Love Speaks

Love took the shape of a Woman ---
a Sister-friend.
Love spoke when She spoke.
Love comforted when She comforted.
Love nurtured.
Through Her, because of Her,
Love nestled me.
Love filled my lungs;
She gave me life.
My Sister-Woman saw me,
affirming that Love sees.
She brought gifts for my soul,
and Love broke its vow of silence
with audible and gracious power.
They, She and Love, She with Love,
Love in She, revived me.
And I will be forever grateful...

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Dear Sara. I love you.

Of Men & Kings

"The people of Israel asked for a king,
and they got Saul."
He laughed his big, beautiful laugh
and reminded her of David and Solomon.
She thought it over for a moment.
"David murdered Uriah and took his wife."
"He was also a man after God's own heart."
"Damn." she thought to herself,
"That is David's trademark."
"The desire for a king is rejection of God."
"Kings, for better or worse, are merely men.
They are not gods,
and you are not a biblical figure."
"I know that, but..."
He interjected. "But what?"
He laughed. She conceded,
finally done drawing parallels...
You see?
She is emotion.
He is black and white.
His speech is aesthetic.
She's most beautiful when she writes.
She is catch-as-catch-can.
He is steadiness and sense.
She is quirks and uncertainties.
He is acceptance and non-ambiguity.
She is norms and rigidity.
He is openness and fluidity.
Their conversations are quests,
each confirming what she knew
from the moment he spoke.
He is equal parts man and king.

Happy Thanksgiving

If the level of gratitude I have were charted on a daily basis, the results would be sporadic. They would not show consistency of attitude or character. They would not show positive trends. The result, embarrassed as I am to admit, would prove just how ungrateful I can be and often am.

Though it is not my intention to project, I cannot imagine this is only true for me.

These days we hear a lot about living best lives / blessed lives. We see the photographic evidence via social media. We expend time, energy, and resources and do our damndest to have the best/blessed life or the perception thereof.

And, it takes all of that (time, energy, and resources) because, for many of us, the best/blessed life is based on accomplishments, acquirements, and accumulations. It is directly tied to the level of happiness we FEEL. It has a direct impact on the gratitude we experience. "I do not feel happy" often translates to "I am not grateful." It is our challenge as mindful beings to divorce happiness and gratitude.

At this point, I will move from "we" and "our" back to "I" and "my." (For the sake of transparency and  accountability, I have to own it.) Right now, this Thanksgiving Day 2018, I am not amid my best life. I feel the pressure of change, obligations, and expectations. I feel the weight of decision-making. I feel the fear of failure. None of that makes me feel good. And, I am a self-interested, indulgent human, I love to feel good. 

When it comes to the practice of gratitude, "I feel" gets in the way. It is the sporadic, emotional, ever-changing part. We are tasked to focus on "I am." There are always quality, consistent,  positive "I am" truths available to each of us. 

I am breathing. (Thank You.)
I am living. (Thank You.)
I am loved. (Thank You.)
I am resilient. (Thank You.)
I am capable. (Thank You.)
I am growing. (Thank You.)
I am changing. (Thank You.)
I am here. (Thank You.)

(Thank You! 😁 They so easily become prayers or expressions of gratitude.)

We lose stuff. Situations and fortunes are subject to change. Sadly, we lose people to death and life. (Yes, we lose people to life as relationships run their courses.) "I have," like "I feel," is subject to change. Loss and gain, like happiness and unhappiness, are unreliable foundations for gratitude.

Today, no matter where you find yourself on the best life / best life spectrum, regardless of how you feel, in love, I offer you this.

You are breathing.
You are living.
You are loved.
You are resilient.
You are capable
You are growing.
You are changing.
You are here.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Folklore

I find a way to believe the impossible. I coax myself fallible, hoping for conclusions unlikely to occur, imagining conversations unlikely to be held, and clinging to characters unlikely to stay. In the face of sure heartbreak, utter devastation, and inevitable loss, I conjure alternate endings as if I can will our version of happily ever after.

I Am Not Your Kechia

Docile. Passive.
Damn unhappy.
Inauthentic. Pretenses.
Deep in depression.
Maimed tongue. Broken toes.
A mind muddled and controlled.
Mental wars. Internal hells.
At odds with every part of self.
Am I changing for the worst?
Because I speak my mind?
Because I publicly curse?
Because my patience for shit is tissue thin?
Because I like girls and live in sin?
Because I question my beliefs?
Because I now fight like hell for me?
Keep your opinions and admonitions.
Keep your praise and criticism.
Hold fast to your disappointment.
I will not be your Kechia ever again.

Cured: Algophobic Masochist Part III

Today, I lost my shit because I thought of you. Your very presence in my mental space caused an upheaval. I panicked. "Fuck! What if I'm not over him?" I questioned myself. It has been two years since I saw your face, but only 9 months, 29 days since I realized we could never revive our decay. On April 13th 2017 I finally accepted there was no possibility for health and wholeness and us. I chose the former. In relative sanity, I find it unbelievable that there was actual deliberation. Part of me wanted to choose us. Thankfully, self-preservation presided. I once deemed myself an Algophobic Masochist and you a Roadblock in my path, stubborn and immovable. Thankfully, Perspective is fluid, and Experience still reigns supreme. You cleared my way when I powered from inner-strength. I rejected that fear and pain when I committed to self-love. Ha! It just occurred to me: "I am okay. I will be okay! 'I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before I’ll ever reach for you again.'" 

Written 02/10/18, Posted 11/10/18

Lost & Looted

"Don't be so dark. Find your happy place." You assume my desire  is to connect with light, but there are few things as beautiful, mysterious, and alluring as night. So let me linger here. Let me conquer this fear. Let me find clarity in this space. Please let me be brave. As I wander through the darkness exploring its depths, I find the pieces of me, lost and looted, and I gather myself.

Written 01/27/18, Posted 11/03/18

Dreaming III

Alone with Pain & Frustration,
unable to verbalize my thoughts
or process what I was feeling,
I sat at the edge of Lunacy
before falling asleep at Sorrow's bank.
You must have felt me.
We must still be interconnected.
How else would you have known
to meet here at the very moment
I succumbed?
How else would you have known
to bring hugs and apologies
and Comfort?
How would you have known
to say "Keep living. It gets better?"
I was fading without warning.
You saved me again.
I arose with Contentment
to make peace with Love.
We, survivors, must empathize
with one another,
and Love, too,
has withstood arduous pain.

Written 02/14/18, Posted 11/03/18

Dreaming II

He said "It was a dream. everything is okay," but I lied in bed uneasy, mind racing, wide awake. "What the fuck am I trying to process?" The unspoken question monopolized my head. Desultory, hazy images do not frightened me, but I am alarmed by my chaotic subconscious, aberrant desires, and fuzzy memories.

Written 01/27/18, Posted 11/03/18

Dreaming I

I am often jolted awake. Sweaty and panicked, I charge my brain, as if it is a separate entity. "Why the fuck would you think any of that was okay?" I try to make sense of the plots, images, and characters. I hope there is no reason. I know it lacks rhyme. I note what I can remember. I pray my dreams are nonsensical and my nightmares are not prophetic. I busy myself back to stillness and eventual sleep.