How badly do I want
deep communion with God?
Can I let go of world-consumption
erase the sin of ingratitude?
How badly do I want
to walk with God
in the cool of the evening
to be fully alone?

My soul refuses to be content
with anything less than God
all else is but illusion in the wind.

I count the blessings
making all moments
into one holy kiss
a joining of spirit
to the Divine.

God whispers my true name
in summer breezes
howling storms
morning bird songs.

Again and again
God calls me with
my truest name:
Loved One
Beloved

A song with a forever
sweet refrain:
my Beloved, My Loved One
My Heart.

I DIDN’T HEAR THEIR CRIES

I hoped and prayed to give birth to a baby
with labor pains and precise breathing, this was my dream.
What happened was science intervention
an emergency C-section, no pain or quick breathing;
I find this to be very sad.

They were lifted out of my being, one at a time
and handed off to the waiting teams to care for their needs.
I laid their on the bed listening to the words being spoken,
praying I would hear the sounds, I was so anxiously hoping.

I laid in silence waiting to be moved
and asked my doctor, “how are my boys?”
In a very compassionate tone he responded, “they are in good hands.”
But doctor, “how could that be, I didn’t hear their cries.”
He looked at me with very sad eyes
and said, “dear we are fighting very hard to save their lives.”

Out of this

quiet prayer came

the strength

to listen to my own

inner knowing

above all else.

It resonated with

the resolve

of the mother in me

who dared to trust

her own body

over every single voice

on earth

and every bit

of conditioning

and advice —

however well meaning

or closely related

or loud the chorus

of voices calling for

her to follow

or believe in

something else over her

own heart

became.

It wasn’t that she

always walked calmly.

There were times when

she just knew

to dig in her heels

and speak

(or scream) her heart —

even though there was

only a slight chance

of being heard.

It hadn’t really been

about being heard

anyway —

but the courage

to be

the peaceful, fiercely

creative and resourceful

being she came here

to be.

It hadn’t been about

being right

or beautiful

or accepted

or…

I am taking myself back. And no, I am not doing this for you. I deserve better. I can take all the pieces of myself that you dropped and find someone who can help me carry them in time. But for now, I am carrying myself.
I am making myself whole.

Although pieces here and there are broken, I promise you they still work. I’ve found that even in the worst moments of pain, you can fix what is broken by believing in yourself.
By believing that there is more to life than just a burned out flame…
There is me. And where there is me, there is a light waiting to be lit. Waiting to be discovered, and waiting to light up someone’s world. As long as I remind myself what is there, I can move forward.
As long as you stay out my life, I can pick up…

I used to feel beautiful, unstoppable, like nothing could stand in my way. I felt like I was worth something and meant something to the people that knew me.

I enjoyed making people laugh, bringing the light to someone’s bad day, and just being there to listen to people that needed someone to hear them.

Then you came along…

You grabbed my entire identity, held it above your head, then grinned as you let it fall and shatter onto the floor in a million pieces.

I dropped to my knees, tried to pick up the pieces, tried to put them back together; you kicked them away with your boot, I looked up at you with pleading eyes, you looked back at me with your ice blue, cold eyes.

We had always had a rocky relationship, always fought, but I never thought you would turn out to be so cruel, heartless…