You don’t get to tell me That I am not who I am You will never know me If you are using you As a frame of reference You haven’t been through what I’ve been through Held what I am holding Grace in physical form Giving better than what I was given Because I believe in a myth that I need to be true Forgive them for they know not what they do I want to be like you Remembering even in the face of violence This is my body I choose how it feels Regardless of others’ projections Regardless of their rejection With or without protection This is my body I will be who I will to be Because no one knows this body but me And those with whom I choose to share it Becoming One This is our body These are our bodies Broken for each other By one another Healed by the Lover Now we are One Body No longer broken Life created by Words spoken My body is your body Your body is my body Every Body and No Body Can be Any Body When we break But don’t shatter Resurrect by Mind over matter Choose the Former over the latter Being made in the image of the One Body Who births all bodies Time and time again
This poem will be featured at the event below. Click on the link below to learn more about the other poets. And if you are local to Boulder County, CO and want to join us, you can RSVP by going to this link.
When I feel like I don’t deserve what’s coming I get tempted to run away Often I make it to the door But 95 percent of the time I stay The reason isn’t because I’ve gained some clarity Or feel like I should be a screen for folk’s projection It’s because I know that he didn’t run away Which created the path to resurrection All of us have been crucified before It makes sense to want to escape it But the power that’s on the other side Only comes when we choose to face it That doesn’t mean that you should be a victim Or try to keep your abusers near It simply means that only perfect love Can cast out the toxicity of fear You see this Universe has a crazy way Of calling up what causes revulsion Through a process that rarely goes away It’s called repetition compulsion That means even when we’ve been hurt before We keep the patterns in our life With the hope that one day we’ll learn the lesson And handle the situation right But that’s a peculiar kind of insanity That makes us become what it is we hate In a backwards way of trying to save ourselves From the behavior that becomes our fate That’s why I’d rather wind up dead sometimes Than become what tried to destroy me Efforting to cast out all my cares So that the Creator can employ me To most this sounds like a justification Or an extreme version of denial But to me I can’t return to innocence If I never go on trial
I just want to be defeated And no longer have a care Let this last battle have me And sink into despair Raise the white flag Settle into the abyss Deleted from the world’s memory So that I won’t even be missed Get absorbed into the Void Go from I was to now I wasn’t Undo whatever it seems I’ve ever done So that what I do becomes a doesn’t Utterly erased Even from anyone’s imagination An unmanifest impossibility Not even a consideration I don’t want heaven and don’t want hell Nor any concept in between No good or bad illusions Nor awakening in the dream I only want to be empty Completely uncontained I’ve given everything I have I just want to rest in being drained But this doesn’t mean I’m giving up I’m just finally seeing clearly To be who only I can be I cannot let earthly desires near me They function how they’re supposed to They promise what they cannot give So wanting anything in this life Never shows us how to live It is only in wanting nothing That I can receive everything and more It’s only in surrendering everything I thought I had That I can be what I came here for
A million opportunities For me to be A million different people Who were never me Negative one Plus infinity Makes me less than the man I’m supposed to be Made like the Creator Supposedly But show up in my power They’re opposed to me The essence of the One Is meant to flow in me And flow inside of you Hopefully But we’re taught not to try To live in a lie See ourselves as less The higher us we deny On earth as in Heaven I see it so clearly While the Logos Way Is disappearing We’re called to show love But we’re steady fearing Wanting to escape We hope the end is nearing But we’re back in the beginning There’s no loss and no winning Reality is virtual So we’re virtually sinning Missing every mark Too fast and no aiming Preaching to the choir Is so spiritually draining But here is my thesis We’re stuck in mimesis Copying the bound So we don’t know what free is It’s not supposed to be this Leaders who just hinder Taking advantage Because your souls are so tender Don’t knock, but still enter Hypocritical mind splinters So consistently cold It’s like perpetual winter Frozen in place Condemning with no Grace Filled with emptiness Like a room with no space So come face to face Breathe the Breath of the Living Surrender everything To be eternally giving Take part in the Whole Out of the many become One A million choices become choiceless Now the ego trip’s done
