Category Archives: Perseverance

Impressions

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6

impressions-image

… that carve far deeper than the surface,
drowning all traces of purpose…
Breaths bleed blue ‘til
inflamed passions spill red hues.
Every right to choose, but
the beaten path becomes familiar.
Tragic howls resolve to whimpers
(and we’re all taught – it’s rude
to listen to whispers).
Bitten tongue composes lies.
Broken soul breaches eyes.
Heart struggles to chant its beat,
the sole echo of delayed defeat,
as will still trembles without its pride.
“Alive” comes in many forms:
dormant pulses, social norms,
raging fleshes, and spirit storms,
but, oh, the stench of dead
cuts to the core. The
Dark One’s whores delirious,
stomp their heels of hopelessness;
choke with grips of hatefulness; and
drop their prey into the mist… with
impressions chiseled beneath the breast.
But, the wash flows down deep
with the come up, and the
rise lets new life steep
in love’s cup.
Outlines of “was” take on
shades of rediscovery.
Sketchiness develops into
layers of vibrancy, ‘til
colors of depth reflect the light which
no impression can overcome…
sadly, a realization for only some.
The fisted spoils of the spirit undone
loom in the balance
far too often for far too long, waiting
for an utterance to be heard, praying
for transforming terms to free
the broken story… to see
the allegory… to be
the love that helps the etchings fade.

Taking a Seat

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5

 

Taking a Seat_SareeDreams

Sitting room only.
Everything I stand for fell by the wayside.
Never in this heart, but always in these eyes –
the energies disguising their despising of truth.
Perspective is a ruthless mutha…
navigating minds to give reason to
abuse one another.
One can’t further the cause of another
‘cause good intentions come with a clause;
good for me, doesn’t mean good for you.
Your shade of green colors my shade of blue.
Prosperity gleaning from the stroking of your
superfluous ego leaves the streaming
of my dreaming washed out cold.
Fire smothered by the wet blanket of indifference;
worth diminished in the smugness of knowing;
love stifled through the unraveling of pretense;
hence, the unseemly filtering of
my outward spirit.
There’s simply no justice in it…
ergo, where you go, I cannot.
Hope drips eternal, but it’s a slow leak, and
each time I stand up for it;
some piece of shit blots it out.
I try to widen the spout, but
narrow is the mind of the disbeliever
and cynicism is contagious.
Flying high becomes outrageous…
the longer I pour universal ideology
down the drains of tunnel vision mentality.
The vacuum is full and needs to be emptied,
but thick skins hold firmly to their dust;
sights blink blinded by loose particles bound
to nothingness. And so,
I recline in resolve.
Breath extracted…
Fervor dissolved…
Passion – just a pulse along the small of the
backbone I sink low to rest deep in.
Cradle me tight in this not quite fetal pose,
as I transpose my bearings from my
outcast wearings to the quiet place inside.
Hush you utterings of my soul
into this safe empty space,
which holds my every weight,
at least until I have the
strength to rise again.

 

Photo source: SareeDreams.com

I AM…

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18

Truth revealed through a tender heart
The hands shaping wounds into works of art
Eyes that see beauty in the deepest of flaws
Who gives hope to every hopeless cause
Foundation when everything trembles around
What lifts your spirit when you’ve lost ground
The Rock of Ages in your sinking sands
A quiet still voice against the world’s demands
Maker of ways when there’s no way out
Reason for believing when filled with doubt
The light of salvation when you’ve given up
The end of thirst when you drink from my cup
Everything good beneath your broken view
Love, the Creator, and I dwell within you

This is more than a declaration of my spiritual beliefs. Each statement above represents each individual’s capacity to receive and give and BE love. There is a way to convey truth that isn’t harmful, threatening or hurtful in its delivery and intent. While some express an ease in living in denial or ignorance; this perspective is disingenuous to one’s true being. Truth isn’t always welcome, and it often travels on airs of subjectivity, causing the hearer to tune out. However, whether the hearer is someone else or you, learning to deliver and receive and BE truth is necessary to realizing a life of integrity.

Everyone is wounded. Everyone has hidden parts. Often, we sacrifice the fullness of life by constantly licking those wounds or hiding behind those secret places of hurt and insecurity. Overcoming isn’t about ignoring or forgetting; it’s about learning, reshaping and offering a testimony. What good is any pain if you do not grow from it? What good are your past experiences, if they are not used to help others going through similar trials? The key word being “good”… what “good” can come of the bad you’ve known?

