the second phase of creation

your creations become something altogether different
once you expose them to air.
they oxidize
if you will
like blue blood turns red
when it breaches the skin
or reel of film blooms
in a dark room.
when your inner life is brought
to the light of day you are no longer
in control of what
it will become.

it no longer belongs to you.

you have relinquished ownership.

suddenly
it belongs to everyone
& transforms into something
unrecognizable.
it is natural to fear this process
if we consider the act of creation sufficient
in an of itself
but the truth is this is only
the first step.
we must have a sacred space 
to expose our beloved creations
to the light so they may become
what they were meant to be.
they must enter the second phase: 
surrender.
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will

i prayed
& asked ‘what am i to do’–

She gave me a stone
in my chest firm
& undeniable.

She said

I give you your will.
your will is yours
& yours alone--
in Me
you know where to go
for I have taught you
to read maps
I have taught you
navigation.
isn't this why
you are called here, after all?
for no matter where you go
you have your own will to return to.
it will not waver
in storm or sea
it will not tumble 
to the four winds
it will not be shaken
by the cares of the world.
listen to your truth.
don't you know
the music of its voice by now?
hasn't the world shown you hunger?

haven't you scavenged for morsels
the forests deep and dark--
haven't you slaked your thirst
in the cold waters within?

dear dreamer

the world needs its story-tellers
dreamers
lovers
wordsmiths
artsmiths
quiet helpers
kindness-doers
flower-pickers
letter-senders

creators of all sorts
walks
shapes
& sizes.

If you are one of these
yield to yourself
& the creativity that lives
in you--

do not hold out the world.

for it needs your gifts
it needs your love
it is thirsty for your joy.

youth

to be young 
is a frightening thing.
it means coming up against 
all the darkest
things of life:
death
loss
grief
loneliness
despair
before you’ve had the chance
to understand what they mean.
it means facing certain facts:
the ones you love most 
you must someday let go;
you will never be the child
you once were;
nor are you likely to become
what you once dreamed of being.
it means staring into your remaining years
as an unfathomable abyss
& fearing what change
what loss of current circumstance
may take place therein.
it means realizing that: 
the words you least want to listen to
are those you most need to hear;
joy and loss
are in fact one and the same;
your tears are the bridge
between your most treasured moments
& the knowledge of their impermanence;
all things of this world will fade
& clinging to them cannot prolong the inevitable;
running away only brings you closer
to the thing from which you run;
& the only way for pain to end
is to feel it as deeply as you can
for as long as it wishes to be felt.

instinct

when birds sing
are they aware of their audience?

or do they simply sing
because they know they must?

be the bird you hear through your window
who doesn’t know you’re listening.

sing
not because someone is listening
but because you know you must.

you never know whose ears your song will reach
& you may never find out.

perhaps it is better that way.

choice

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.

mercy

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?