Accept Accept you know but do not know. For when we don't know good things will come. When we look around the corner too soon We may fall into a trap too deep. There is no esculator up these mountains only the wind to carry us. Accept that you can't know and good things will follow.
Tag: caribbean poetry
I Stand Corrected
I Stand Corrected I stand corrected, for now I truly see, the breach I have committed in not seeing your humanity. I am better than the Pharisee - is this not true? I stand corrected, for my shaky legacy of misguided hurt that led me to bury you in the dirt when I cast the first stone instead of bathing you in the light. I stand corrected for my part in not seeing the treasure you are, in my chest filled with duplicitous art.
June Plum
June Plum Seductively sweet - though it can be a savoury delight- it reaches for your insides promising to be more than a treat. It delights the sense quenches the urges, buried so long and so deep. it's golden light promises perpetual sunshine that excites, but only if you take that first bite and not even a drop should fall on your chin. But how can something so small brought by a Bligh who brought so much strive taste so right? Yet here it is slowly awakening the senses delightfully taking control...
Keeping it Real
Keeping It Real
I have been designed many times:
who I am
who I should be
who I was meant to be.
But none asked
what I am to me
what I was meant to be
or what I see in me.
They count the years
and fuel my fears
with their unasked for expectations.
No one seems willing
for me to be me -
They will say they do-
There is the lie.
They can't handle the truth of me.
And so they see what they want to see
the maddening fever of their mirage.
So
they polish up and shine
the me they designed
and leave me to languish,
wasted
dusty
on the shelf.
There I sit
after having been split
by good intentions
and kind words,
struggling to reassemble myself
while you nurture a leprechaun elf.
I Try and Compose Myself
I Try and Compose Myself I stay still and pray for the will to keep myself together. The more I try to shut my eyes A little piece of me falls away like the burnish autumn leaves. Silently too like an old banshee I scream from the fright of what this could mean. Layer after layer melted in a scurry while I sat nervously fretting and sweating with worry - what could this mean? As each layer continues to fall away - to de-compose and expose - What I see, is a deep down rawness of a tale no one knows - not even me.
Grace Untold
Grace Untold I was trapped in hell a decade now, did you not know? There, the demented fire licked at chasm wounds tore at softened bones melting like the liquid lava river I passed by. As I clawed my way out across cracked desert floors, I lost a few things but I got back my soul. From that treacherous escape to the light I had to wrestle, and defeated the demons of the night. On shredded legs I ran like a lightning bolt thanking God. One day perhaps, when I have gotten old I will find the words to write of victory won and grace untold.
The Gratitude Journal
The Gratitude Journal I want to say I'm grateful, for this life for my many things for my many friends and for my many family true? But also, a slow Sunday afternoon sunlight glistening on dark and rich skin life breathe flowing in and out eyes to see nose to smell a shelter where I can dwell... And, sadness that brings joy sun to chase away the storms ignorance that births wisdom mistakes and failures that nip me awake and escape the destruction that awaits just around the corner... Most of all, I thank God for the gift of gratitude that rewards with beatitudes.
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