Love is blind. No, it is not! Love sees all, and accepts all for what it is. Yes, we want the best for and of ourselves and those we care about… some of us even want the best for and of the world at large. But let’s be honest, nothing in this life is perfect (whatever perfect means). Criticism reigns within and without on so many levels, as this world dictates a clone mentality… look like this… think like that… measure your being up against the skew of a few. Beautiful is what makes you – YOU. What makes you special… physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually… is that which defines your unique contribution to the universe. Sameness is like listening to an orchestra and hearing only one note.

Who or what is your “go to” when you feel defeated? They say misery loves company. Well, I know nothing draws out darkness like light; it draws it and drowns it with hope and stability, pouring out a reassurance which lets you know that you will survive the sinking ship. Some are blessed to have others in their lives who serve as a rock; others are blessed to be that rock; and, many can only find the source of comfort they need beyond humanity’s angels. If you don’t have a source of uplifting… reach out, because there is ALWAYS someone willing to share joy with another’s heart.

Be still my aching heart. There is holiness in being still, in bringing peace to all the beating impulses of the mind and body. We often want to run, act, react, force, move, control… and in those desires, we lose our center. Rashness and anxiousness take over and master our wills and senses as we stand in defensiveness against the world. But in the stillness… in the calm… in the meditation… in the prayer… in the soothing whisper of a loved one, we can regain composure, perspective and presence. We must remember to carry a stillness within to balance the chaos among us.

Some believe in karma, while others see no consequence. Some believe everything happens for a reason, while others believe in chance. Some believe in free will, while others believe in destiny. Some believe in judgment. Some believe in nothing at all. Most, I think, believe in some combination of these. My faith rests in the guidance and protection of my God, Yahweh, while others define the Creator in other ways, if they, in fact, believe in a Creator. Even for the non-spiritual, however, there has to be a driving force internally or externally which prods one to persevere. Perhaps it is the human condition for them. I know, for me, too many miracles have occurred… too many paths have been uncovered… too many chances have been bestowed… too many tragedies have been survived… too many endings have been avoided… and too many unimaginable blessings have adorned my life for me to not believe in something greater than myself… greater than humanity… greater than this world.

This world confines, speaks doubt and negativity, and finds ways to extinguish the spirit of innocence and altruism. And yet, here we are. You and I, he and she, us and them… constantly fighting to reveal something beautiful, engaging, inspiring, and evolving… something so much more than what exists on the surface of existence. In as much as God is here for me, I am here for you, and you are here for someone else. We are all capable of leading someone else somewhere better; and, through the process, will find ourselves improved.

Everlasting life in His cup… the salvation of His sacrifice… the goodness He creates from our falls and failures… yes, these are my beliefs… my mantras… my “self-talk.” How similar or dissimilar these are from other faiths, I do not know. I do know that LOVE in and of itself is life giving. I do know that sharing LOVE with others is contagious and has brought many souls out of isolation and suffering. I do know that LOVE has seen through the dark, ugly and hateful, and has transformed hardened hearts and vexatious minds into completely new spirits of joy and abundance. I do know the power of LOVE… in God… in myself… and in you.

Challenge for Growth Prompt #5: I Am Love

Soldiering On

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2

soldiering on 1

I am an act of war.
Taking no prisoners behind closed doors,
strewn in the open are my countless scores;
the rises and falls my weapons have bore
Panoramic scenes slow time to a crawl, so
the blink at 360 reveals it all
The fear in your heart is what I’ve been called;
a quake in the veins that crushes your walls

soldiering on 2

With a charge and a clash, I collide with this time;
steel upon will, drawing blood to the line
The dripping tip at the end of my mind…
piercing the soul til the flesh is blind
Fumes consume every breath in the room,
leaving hearts seized in the depth of loves womb
Waiting for the readied, this spirit will loom
and call out the life from the embodied tombs

soldiering on 3

Truth shatters screens to cut through the masks,
setting shadows free from the binds of their pasts
An unfettered journey with the strictest of tasks;
to transform the first and walk with the last.