Looking out into the distance I wonder what is beyond the horizon Out in the yard, we build our outer strength To prepare for the war that’s waged within “I am worthy” For my body tells me so And all I am here is a body A body of evidence A body of work A body made for work Nothing more and nothing less than a body I just am what I am And no one gives a damn They don’t want to understand That more than a body of work, I am A Body of Intelligence A Body formed and informed by Divine Intelligence The same Intelligence that created the stars Made maps of my scars Came near from afar And drew closer to me than breathing Made knowledge out of my believing Taught me that giving is receiving Never forsaking or leaving Grief more intimate than all my grieving Descending into the depths Soul bleeding On the mission of retrieving The part of me I lost When I believed that all I am is a body A body of evidence A body of work A body made for work But I am more than a body I am somebody A member of the One Body Undeniably valuable By the virtue of my being My eyes are now seeing Beyond the horizon Noticing now What I couldn’t see before There is no wall There is no door There is no one keeping score I am imprisoned no more But I am not free For I am my brother and sister’s keeper And giving is receiving I can go but I’m not leaving Until you see what I see We are somebody A member of the One Body Undeniably valuable By the virtue of our BEing A Body of Evidence A Body of Work A Body made for the Work Of giving form to the Divine Intelligence The same Intelligence that created the stars Made maps of our scars Came near from afar And drew closer to us than breathing So that seeing can become believing Joy can replace grieving When one leaves we’re all leaving Going out beyond the Horizon To discover what we were made for Amen
I pour my self into You Trusting You will never spill me Never fearing emptiness Because I know You’re here to fill me The terror known by many folks Who can’t contemplate Your Promise Is dissolved the moment I witness You So I give it all to keep me honest I don’t want to pretend to Trust in You Only when for me it is convenient Then as soon as I don’t get what I want Realize that I don’t mean it To me Trusting You is its own reward In fact it’s my only Treasure Because anything that does not have You there Will never stay together From the beginning and to the end From the first and to the last Without You nothing that seems to matter Ever truly has Nations continue to come and go Things that were enter non-existence While people pretend to get it all Through selfish one sided resistance A horrible error in calculation No one can hold their breath forever Whether you last exhaled or last inhaled The project of breathing is both together And that’s what this world’s forgetting Perhaps some of us never knew it Oneness isn’t the strongest wins It’s polarities congruent
Whenever I write a poem, it is the fruit of weeks if not months or even years of spiritual labor. I don’t write to influence. I write to express. What emerges contains every part of the process that you would witness in the natural process of growing an actual fruit tree. And I never give way to the temptation to pick the fruit early. When it’s ripe, it falls on its own.
As the video explains, this poem was born out of two months of struggling to write about trust and a bout with a short term unwellness that rendered me extremely contemplative. What the video doesn’t say was that for most of the three days that my body was fevered and in pain, I was repeating “Thank you God. I love you.” as if it was my breath. I did this in part because of a practice I developed a long time ago based on James 1:2-8 where adherents are advised to count all of our trials as joy. And the other part is that I imagine that most people’s conversations with God are about asking for things they want to come in and things we don’t want to go away. So, I just decided that I would not ask God for anything and just be thankful. Besides there were a number of times when I was a pastor that I would suggest to people that they say “thank you” as a part of their process. So, I had to take my own advice.
Now, before you get into this video, let me me warn you that it may come off as a little irreverent. It isn’t meant to be. But, it is meant to make folks think. It is meant to challenge you and to basically call out where I think our lack of trust is leading us. I put this out here in trust. I guess that is where I will leave it.
Listen Without words To what can only be spoken With Silence There is no loss There is no gain In the Place where Love is Home Like the top of the inhale And the bottom of the exhale Where in and out are One And coming and going cease to be There resides the thought That tells you what you already know You are more than enough And worthy of all Creation Here is where In Silence you hear The Voice of the voiceless Noiselessly shouting Everything I Am Is Communicating To Everything You Are Telling You Once and for All We have Everything We need When We have each Other
As I was talking to God about some of the stuff I’m processing, I looked up and saw a bald eagle. When I saw it, I was in Massachusetts. I lived in Mass for almost 10 years and never once saw a bald eagle. I didn’t even suspect that they lived in this area. But, I googled it and in fact, it said that there are currently 76 pairs of bald eagles in MA. So, there’s a slim chance of seeing.
I looked further and learned that in some indigenous traditions, bald eagles symbolize non judgement, spiritual seeking, and pushing the limits of self discovery and personal liberation. Let’s just say that I can relate.
Seeing the eagle then was a comfort and a reminder that when we ask we receive, when we seek we find, and when we knock the door opens. And I have no influence on who makes these choices or not.
