spirit

Wake Me when I am Free

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Wake me up when I am free,

I was not crafted

for captivity

born of conformity.

Like a Great Bird in a cage,

I cannot the world engage

in a matter that is authentically

and fully

me.

Instead, this being is muted,

stifled

dead,

of no real use,

head in a noose.

An existence without passion,

no rhyme nor reason

meandering season upon season.

New show, same cast;

all one can do is laugh.

A comedy of errors,

it all seems,

like a relentless bad dream.

And yet…

moments of bliss,

scattered here and there.

Glimpses of deep peace-

no worries, no cares-

as if no skin, one is only air.

Such times,

they are

so utterly delicious,

mightily precious.

Hold on to those

like the world’s most fragrant rose.

A reminder of what is possible,

preferable,

desirable:

Freedom

to be

Me-

who I really am

in service

to a much Higher

Purpose.

To no longer play small,

answering only to a Divine

inner

Call.

Down with the ubiquitous cubicles,

those notorious

killers,

containers

of the Soul!

Please wake me when I am free.

For, I cannot bear the indignity

of any

captivity.

I

Inspiration: Wake me When I am Free–Poem: Tupac Shakur, Music: Babatunde Olatunji

Advent

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A time spent

in deep contemplation,

in preparation

for what God

to the world

sent:

A Love Divine

came from up high

to make fully flesh

The Word;

to demonstrate

prayers are indeed heard

and prophesies fulfilled

as per His time

and perfect will.

Emmanuel-

Hallelujah,

our God dwells

among us all!

Born humbly

in the House of Bread,

He came to save,

to minister,

to transform

the thoughts

the darkness

residing, hiding

in our head,

imploring we chose-

instead-

only Love

only Light

-always

until the end

of our human days.

 

Written all over your Face

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It’s written all over your Face

why you occupy

this space,

in this time.

in this body,

in This Moment

in your-story.

There are no accidents-

such is widely evident.

We are,

each one of us,

called forth,

summoned.

Here,

to re-member

what we really are,

to dispel others’ truths

that became our scars.

Here,

to re-call

our shared humanity,

our One Soul.

 

Artist: Pablo Picasso

Joy in Repetition

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There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in doing it

again and again,

learning to see it

outside and in,

the nuances,

the subtleties-

variations on the

exact

same

theme.

What a pleasure

to be delivered

repeated opportunity

for vision,

to better see

what is true-

what is reality.

Day in,

day out;

year after year,

the same issues

reappear.

They come

looking for resolution,

for final absolution.

There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in the single-minded commitment

to always come back home

to Self

so as to be

of greater service

to everyone else.

Each Other’s Keepers,

we truly are.

All of us,

big, bright Shining Stars.

Alas, we often forget

from whence we came.

As such,

we are wont

to play

dangerous, destructive

games-

veering off our path,

so far, one can only laugh.

But sins are forgiven;

therein we’re saved!

The Joy in Repetition,

a clean slate,

yet another chance

to pivot,

to reevaluate,

to atone,

to return Soul to its Home,

to not stray

and become lost in the daily fray.

The Joy in Repetition,

returning to love

repeatedly

and

consciously;

relentlessly changing

the subliminal scripts,

adjusting to one

that is truth,

the more accurate,

gentler

fit.

Great Joy in Repetition,

a lifetime

of exploration-

digging deeper,

going farther,

climbing ever higher.

Over and over

and over

again-

when does it end?

Perhaps,

only

in Heaven.

 

Circles of Life

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No beginning,

no real end,

around we go

again and again.

No thing is created,

nor ever truly destroyed.

All comes back, newly restored.

We say goodbye,

only to soon again say hi.

The illusion of lost,

it feels so real;

yet, is such a lie.

Bonds are never broken,

no way,

no how.

“‘Tis the truth,” they say,

those who have woken,

who heed the subtle cues

and disorienting déjà vu;

those who can see through and beneath,

well beyond this realm,

who venture down deep,

then back up to tell

the Story of Life,

its circular path

of ash from ash,

of I in you and you in me

and Life’s beautiful infinity.

“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye…until we meet again.” ― Jimi Hendrix

 

 

 

The Children

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20 November 2016,

it is Universal Children’s Day.

And so, I pause

take time

to breathe

to pray.

So much inside,

I want to bring out,

to display-

especially,

given the climate

of our present day,

where our children

are forced a diet

of intolerance and hate.

How do we teach our children well

in this painful realm?

How do we speak of

the rights of the child

when rights in general

appear in such peril?

We can,

indeed we simply must

do

be

better

for the Little Ones

who look up to us

with such innocence,

such tender and abiding

trust.

They are our teachers,

the children we bear,

holding us accountable

for all we say we value,

the principals we purportedly

hold so very near and dear.

Little mirrors,

our children,

the opportunity

to either see

their reality

and respond accordingly-

or ignore,

leave our mess

in their hands

for remedies to explore.

Either the chain continues,

or we

destroy.

 

 

 

 

 

Friday

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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.

God (Chapter One)

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In stillness

is

God.

Nowhere and everywhere

is

God.

Belonging to no one,

yet to everyone

is

God.

Praised and despised

is

God.

Loved and feared

is

God.

Within and without

lives

God.

Savior, Tormentor

Father, Mother

Teacher, Friend

is all

God.

The Alpha,

The Omega,

The Eternal I am,

is

God.

From ash to ash.

from dust to dust,

is

us.

 

 

Prodigal: A Portrait in Words

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The middle child,

the second

in a Girl Tribe

made of three;

born into a

matriarchal family.

She has a

distinct,

special pedigree.

A quintessential

Scorpio, She is

often perceived

aloof,

not so easy to know.

One minute,

She herself

to others

shows;

and the next-

poof–

off She goes,

traveling into

that sublime mind,

not intending

to be cruel and unkind-

unless betrayed

or played,

then out comes

the devastating hand grenades!

Beware of the Scorpio sting,

her bite

her weapon

to protect

her gentle heart,

her sensitive skin.

A relatively quiet Soul,

this one as Prodigal

privately known-

a familial moniker

for this magical

misunderstood

wanderer.

Many secrets

held tight

under her beautiful exterior.

To unlock,

to enter her interior,

sustained trust,

an absolute must!

Once inside,

much and rich

treasures to find-

fierce loyalty,

staunch integrity,

stunning efficiency,

endless creativity.

So blessed am I

to take this life’s journey

with She,

to walk together

hand in hand,

feet to feet!

 

Sculpture by American-born British sculptor Sir Jacob Epstein.

Poem dedicated to my beloved sister, Prodigal – much love and many thanks!

 

Silence

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Ah…

quiet,

absolute,

delicious

silence.

Thank you Lord!

Not a sound,

no one around.

What sweet bliss

is this!

A calm

washes over me,

a deep peace,

one that surpasses

all human understanding.

I am home-

free at last-

miles away from

that urban storm.

Breath,

now comes easily.

The eyes,

they see more clearly.

The heart,

from which inspiration flows,

softens, expands, slows.

The ears sigh,

relieved, they smile.

I feel me

coming back

to me-

returning to love

refilling,

replenishing.

I am me

again!