Wings

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4

Come float upon the breaths which gift the spirit’s flight
Weaving through each finger the feathers of hope’s delight
Knowing not what lies beyond horizon’s reddened light
Still a worthy venture, clawing past despairing night

Flying high on faith, within the broken heart’s cocoon
Landing on the Rock to bask away life’s deepest wounds
Wading in the glory, for every midnight has its moon
Dancing with the story, for every note reveals a rune

Compiling pieces of the journey into a span far and wide
Watching soul begin to soar as all but joy will soon subside
Casting light between all clouds, on these blessed wings I ride
Ensuing peace, for everything a rightful place beneath God’s eyes

For Dungeon Prompts: Using our Words for Spreading Joy

Holding Composition

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15

The Unknown Righteous_Jerusalem Square of Remembrance

Resurrected bits and pieces resist the crumble,

while vices mumble in these halls, leaning

hard against these walls.

And though I’m home,

I feel alone,

listening for answers my heart can’t hold.

These scenes aren’t foreign,

but I am…

not fitting this skin I’m held in;

needing new form and parcel

for this breath of partial

blowing through my frame.

Reaching for fulfilled me,

tripping over empty;

vacant lots where impressions stayed.

Wanting Him to have His way, while

salted sores impose delay;

how can I rinse away these stains

from nature’s stone?

On my own, fighting in faith,

as demolitions swing their fates;

this foundation feels the quake

… something is lost.

But for the cause, I stay awake,

vigilant for watching’s sake; a

lighthouse beaming hopeful refuge

through these eyes.

Unwelcome spies casting shades,

by this prayer eclipses fade;

flailing forms dissipate as dawn comes nigh.

Structure abides for one more ride,

but I confess this space confines

and, with it, time defies me;

pinching corners in the sphere

of my timeless here.

I just want to be –

without then or there or them or he…

free of now’s dichotomy.

Newness in a soul’s rebirth,

dropped face down in yester’s dearth;

how the pressure closes in on will.

And still, I am the pillar rising high,

holding form and sowing life, while

all the holes beneath the worth

keep me tethered to sinking earth.

Teeter

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9

teeter_n2pub_credit

This silly world of ups and downs,
grasping for earth and clouds
in disproportionate measure;
fiening for frivolous work and
intensified pleasures.
Where is the weight of existence
when hearts are heavier than
the feathery disposition of mind-kind?
Man is but thought and flesh,
losing soul in the center,
casting out his Inventor for the
adulteration of both.
Full scope narrows as the
cascading of false joys smother;
tethering one lie to another, and so
we suffocate in the smokescreen
that holds our baited breath.
Drawing in deeply upon the
staleness of – this is all –
and there life falls into the void.
Who is left annoyed by this
emptiness of being, this
looking without seeing, this
thinking without knowing, this
taking without needing, this
acting without feeling?
Treachery is breeding, while
balance flees its cause, leaving
today’s teeter in the shadow
of tomorrow’s cost.

Image credit: n2pub.com

He Laughs

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17

He’s tickled through the seasons…
and I’m the reason.
Sometimes, He laughs so hard, He cries;
especially, when I am wise and
rest assured that tomorrow’s figured out.
What is that about?
He grins;
wiping His eyes from winter’s night
to spring’s daylight,
shaking off all those tears.

But summer bore my soul…
and I’m gifted in this role.
I can talk the talk
and walk the walk, taking
troubles with an easy stride.
Is that right?
He shakes His head;
letting summer’s streak turn up the heat
‘til every feat
feels like scaling the Himalayas.

Now, really, how hard can it be?
Recovery is a breeze…
I’ve fallen hard with autumn’s blow, and
at this age I ought to know just how to
pick up all the pieces and move on.
Oh, girl, come on!
His insides chuckle;
while He watches my knees buckle,
posture truckled
low beneath the changing winds.

I say, “Look, God, let’s get this straight!
Through all your plans, I bear the weight,
weather storms and give you praise;
yet, mysteries compose my days.”
Roaring, sparks and rolling seas…
Well, I’ll be!
He slaps His knee;
catching breath for words with me.
Lovely child, do see…
you project for just one life; I, for eternity.

For Dungeon Prompt: Making God Laugh

Entrusted

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9

What does it matter –

Inheritance scattered,
equality tattered;
who am I to be flattered by this portion I hold?

I sit to keep from falling,
sometimes run from the calling;
if I stand up to the mauling, will I fold?

Whipping out this tape to measure,
scoffing at this so-called treasure;
why not ride out life until the days grow old?

Hands stretched out, feeling about –
no straight line for this account;
how can life amount to more than what unfolds?

Right or wrong, we’re of one song;
each note unequivocally belongs,
as we strum together throngs to form the whole.

Every sound can be laid down
or lifted high with great resound,
only bound by those convictions of the soul.

With deep regard through darkest nights,
search the stars for Heaven’s lights;
embrace birthright for therein shines divinity’s role.

