the sight of vision, the hearing of the muted, the sense of loss, the smell of hope,
the unseen tomorrow….these and some
stir my ‘heart ‘ – ah that organ of awareness we’ve placed somewhere ‘tween head & rib.
And oh when my spirit opens itself to pray…
what words could describe the Sensory of Prayer? We as a Race are sands shifting in the growing Light of Dawn,
the growing Life of Light in my dark: the sight of things I touch in my core, by a power they call Faith…. what is that described? Must I describe it, for who? Why write, share moments broken from ‘accepted’ norms, why care, why heal? Why kneel, why weep joy,
Why bless for curses; why Love for hate, why rejoice in suffering, what is this; hell heaven, Christ, Lucifer and the Spirit of every man and woman and child – running deep from what we hide, deny
How long before Parks too will close down again? This Lil guy did not want to be seen, but few moments later he shimmied down that tree, his eyes brilliant with joy.
Why didn’t I give myself permission to talk to him? Courtesy- protocol. Sigh. I’ll never be able to walk past that rock without wondering if he’s ok.
As our State looks to more Lock down and vaccines, know what? For sure we have never peered closer at God. We as nations and homes, haven’t gazed deeper into each others eyes, haven’t admired nature, faces, leaves, skies, rocks, people;
As a race, we’ve not lingered as much at each other, socially distanced and all,
today as I read my Bible, the words came out and wrapped themselves around my head. “Give thanks..” And I had to stop beating myself over that boy I walked past at the Park. Gave myself permission to pray that he’s alright. Yes we can pray, right? My atheist friend ‘ll wag his head. Thats ok. In the end we will know for sure what we stutter at now.
Would, should, but could? That’s the option that hangs between abilities. Can you walk? Could you cross that river? Can you trapeeze? Could you bungee jump? Can you breathe? Could you live? Can we agree? Could you accept one another? Can we not kill? Could we not hate? Can we care that we dont care….
here’s where it should be ‘would’ve, but could becomes the more used word, because we may say, “Nah I cannot!” “I could not.”
Our new friend, a digital artist looked at me like I fell off Mars then cracked up in long drawn out sobs of laughter.
“What’s the worst word you’ve ever..?” He asked after a respectful pause. “Oh dont bother …”
Karu K. 10 years older than me, has seen war and love, and lost. If he’s bitter about life it doesn’t show as well as his cigarette smoke. He cannot tolerate too much peace, still does some serious heavy metal music, maybe has chain saws for pets, who knows. I love K. like a brother already and tell him that but is it helping?
“…$%$#%^… give me a break,” he cracked up again but his eyes went flat.
“How can you guys be artists and never need to unleash, yknow…?”
What’s an ‘artist’ supposed to unleash: tongues made of Cato’9tails?
I do not do Bs, Fs, Gs…Qs …not because Gran and Ma and aunt Rosa didn’t but because my tongue is attached to a meter that goes wahannnng if I go there.
So no Brother K., I don’t know how to swear, nor can I fake it. Is this a relevant post, is it necessary to even ask? Why is creativity so intertwined with the incredible Art of Swear? Why do people swear? Is it about being out of the box, is life that unbearable boring, are we run out of words as a human race, does it make us socially acceptable in some some circles, does life get easier if we swear…?
Over the past few weeks as they’ve been changing medication for our son, we’ve watched him go from being the gentlest human we’ve met, to a leashed/unleashed tiger with a certain tongue lashing quality that’s unbelievable. So I looked up one of the drugs our new doc said was probably causing some of the havoc. Looked it up and it says among side effects: “...harshness, negating of emotion…” , perhaps theres the need to vent; need for a certain friendly aggression…
Does that explain a few things? Perhaps the details of K’s existence has had its side effects? Not just K, but the Shop owner 12th cross, and neighbour when his papers aren’t on time, and Mr. Dev at the Photcopiers’ and some in the bus, in cabs, in gas stations, in conference halls, oh in restaurants and magazine columns, in movies and music> side effects that list under Friendly Fire. Unsure how to end this post. If I’ve offended anyone I’m sorry, nor do I wish to hear offensive ling. And yes I’m seriously sad K will not accept brotherhood: is that old fashioned to even ask? I guess so. But I’m not changing bro. I like me this way.
When K came home the next day he did not use any of the words he’d used at the meet. Said he didn’t feel the need to, and that it freed him in a way he wasn’t willing to discuss just yet.
(This Post inspired by a friend who is happier with name changed).
these two hands stayed home to stare out at trees and skies and leaves; I wrote poetry with my floor mop, or doodled with raw mango skin, and left over crayons. Never sold much, I hoarded; love pavements and the songs in strangers’ eyes. Love God. But who said that works in the ways of everyday living? Nah, nobody. Today’s my quiet day, my consult with the King. Here we are Hannah and Esther, Sarah Martha and Sweet Mary. Life and the Times have also made me some David and some Peter. And some Noah. I ache to pet some living (wild)species I’ll never probably personally meet…. polar bear and sea horse.
So, 3.30 pm Monday with my Maker. The home outside this door smells fresh bread. It’s our second daughter baking. The youngest sits with the sun in his face, he can look right in the Light, unflinching. He has that gift, some call it visual disability. His eldest sis makes music with a guitar and keys, it’s a harp to listen to… muted sounds of life reaching through to me under my door,
I have lived to see this, and see true love in Jeff’s eyes at the altar of Your faithfulness-
this November, I’m stripping barbed wire. The barbed wire of disbelief, grouch & fatigue(ugh terrible trio).
Yeah I’ve never earned fortunes and proverbial silver spoon and wheels but I’ve spun unedited prayers at family toes at 5 to 5 am some dawns –
You watch me watch You light the sky bringing heaven to my hearth;
I bless Your Brow if I might – with a daughter’s kiss that heals things I don’t know to say or ask. Thank you for healing our lil one’s seizures.
This Monday I’m sitting here in the deliciousness of a healing. I didn’t find You in fests and grand recitals, but here in the hiding place among heartbreak where our blind son healing from seizures, must also wear out meds’ side effects …
You here in these rooms of cuts and bruises, his confused tender blind face not even tender in random chaotic moment. The girls brave it all, they huddle later, wipe our fears away. ‘This too shall pass,’
I find You here nestling us:
It’s an aloneness crushed with the aroma of You,
the aroma of Grace.
Compassion, suffering long;
Grace & Humor kiss each other, smiling, locking arms and tears with anticipation of a better hour to follow.
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