America

“O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me. And yet I swear this oath-America will be!” Langston Hughes

 

My country

strives to be

a sweet Land of Liberty,

a Crown of Beauty,

from sea to shining sea-

an example

a beacon

to other countries

and peoples

to witness

the possibility

of beloved community

amidst vast diversity,

of justice

amidst adversity,

of kindness

in the midst of such plenty.

America,

this grand, young experiment

in democracy-

governance

of

for

by

We, The People.

Still struggling with its meaning,

back and forth, we go;

to and fro,

from the high

to the very low.

Another birthday,

America 

tentatively celebrates,

expressing gratitude

for what is good.

While also cultivating

a firm commitment

to manifesting

for all

that which is

honorable,

innocent,

hopeful

within the

imperfect,

complex,

uncomfortable

experiment

that gave birth to a nation

of immigrants.

 

 

FREEDOM

All humans yearn to be free;

to manifest our unique destiny;

to be wholly who we were designed to be.

A caged bird loses its melody-

it cannot fly-

let alone sing-

with clipped wings.

What an utter shame,

a sorrowful loss

this game…we play

of a boss,

of another mere human

knowing better than us.

Why do we so easily

give our innate power away;

so often stifle what is inside us

to say?

We all lose

when we chose

captivity

over

creativity;

conformity

in lieu of

individuality.

We are encouraged to be ourselves,

to come out of our protective shells,

then

often

shunned

when a few

do not see

as we do.

Labeled sinner,

we are marked with a scarlet letter-

excommunicated

mutilated

married

raped

shot

subjugated

stoned

burned!

These, it is believed,

is how we learn

to be silent

remain quite;

stay small

do not stand tall.

What is the threat

that freedom for all

is perceived

to beget?

The shackles

bind

both ways.

What so ever you do to me,

that you do unto thee.

All humans

were meant to be

free.

No matter the costs

or how long,

Spirit will indeed

sing its songs.

 

 

 

 

 

Fated

it comes relatively easily,

that which is fated.

the steps run smoothly

as if actions in an incredulous movie!

one feels as if riding a powerful wave

toward that thing God long ago named;

this place He slated

for you alone,

to grow, to blossom, to come into your own.

“this is your path, walk in it,” He declares.

“trust me. do not let your heart be troubled nor scared.”

not all in this life need be a struggle,

an interminable inner fight

to discern where one belongs,

which way is right.

indeed, sometimes a boulder is thrown –

the Universe knowing better

than to reach you with a mere quiet stone.

Urgent, desperate prayers come up constantly to the sky:

“help me!” they all cry.

God cannot do for us

what He cannot do through us.

that we are each other’s keeper –

a remembrance that is sacred, an absolute must.

The call for help

is responded to

by an ever-evolving self

that consciously

with a sense of deep conviction

and moral responsibility

relays relentlessly:

“here I am, Lord, please use me.”

This surrender,

ego placed out of the way,

then renders

the necessary space

for one’s fate

to perfectly navigate.

 

 

 

 

What will my role be in The Revolution?

What role will I play in The Revolution?

What will my Lord require of me to help bend that long arc of the moral Universe always toward justice?

How will I be asked to repay the debts to those who came before, who took the hits and falls so that I might on their broad, brave shoulders stand – in the moment – free and tall?

To whom much is given, much is required. A government truly for the good of all the people and run by all the people comes at a high cost – the cost of caring, of voting, of marching – of being ever diligent and vigilant, opposing with steadfast love the misguided forces that would hate from the place of fear and darkness cutting through all our human hearts.

What role will we the people play in The Revolution now that the pendulum has swung back, seemingly all the way to the other side and another time – the response to the call for higher love and broader inclusion; the response to the call for pluralism and government visually reflective of its many peoples?

When did we forget our basic tenet that we the people are One – E pluribus Unum? Either we stand together – united, or become completely undone – indeed, extinct – by the misperception that we are not one and must only lookout for number one.

There is no middle moral ground; we can no longer simply stand around, desperately seeking a savior to come down and bear the heat for our collective neglect and defeats.

No, the answers are not out there – never were. The heroes lie on the inside and have thousands of faces. Be still and know that we each have a specific role to play, some piece of the work to claim, an assignment bearing only our name.

