You
that often only You can see,
to be unique, a bit of a mystique
in a world of followers and shamers.
we were made in God’s image,
reflections of The Divine, The Most High
one and onlys are we –
wonderfully crafted
for a specific purpose and time.
the sake of humanity pleads:
spread your considerable wings!
march to the beat of your very own drums!
no need to compete,
there is more than enough room
for everyone.
Artwork: Walking the Line, Edwin Lester @artistedlester
LIFE (scene two)
LIFE
can seem insane.
So many of us are unable
to withstand its pain.
We do our best to live,
to contribute
to a world
constantly changing
and maddening.
Still, through it all
some of us manage not to fall.
Like a seedling
making its way up through concrete,
we spread our wings,
we plant our feet.
We’ve found our place;
we are lauded and celebrated.
But then-
in the blink of an eye,
an “apparent suicide“.
What happened?!
What went wrong?!
Does not success
bring with it sustained happiness?
What of us
for whom no one makes a fuss,
who daily squeeze into an overcrowded bus
to a job that leaves us empty and numb?
If the “extra-ordinary” so regularly succumb,
how then does the “ordinary” overcome?
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation…” Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Change to Save
I will need to change my life
in order to save it.
This I am feeling to my very core.
Don’t know how much more
I can swallow.
I’m walkin’ on thin ice,
on troubled waters that are shallow.
Born an introvert, Quiet is the air I must breathe,
what sustains and maintains me.
Without adequate doses of silence,
I lose pieces,
become untethered,
cannot see a hopeful reality,
begin to question my existence
and that of all humanity.
Why all the noise –
the incessant chatter and mindless banter?
“Y’all gonna make me lose my mind
up in here, up in here.
Y’all gonna make me lose control
up in here, up in here.”
I will need to change my life
in order to save it.
Deprived of silence,
I feel my blood boiling,
heart racing,
hands tremblin’,
mind slipping.
I can taste that bitter, flimsy line
between love and hate;
that soft, raw space
where even the gentlest among us
can suddenly snap
and do things we can never take back.
The Devil isn’t over there-
No, it plays in us all
bidding we follow
and fall-
fall so hard and low,
we can barely stand up.
I will need to change my life,
re-claim it
in order to save it.
Exactly how to do so
overwhelms and scares –
the tide is seemingly so high.
Got to go deep inside,
to The Core
lean only on that which is Truth and pure.
The Commute
I had plans
today.
Plans for adventure
and duty-
all
entailed
The Commute
to The City
on the weekend
when all Hell is loosed
and The Commute
becomes an Intolerable Beast,
affecting me
everywhere –
from head
down to feet!
The relentless rush,
the multitudes of people,
trains disabled.
The smell of urine
and rotten cheese
emanating from homeless humans
with limbs grotesquely diseased-
scratching, sleeping
begging, hustling.
And then
there’s The Noise–
my God –
crashing
repeatedly
angrily
forcefully
into me,
engulfing me
like a seismic sea wave,
driving me crazy,
utterly insane!
I must go deep
inside–
retreat,
hide-
do whatever it takes
to survive
The Commute’s
overwhelming
and exhausting
stimuli
I so desperately hate.
I was not built for this–
no, not me
the sensitive introvert
who thrives
only
in relative silence;
who loves
longs for
peace and quiet.
The older I get
the more intense
is the stress
that The Commute
elicits.
As my threshold
for tolerance
rapidly drops,
the more urgent
the need
for a fresh start-
a new, different Life,
one devoid of The Commute’s
inherent strife.
Pearls from Tears
I remember well my fascination with oysters – rather unattractive on the outside, very rough around the edges. Yet, inside, lay a much sought-after jewel, the pearl. When later I learned that the pearl is the by-product of an irritant entering its sensitive insides, I understood why the oyster so resonated with me. This was me, my life: nothing particularly compelling on the outside – by typical standards – but inside, my heart and my mind, utterly extra-ordinary, beautiful, invaluable and unforgettable.
To this day, I draw my sense of self-worth and place from what lies beneath my skin, that which cannot be seen or felt by most. Alas, residing in a world where the outward appearance is a major determinant of one’s currency and where the attention span continues to rapidly decrease, what place is there for the pearls that lie within? Will anyone pay attention? Does anyone care?
For us, the human oysters, the world’s daily dismissal serves as the irritant; our tears, fodder for the formation of precious pearls. They pile up, the pearls, on our delicate insides, yearning to be seen, worn, to adorn. They were not meant to be stowed away, these iridescent fruits of vulnerability, discomfort and despair. No, they are gifts to be brought to the Light and shared.
And so, with lips quivering, hands trembling and hearts pounding, we take a tentative step, and then another; we open our mouths to speak, softly at first; we pick up our pens and write, allow the pearls to flow out, and then quickly hit send.
Some of what we offer will fall on fertile hearts and minds and be valued; most will be discarded or just plain ignored. No matter. The response is not our responsibility; we are tasked only to release.
Loaded Head
where is my Heart in the Moment?
what does It wish to express?
what needs to come up
to come out,
to be said,
seen,
and lovingly released?
i feel no thing,
which can mean
numbness or peace,
cold apathy
or searing heat.
“just leave Me be!”
The Heart begs,
“focus on this Moment instead.
live outside your loaded head.”
burgeoninc 