The Poetry Marathon

Who am I you ask?

I am sunshine in human form. I am a galaxy of energy unbound, I am a young star, a flower in constant bloom. I am duality of thought and singularity of action.

I am a soul within a body kissed by the sun and flecked with gold and brown kisses from angels who wear milk and dark chocolate lipstick.

I am a dancer in a body with legs that float on the earth, I glide. I dance into every room.  I walk with purpose and faith.

I am a model citizen who likes to share her voice and her face as if it were sacred geometry, occasionally her body tessellates if she has the space to roam free.

I am an artist in an academic body. Some call me theatrical and bold while others see me as shy and soft. I glisten and sparkle depending on how you handle me.

I am multifaceted and I am deeper than farthest shore. I am uncharted territory. I am more than the eye can see.  I am me implicitly.

Use this image and/ or the line it contains “…just be still, and listen” as a jumping off piece. Full credit goes to Shlokla Shankar.

( This whole experience of being tired and yet inspred beyond belief has ellicited this message expressly for you and only you. Read carefully for the words contained within the lines below are powerful and true. Meditate on the meaning and all will be done.)

Just be still, and listen.

Listen for the “kokoro” of your heart.

Listen to your soul.

It has a name that is quiet and true.

When you listen. You receive the answers you need.

Sometimes you shush it away. Afraid of its voice and accuracy.

Listen and you will learn the calling of your heart.

The song of your soul…

Be still and see if a world of wonder does not open up expressly for you.

Almost out the blue you will find what you need at the appointed time.

The right call, the right everything will fall into place if you’re steadfast and true.

Do not get distracted by false prophets who mirror your journey. You hold the key.

This is a solo journey unto the uncharted territory of you. Be still. Listen…

You will believe again in magic. You will know again what if feels like to be whole.

Let the words spill from your soul unto the page.

Let the canvas reveal all that you love and desire in one breathe.

Take time to discover the sweet reveal.

Like now, can you hear in the dead of night when the world is quiet prayers are answered and dreams may begin to reveal.

Find your rhythm, uncover the path.  A way is being prepared for you. Be patient my love. Listen first to you and then all your desires one by one you will see come true.

As you write the words on the page it is happening as you create, and sometimes that creation begins with you.

Quiet..be still and listen.

It will be done.

It is so.

Yes.

Dear Future Love,

Why do we always meet in this way?

You on the other end of this page and I wondering if and when and where we will meet.

How will I know it is you? How will you recognize me?

Will my mind intrigue you, or will you be enticed by my looks?

Will our connection be forged in fate or pure chance?

Will your eyes envelop me in your gaze, or will your smile tell me everything I need to know.

I am patient as you are kind.

I am as daring as you are loyal.

I am as passionate as much as you have faith.

Will I design and you create?

God knows I believe in fate.

We share something that not everyone can see and yet when our two souls meet everyone will see what was once hidden.

I will not store you away like a precious pearl, not would I want you to keep me for yourself because I am free.

For you already know, I choose to be with you.

“I stopped thinking about extreme grief as the sole vehicle for great art when the grief started to take people with it.” – Hanif Abdurraqib

This week an artist, and last week a principal, brought to my attention startling statistics concerning the suicide rates in America.

First this is Mens Health Week and 75 percent of men loose their lives to suicide. If this was not shocking enough the statistics go on to shed light that in 2019 the suicide rate was 1.5 times higher for Veterans than for non-vets over the age of 18 according to a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) study.

Equally alarming suicide rates have doubled among black men since the 1980s as reported by (CDC) and is currently the third leading cause of death for African-American males between the ages of 15-24 in the 2019 study.

The New York Times did a follow up during in 2020 looking at how the Pandemic may have contributed to this already tragic topic.

Suicide is still  the 10th leading cause of death in the USA.

South Korea, Hungary, and Japan are now on the rise with world suicide rates.

The World Health Organization states that we loose over 700,000 people to suicide worldwide each year.

Based on this I created a poem to shed awareness on this topic.

Every one needs to feel productive.

Some like to be alone in the comfort of home.

Others flourish in the company of others.

What ever your choice, please know that you are loved more than you know.

Each one of us is experiencing something that we keep inside.

Yes, you may be afraid to reach out in the middle of the night.

We do not want to loose you. Your presence means more than you know.

Someone is experiencing the hurt you feel and we are here if you need to share.

We need you, to tell the tale of how you survived this almost insurmountable burden.

Please know that you count and you always have.

*I lost a friend in high school and every time I hear of someone who has died I wish I could have been his listening ear.  Some of us did not even know. Don’t be too shy to ask for help in the way you feel most comfortable.

The world needs you more than you know.

Someone is counting on you and you don’t even know their name.

Countless people care for you, so please don’t go.

We will be there to see you through it all until you can do it on your own.

If you need us please let us know.

Let’s stop suicide in its track and give the youth and the elderly and everyone of every creed and nation in between the tools to see that all life is sacred, especially theirs.

Do you remember the last time you experienced the butterflies?

That sweet moment when your stomach quivers from anticipation. Just the thought alone elicits…

A feeling of bliss. Light as air. You float. You don’t know how to walk anymore.You glide.

As elusive as a butterfly, it does not even need to be brought on by a tender kiss. This only intensifies its effect.

Is there any question that love takes place first in the mind, or does it, this is visceral bliss, joy personified.

Death Came twice this year and it might as well be three, 2020-2021 are the two hardest combined years to date.

First my uncle on halloween, the baby of the family gone too soon. The closest to us all taken away. Or at least this is how it felt.

Second, my mother’s second brother gone, cooler than him you could not find, strictly roots & culture all the way.  A miracle in every sense of the word. Four years in and we knew he would make it despite what doctors would say.

Words cannot express only… the songs that they love. The children they leave behind will be forever changed, yet their presence their impact I know, will always remain.

Then without warning out of the blue a cousin a few years older than me too, looses her life to a sickness I may not even know. To loose three family members in the span of two years feels overwhelming for anyone, two losses on my mom side of our family and one for loss for my dad.

No wars exist where they live, no tragic hit and run, or crimes took place. It was sickness  that took them so quickly and that is why it hurts triply. The pain they experience I may not ever know.

God how to tribute each of their lives I ask and I pray. Give our families the strength to go on and prosper each day because once they left this earth we all felt alone.

Three bright and beautiful lights extinguished far too soon, bells ring in heavens room, butterflies signal their return to our earthly home perhaps we can honor them with each new moon.

I no not wish I would have said yes to love.

But I do wish my children were in my arms, clamoring, ” Mommy, Mommy please!”

I hear my cousin in the background as I write and I remember when I dreamed of the mommy I would be.

Play dates in the sand, strawberries and cake on the seashore.

Food natural from the vine.

Free roaming children of mine.

A rainbow country

Conscious party on the rise

Many one people.

Note to Self: I’m finally ahead. Synesthesia like Imposter syndrome is real. So are dream readers and empaths. Intuitive, healers and the like. When you face your fears you conquer all those tiny micro-movements that propel you and pull you back into webs of disappear, however fragile and imaginary. Let the music heal you and may you find your voice sweet poetess… You deserve an abundance in excess.

Things that should not be compared in bed.

…Thoughts that hang like pearls on a pear tree.

Remnants of what used to be…

• Dreams that one has no intention of fulfilling.
• Liquid sunshine and dew drops
• Vanilla and Chocolate
• Fire and Ice
• Kisses and embraces
• Unconditional love

Things that we should not compare.