Entrusted by the hand of God,
all lives bear seeds to feed the sod.
Harvest the fruits to spread the love which bore your mold.

For Dungeon Prompt: Myth Making. The life lesson I share is that although we all are granted unequal portions in life, it is our onus to realize our worth through God’s eyes; and in accordance with His living trust for us, multiply and distribute our fruits abundantly for the good of all who dwell in this time and place and beyond.

This Labor

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7

Heart to the grindstone…
There’s no void to fill,
only the struggle of human will.
Levitation is heavy in this
soul-dropping plane of existence.
Beyond any repentance –
the unforgiving gavel of
the daily unravel.
Sizing up situations with the
skins I tailor:
dressing down victories and
dressing up failures, but these
shoes never change.
The tread is long and light.
I wear this fight
in the ease of my stride, while the
bleed of my tears tell me
I’m still alive.
From the gritty beginnings, to the
forums of scholars; from
praying for ends, to the
giving of dollars; from the
shelter of nana and her teachings
of Zion, to the
innocence of love lost in the
dens of the lions…
This rounding out of “here”
drives my spirit to “there” and
I feel, but don’t flinch anymore.
What’s more, my falls don’t sink,
even when death seems like
more than a blink –
I linger in the quiet place,
‘til rise reintroduces itself by grace.
I work hard at this balance;
this artful toil of being present
where my body belongs, but
the rest of me doesn’t.
Lowly peasant teetering
beneath this diadem of glory;
like Hephzibah’s story –
Desolate form lost in this world;
evoking a light only God can unfurl.
Wielding His beacon, as darkness I roam;
this labor of life paves the way to my home.

In response to Dungeon Prompts: Hard Work, What Does It Mean To You?

To me… physical labor, service to others, motherhood, spiritual growth, career development, and living with integrity… are all necessary, valuable, “doable” elements of life. And by “doable” I mean… very manageable for me, without too much difficulty, given my natural inclinations toward each area. The “hard work” comes in when one must balance everything meaningful to one’s life without cracking under the pressure and breaking into pieces of uselessness that no one else can be held accountable for because… well… all the pressure came from myself; my own desire to excel at everything and let no one down. We measure ourselves constantly… in our minds, in our circles, in our societies. We size up our intellect, cleverness, humor, brawn, adeptness, victories, failures, likability, uniqueness, sameness, and so on. Even the lazy have a slothful scale of comparison. No matter how much or how little you do; how much or how little you have; and how much or how little you care, I believe life is contextually challenging. Life itself is the hard work; the adding and subtracting of the relevance and impact of experiences and circumstances through the tunnel vision of human eyes. And for those of us who relish in spiritual elevation; life is all the more intense, but in a peacefully centered way. I have been fortunate enough to walk down many trails in this lifetime. The culmination of societal extremes rests squarely in my mind’s eye and my heart’s understanding; and I would be a lesser person if I didn’t embrace this blessing. So, while I do complain often about the injustice within my bubble… it is only dust babbling. My soul can’t count high enough to tally all the good I have known. I am ever grateful for this labor of life.

The Struggle

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0

How troubles find me in these fields
wrapped in petals, among smothering weeds
Deeply inhaling fresh damp earth, as I
dig deeper to sow these seeds

Like freckles lost in newborn skin,
each blemish quaintly smoothed
This face reflecting every end –
A profile still unmoved

Knowing all a heart can know,
yet seeking so much more
Praying for death as I chase new life
Self-abandoned for the One I adore

Holding steady to a centered peace
while I heel-toe on the ledge
Begging for a safe reprieve, as I’m
drawn closer to the edge

So much lies within these walls
where windows threaten to shatter
Taking cover amid hallowed halls
to escape the earthly chatter

Sirens call out with their charms,
flickering moth to flame
Darkness woos with candied tongue
Now, thoughts are dipped in shame

Herein lies the shifting lever
to this tug-of-war inside
Can compromise buy out my fervor
and gently cloak these eyes?

