anything can be poetry if you're brave enough.
there is only one answer:
surrender.
do not try to outrun it—
you only waste your breath.
do not cover it up—
you only compound it.
there is only one answer:
feel it.
feel it in all its senselessness,
in all its depth and fury.
once you have surrendered
to your one and only master
you are slave to nothing else.
I no longer tolerate poison inside myself.
I no longer tolerate hatred
anxiety
shame
self pity.
This doesn’t mean they won’t overwhelm or attack me.
It means in the middle of the storm, I will hold fast to the Eye that says:
you can do better.
I no longer have patience
for soul-poison.
I am human; it may fool me for a moment.
But it will not claim me.
I will be tested. Again & again.
I don’t know how I will make it.
That’s okay. I’ll start there.
I’ll start with “I don’t know”
& give the rest up to Spirit
so that when something comes along that is not of my Divine nature,
I will recognize it.
People may not understand.
That’s the hardest part.
Keeping my Spirit under lock & key
helps me feel safe around others.
I seek to release the fear
of what they will think–
of my refusal
to settle for less
than the glory we were made for.
Now, instead of approval
I will seek soul-fire.
when is enough
enough?
when do you pick yourself up off the floor
kiss each broken piece with a new mother's tenderness
and promise to put yourself back together?
from whence comes that moment of grace
when clarity splits the atoms of your understanding
and you realize who you are?
what if
you are
a ragged block
of stone
throughout which
are woven
thousands
of nerve endings
and life
chips away
with her
iron chisel
& each time
hurts
a little more
but
in the end
you are
a masterpiece
this is how it’s supposed to be.
you’re supposed to be begging
for mercy.
your knees should ache from kneeling
& your chest should be heavy
with the weight of it all.
if you don’t fall to your knees now
& then, swearing up and down
you can’t take it any more—
how can you know the limits
of your own heart?
& if you don’t cry out
for forgiveness
all the while hoping in secret
that your folly can continue—
how do you know what it is
to be humbled?
the truth is contained in your weeping.
you will be in some form of discomfort every moment of your life
of that you may be certain.
& sometimes discomfort gives way to pain & pain to grief
& you will pray because other than death
there is no place to go for relief.
but notice as you weep how sweet
is the sound of a loved one’s voice
or the vision of their memory
in your heart.
feel the sweetness when the right music
matches the cadence of your sorrow
or the delight in your bones
when a single word offers comfort.
yes
of pain you may be certain
but be certain also
of the remedy of Spirit.
they go hand in hand
it cannot be otherwise.
face to face with the sky 