May we the people with courage and deep conviction, accept our respective tasks to ensure our beautiful American Experiment lasts, and the freedom for which it always strives remains vibrant and forever alive.

 

 

Sacred

In every moment,

something sacred

is at stake.”

There is a choice to be made;

a perspective to be chosen;

words and emotions, spoken;

a road taken.

A path then set,

fate waits to be met.

A price to pay-

maybe tomorrow, maybe today-

for the hand played.

One reaps what one sows,

as everyone knows.

Cause and effect,

a sacred law,

much too often ignored.

All thought in mind

creates form in kind.

The Universe

sees all,

bears all,

reflects all-

no matter how small.

In the space between

action and reaction

lies one’s rise or great fall.

Either one’s asleep

or awake.

Regardless,

“in every moment,

something sacred

is at stake.”

 

Quote: Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

Written all over your Face

It’s written all over your Face

why you occupy

this space,

in this time.

in this body,

in This Moment

in your-story.

There are no accidents-

such is widely evident.

We are,

each one of us,

called forth,

summoned.

Here,

to re-member

what we really are,

to dispel others’ truths

that became our scars.

Here,

to re-call

our shared humanity,

our One Soul.

 

Artist: Pablo Picasso

Joy in Repetition

There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in doing it

again and again,

learning to see it

outside and in,

the nuances,

the subtleties-

variations on the

exact

same

theme.

What a pleasure

to be delivered

repeated opportunity

for vision,

to better see

what is true-

what is reality.

Day in,

day out;

year after year,

the same issues

reappear.

They come

looking for resolution,

for final absolution.

There is indeed

Joy in Repetition,

in the single-minded commitment

to always come back home

to Self

so as to be

of greater service

to everyone else.

Each Other’s Keepers,

we truly are.

All of us,

big, bright Shining Stars.

Alas, we often forget

from whence we came.

As such,

we are wont

to play

dangerous, destructive

games-

veering off our path,

so far, one can only laugh.

But sins are forgiven;

therein we’re saved!

The Joy in Repetition,

a clean slate,

yet another chance

to pivot,

to reevaluate,

to atone,

to return Soul to its Home,

to not stray

and become lost in the daily fray.

The Joy in Repetition,

returning to love

repeatedly

and

consciously;

relentlessly changing

the subliminal scripts,

adjusting to one

that is truth,

the more accurate,

gentler

fit.

Great Joy in Repetition,

a lifetime

of exploration-

digging deeper,

going farther,

climbing ever higher.

Over and over

and over

again-

when does it end?

Perhaps,

only

in Heaven.

 

The Children

20 November 2016,

it is Universal Children’s Day.

And so, I pause

take time

to breathe

to pray.

So much inside,

I want to bring out,

to display-

especially,

given the climate

of our present day,

where our children

are forced a diet

of intolerance and hate.

How do we teach our children well

in this painful realm?

How do we speak of

the rights of the child

when rights in general

appear in such peril?

We can,

indeed we simply must

do

be

better

for the Little Ones

who look up to us

with such innocence,

such tender and abiding

trust.

They are our teachers,

the children we bear,

holding us accountable

for all we say we value,

the principals we purportedly

hold so very near and dear.

Little mirrors,

our children,

the opportunity

to either see

their reality

and respond accordingly-

or ignore,

leave our mess

in their hands

for remedies to explore.

Either the chain continues,

or we

destroy.

 

 

 

 

 

Girl Child

The first of three girl childs

born of my pop and mum.

I would be the quiet, idealistic one,

the one who dared not stir the pot,

but rather enjoyed observing a lot,

paying particular attention

to the tangible tension

between the sexes

on an almost daily basis.

The women won handily,

ruling the home rather easily.

This all conveyed to me-

directly and

subconsciously-

the strength needed

of a girl child

constantly

to escape vulnerability

within a world

fixated on her sexuality,

rarely her intellectual ability;

a world where girl child’s

heart and brain

are discounted,

deemed second class citizens.

Hence, Girl Child,

either rule or be consumed;

with no apology nor permission,

go for yours or be floored.

No middle ground

here

to be found.

Stand tall,

to a boy child,

never ever

play small, roll over or fall!

Not just for you,

but for all your Sisters too!

 

Written in honor of the fourth annual International Day of the Girl Child, 11 October 2016