There is no price that can be paid
to resurrect the Light
But treasures bartered in the lay
intensify the fight

Steadfast is the soul’s one cry
while dust drifts towards the sea
The sun and moon in this spirit lie;
my struggle with humanity

Anniversary

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5

Ten years and counting

since I learned to bleed

Wounds no longer festering

inside this shell of broken dreams

Time redeems the hollowed spaces

while the hand of God replaces

the varicose traces of those imprints on my soul

Embraced in the Whole that gives me freedom

Losing bondage for the Kingdom

Eternity’s gift the day it saw the shackles fall

I will never look the same

a different cause, a different name

The knowing abandoned at the end of my glance

No reflection of your brand upon my heart

just one stroke in the beauty of this art

Now I dance in the comforts of chance

in a world divinely made for me

Thank you for the time you couldn’t spare

for stealing moments of my air

for breaking down all the good I tried to see

So grateful for vacant dinner tables

silence when all was unstable

unheard cries through darkest nights

heartless acts with scornful might

That smothering absence of any heed

whenever my spirit couldn’t breathe

was exactly what I needed to survive

Never was a fall so low until your kind

I came to know and still the rise so

ever high once failure resurrected hope

The scope is immeasurable

this growing into self in spite of self

by way of self’s ability to overcome the impossible

You crushed the innocence of my love while

laying the stepping stones for my ascension

And at least in this dimension I am compelled

to thank you for all the wrongs that fueled

the heaving throng of miseries which freed me

Ten years and counting the ever mounting

sea of blessings which hold my being

in a depth of seeing that guides my path

since the day I walked away from you

The Morning After

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4

Laying here scattered, thoughts tattered
Like a newborn ripped from the womb
Wiggling in this goo of lost comfort
Unable to seize enough air to bellow my angst
Confusion bustles around me
Thoughts run frantic in an
Effort to wipe away fear
Only, it smears instead
This bed does not swaddle my insecurities
No, it illuminates impurities I no longer hide
And I can’t scoff because – I made it
I made it, but I won’t lie in its prickly sheets
I mustn’t, I can’t
But will I…
Eve is already drifting into awakening
Pinching dreams into fruition
Status no longer petitioned, no longer new
This soul doesn’t know how to recant
The scant of its flesh in epic fail
No retake posted, no longer hosted
Culpability envelopes me, tucking me
Tighter into these rags, lower into these throes
Eyes baring secrets I shouldn’t yet know
Essence nude in compromising layers of contemplation
Bartered salvation for sensations I’ve
Already almost forgotten
Those piercings of the night sink in deep
With no space to bleed out in the morn
If I could not save myself in the dark
Who will I be come dawn

Now

by

0

Rain will fall hard
until second wind
hales the hail storm

Broken pieces cry foul
then time out
clueless – the binding agent

Time engulfs itself
turning hands to
the twelfth hour

The leaning tower
loses its bend
and its crumble is spent

Priceless – the cost
a soul tossed
into oblivion

Tomorrow
we’ll breathe again
but for now – take cover

Soul in Mourning

by

0

Breaths drawn strain through constricting reeds;
inhales ache and exhales bleed the unknown.
I become savior, martyr, motivation and devastation
all in one.
He severs the hand of Yah
while reaching for the serpent’s tail,
introducing me to the addict’s living hell.
Life and death weighted
falsely on my shoulders…
a broken heart’s boulder to carry ‘til the end.
Beats of hope in the void,
now his target practice,
are too wounded to pulse for two anymore.
Hours on end of loving him are
sacrificed in blind devotion to the
deception and desperation of his demons.
Sights solely on the spawns of their semen;
he’s chopping down trees of life for no reason.
Truth sprouts open pores which whisper,
I’m yours…
if you maintain.
How ironic,
his creatures are manic and wild,
but it is I who is insane;
holding hands with the universe pulling in vain
to rescue man from adolescence when the
nightmare is his preference.
Chasing unforgiving darkness into a world
hopeless and loveless;
he watches every tear fall pointless
from my shattered olive branch.
Cold winter chill blows hard into my fading garden,
and warmth escapes my nature without pardon.
What is this fatal blow?
Why was this for me to know?
I was not created for this death,
nor prepared for such a loss.
I pray,
Must this be the cost?
Oh God, the burning in my core,
a pain I’ll feel forevermore,
how will I bear the letting go…
the deepest mourning of my soul

Hope

by

0

In the shallow depths of my heart
He allows me to break
To know
That I am nothing
In this world
A fog of emotions
A scurry of thoughts
A mound of failed intentions
Nothing worthy

Into the carved out hollows of my soul
He allows me to fall
To feel
That I am helpless
In this world
A constant winding of anxiety
An ongoing landing of disappointment
An endless outpour of confusion
Nothing powerful

In the steady enfold of His arms
He allows me to breathe
To hope
That I am more
Than this world
A shining light
A humble servant
A rising angel
Something beautiful
Something meaningful
In His eyes