Photo by Mark Olsen on Unsplash
Much of the content that has emerged since November 19 is my processing the death of my friend and mentor, Carlton Pearson.
Grief is a midwife, giving birth to who we’d never be without loss’ seed. Realizing that you’ll never again be who you used to be makes room for who you are becoming So let yourself weep. Be emptied of who you’ve been Because someone wiser, more capable, and more honest is waiting to emerge Everything you held back, waiting for the right time can be released from its temporal prison The time to be who you were created to be is always now And yet, in the realm of human relating, there is always an order First the mother and the father, then comes the child is the way it is written But also true, is that before mother, father, or child took residence in the womb, they were wholly conceived and fully known in infinity BEING from the beginning AND dwelling in time is the Spiritual reality of those who embrace the human reality that in this life we must learn to hold grief in one hand and joy in the other So grieve as you must, tremble with the pangs of rebirth It is the falling away of who you can no longer be So that who you’ve always been can come to LIFE
In my last poem, Higher Dimensions, I mentioned that my friend, Bishop Carlton Pearson was sick. Well, a few days ago on November 19, he died. Since that moment, I have been going through the 5 Stages of Grief by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, M.D. pretty much in exact order and quick succession.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
I don’t know if I am going through them in an orderly fashion because I know of them or because they are natural. Either way, I am going through them without resistance and telling everyone that I am meeting up with in person during this holiday season that if I go in and out and look disinterested it is because I am grieving someone I felt very close to.
The Sixth Stage of Grief The poem above is part of the lesser known sixth stage of grief by David Kessler, Finding Meaning. In the text below from Carlton, he was ministering to me in my grief about leaving ministry. But, I find that it is equally applicable for grieving him.
I have been holding back so much over the years because I didn’t feel like I could bear to relive the rejection I received from the Pentecostal church I was a part of years ago. I met Carlton in the height of his rejection and the scarring over of mine. For a season I had easy access to him because many in his life had turned on him. In that time, we talked out all we had endured and marveled at how our lives mirrored each other even down to both of our wives working for airlines and the adventure of flying on standby. It was kind of uncanny. What differed was that he still wanted to go back to the folks who rejected him and make plain what he had not fully been able to articulate at his dismissal. I did not. I only wanted to talk to people who indicated their openness. And that’s where our paths diverged.
Now that he’s gone in the body, I’ve been trying to make meaning of the last couple of years. He was way busier and folks who formerly rejected him started popping back in. He was terribly hurt by Trumpism and how easily evangelicals surrendered to this so called “strongman” and seemingly put him on par with the Christ Carlton loved so much. He was trying to reconcile how he gave so much of his life to that expression of Christianity and how in some ways he felt complicit in many folks, especially Black folks, believing such painful doctrine. He wanted to make up for it. And in that way, he was like a modern day Paul of Tarsus trying to preach his new understanding of Christ.
I totally understood AND I couldn’t get into it with people who didn’t want to meet even halfway. Twice in his life, he gave up everything for his love of God and people. The first time it almost cost him his life. The second time, it did.
Even though I foresee myself writing out a lot of words in my grief processing, words can’t begin to express the contribution this man has been to human evolution in consciousness. I predict that we’ll be discussing him for generations. As for now, I’m going to keep talking to him in my heart and writing my way into who I’m becoming.
This feeling has just come over me But, I cannot explain it It is calling me outside of myself And I cannot contain it Like liquid light if it moved through space All of me is filling And I am called to go outside To share everything that’s spilling Is this the Living Waters? Am I made to be a fountain? Facing down as I’m going up Like walking backwards up a mountain I can feel that I am changing Into someone I didn’t plan to be Opening eyes that once were closed To show me who I am to see It’s like looking into a mirror And seeing countless images emerging Then accepting that none of them are me As a condition of my purging Then the last one speaks, and says to me, “What you received you have to give Generosity is the flow of life And the only way to truly live So consider yourself as empty For the sake of receiving more Than one lifetime could ever hold So, feel free as you explore Release the fear of losing Because there’s nothing left to gain The joy you wanted to hold onto Was never meant to be contained.”
Image by Vale Zmeykov on Unsplash
Poem inspired by a conversation with Douglas Abrams co-author of The Book of Joy with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Brought to the Boulder Public Library through the support of the Boulder Library Foundation.
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