where does un-certainty
reside in me?
no clarity
here
now.
what color is it,
this tension of un-certainty ?
not sure.
perhaps, butterscotch,
a merging of orange with yellow,
maybe a clue?
the Sacral, to feel,
or solar plexus’ mandate to do?
to only feel
and not to do?
surrender
submerged
feel the body
trans-form
dis-solve
flow
like the sacral waters
re-lease this Soul.
this strange,
sudden
lonely
traumatic
seclusion.
A particularly fierce form of Grace.
All a bit of a blur-
so much has taken place
as revealed by this now wizened face.
Innocence gained and lost
as we endeavor to make the most
of what is truly a Sacred Moment–
a pause, a break, space
for resurrection and metamorphosis.
Who will come of this?
Already feeling familiar pieces
falling away – cannot retrieve them
for there is no going back-
only surrender –
a radical submission,
to humility and a facile generosity
born from the remembrance
of our connectedness
and shared ancestry.
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.
Alas,
how is this suppose to work
now and going forward?
Vulnerability,
the removal of our masks –
invisible and heavy-
had just become
more comfortable
for so many.
Now,
suddenly,
the mask-
sterile and tangible-
has become
mandatory.
A rare treat
to see a naked face
walking down a street.
We’ve become aliens
out of necessity,
orbiting around each other,
getting no closer
to the “stranger”
that six feet.
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.
Tears
for lack of Touch;
Touch
then dissolution to Tears.
So fundamental,
touch;
essential
to our development,
to our humanity.
dissolves protective walls,
loving touch,
transforms fears,
awakens and untethers
The Soul.
Akin to breath,
the gift of touch,
a vital nutrient,
a universal must.
So, how to navigate
this time of
distrust
of all touch?
Pink, blue, violent –
Heart, throat, crown.
How is The Heart
in this Moment?
At rest, at ease, at peace
because It is home –
in quiet, in solitude
immersed in beauty
amidst the sky.
And The Throat
how is it doing
presently?
Somewhat tight,
constricted,
a little sore.
Perhaps because
of words left unsaid,
stuck
with no where to go.
The Crown,
the upper realm of you,
can you feel it?
Is it accessible,
welcoming,
downloadable?
A hearty yes
said with gratitude –
the daily prayer
to be a tool
to be used
accepted.
Photo: jordan-mcdonald-Bzd1qPySNvk-unsplash
it is discouraging
and sad
to me
to see
Human Faces–
half obliterated –
nose, checks, mouth and chin –
well hidden,
swallowed,
by a mask
in the name of
protection.
relenting to fear and paranoid,
we separate,
decide it best not to congregate.
instead
stock, lock and cover up.
there is, of course,
a place for
diligence and precaution.
however,
when does it cross that delicate line,
demolish trust,
become too much,
threaten our humanity
to the point
we forget Faces
and
our inter-dependency?
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.
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
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