the struggle
is part of
the plan.
Tag: poem
mystery
there is a mystery before us
spread wide in the dome
of the sky
how high--
how high--
hints
sadness contains a kernel
of sweetness;
fear a crumb
of truth;
& anger an ember
lighting the way forward.
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.
monsters
Be at peace
dear child:
the monsters you dream of
you have already met
and your most dreaded fear
you have already faced.
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.
no rules
there are stories
that live
in worlds
without rules
where the telling
need not make sense
where beliefs
have no need for precedent
where the stage
is set with
broad brush strokes
where the laws of physics
need not be observed
& where the important part
isn’t the story itself
but the invisible things
it made you feel
one day you will dance.
it is right for the human spirit to have endured something.
this is why we must not shelter ourselves overmuch.
it is something to have been in distress
yet find yourself undeniably alive.
to have fasted
& find yourself still whole.
to have been panic stricken
yet find your legs standing.
but if by chance they give way beneath you
& you don’t get up for an hour
a day
or even a decade
it doesn’t matter
so long as there is a day that comes
that you dance.
my own grandmother
bedridden
danced under the covers.
victory
rejoice
in your heartache’s
resurfacing.
in that moment
long ago
you had not the strength
to bear the pain
meant to be yours alone
so you hid it away
until
today.
accept the confirmation
of your unconscious
for finally
you have passed the test.
feel it throb in every fiber
& know you will not break.
this has always been
about power—
seize it.
you are the agent
of your own momentum.
the moment you embrace it
& declare “this, i can
abide”—
its hold upon you
will ease.
all this time it has waited
for your surrender.
allow it in every atom
& stand victorious
among the wreckage of what
used to be.
face to face with the sky 