I really don’t get it
When liars get mad at being lied to
Bending truth like a pretzel
But cry “foul” when others tried too
I’m totally confused
By cheaters who hate a cheater
Their tragedy is a comedy
All of the drama but no theater
I have no time for manipulators
Who hate being controlled
I’m past your passive aggression
You can’t imagine the heavy toll
And polite people are perplexing
I’d rather be kind than nice
Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear
Because in time there is a price
And the “Holier than thou”,
Who are you trying to convince?
God sees your thoughts and so do I
So you can cut it with pretense
And I can’t forget emotional martyrs
Who find joy every time they suffer
Feeling good is like a full assault
From which they always have a buffer
Then there’s the guilty for feeling guilty
The ashamed of feeling shame
The people who say “I’m bored” so much
You’d think it was their name
There’re those who give advice
They never seem to take
And the ones who always “keep it real”
By being really fake
Every kind of reactive being
Whose heads are such a mess
But act like they have the whole thing down
But when confronted won’t confess
I can’t tell if they’re pretending
Or if they know not what they do
All I know is if I’m “too direct”
They say “Something‘s wrong with you”
If I say exactly what I mean
They ask “What do you mean by that?”
If I actually answer what they have asked
They say, “You’re too serious with all your facts.”
If I have no opinion on certain things
Because I have never explored them
They proclaim “experience-less expertise”
But are offended if I ignore them
They get angry if I talk calmly
Saying, “You don’t have any feelings.”
Little things can throw them off
They want my thoughts while they’re concealing
They are killers afraid of dying
Committing murder with their mouths
Always seeking clemency
But won’t give benefit of the doubt
And yet, I’m the one they call divergent
Because I’m slow to pick up norms
Discovering life as it shows up
Instead of aiming to conform
It’s enough to make me crazy
But I’m not trying to be neurotic
I refuse to believe it’s normalcy
To use emotions like narcotics
However this is what I witness
In the way that folks react
Feeling their way through unseen worlds
Then crashing like trains that go off track
But when confronted about their behavior
They cry and say, “I didn’t mean it.”
It’s like having your cake and eating it too
Now isn’t that convenient?
Category: Compassion
Somehow We’ve All Been Deceived By the Impossible Illusion That Oneness Can Be Two
I am not your enemy
Even though you were taught that decision
I see the Universe as it can only be
Absent of division
Whether I choose to agree or not
Everything is connected
But in the illusion of the divided mind
Anything can be dissected
We split atoms and we split up families
Draw invisible lines called borders
But can’t admit we invented it
In a war against natural order
Somehow we believe the lies we tell
More than the truth that’s in our faces
Competing for what is infinite
Just for the thrill of “winning races”
But there is no competition
Once you take away the lies
And wake up to the disturbing fact
That we’re all collectively hypnotized
Photo ironically by CottonBro Studios 😮
Miss You While You’re Here
Lately I’ve been thinking about
All the moments that we missed
When we’re younger we think we have plenty of time
And don’t think about stuff like this
We put so much off until later
But what if later never comes?
All tomorrows repeats of yesterdays
The future setting like the sun
I’m not ready yet to miss you
When I know that you’re right here
There’s so much I wanted to give you
Before my chances disappeared
Now it hurts that we talk almost everyday
And yet we never talk at all
Or that I battle with all these tempting thoughts
Not to answer when you call
Of course I want to be here for you
But it seems this is always where we’ve been
You telling me about how hard it is
While I listen on the other end
I look back and feel like a failure
I wish I could’ve spared you from some pain
But the best I can do is be a witness
And pray for something else to change
I still have hope that you’ll get better
That perfect love will cast out fear
But for now I’ll be grateful for what we have
Because I don’t want to miss you while you’re here
© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II
I wrote this poem as I started to think about how many conversations I have with my mom are about how to make it from month to month. We talk everyday. Sometimes multiple times a day. But rarely are our conversations about thing that I would like us to talk about. Because of all of the stress over the past few years, there has been a strain on the relationship. I’ll be honest and say that often I am acting like I am her parent rather than the other way around. I want her to be safe and make decisions for her well-being. I know how hard she tried to be whatever and whoever she felt she needed to be to make sure we survived growing up. That took a toll on her. And I know that she had huge dreams–most of which never got fulfilled. This is a wound in her heart.
She always told me that she wanted to leave my brothers and I with a legacy. What she meant was money. That hasn’t happened and it saddens her. She apologizes for not being in a better financial situation and asks me to believe in her that she can still pull it off. I want to believe, but… And now that I am witnessing her forgetting so much and yet still holding out hope for a miracle or for her “ship to come in” as she says, I feel a twinge of regret. I ask myself, “If I knew we were going to end up here anyway, what would I have done differently?”
At first, I told myself I would’ve stayed in the military so that I would have my retirement right now and I could be working another job to provide for her. But then I look at my wife and kids and know that I had to take the course I did. I then think that I should’ve chosen a more lucrative profession than being a pastor. But then, I was having a conversation with a guest at the church who is experiencing homelessness and watching members of the congregation–to include children–serving food and sitting with our homeless neighbors and I thought, “I am glad to be in this moment.” And then I thought, well maybe I was called to be a pastor for a season, but now that my mom needs me, I need to move on and do something else because my responsibilities demand it. And then I prayed and I felt the spirit moving me to be honest about how hard this is and to tell my friends. And so I did. And they stepped in and blessed my family and gave me room to breathe so I could figure out how to make the next best move for my mom. They showed me the truth of the teaching that says, “[God’s] strength is made perfect in our weakness.”
And so then in that space, I asked God what I could do differently for my mom. And in my soul’s language I heard, “Don’t miss her while she is still here. Because that’s what you’ve been doing. If you want to have different conversations with her, change the subject. Talk about the things that you wish you could talk to her about. If she misses it and repeats something else she just said, tell her you love her. Tell her your dreams and maybe she’ll get joy in knowing that she is a part of them. Have an unreasonable belief in miracles because you never know what might happen. And don’t forget, you are not in this alone.”
So if you are reading this, what my soul spoke into my life, I speak into yours. There are so many things in life that can distract us from the moments we are in–something to tempt us to forget that there is always the possibility of great beauty around the corner. In my weakness, I found strength in hitting my limits and reaching out. My hope is that in sharing what I am learning, it is blessing you all too.
With true love,
Pedro
A Friend In Need
They say a friend in need is a friend indeed
Or is it a friend in deed
Meaning a friend is one who acts as one
When another friend’s in need
Or maybe it’s the former one
We’re friends when we’re in want
But otherwise we give no others thought
Just to make it blunt
But perhaps it is more gray than that
Which makes it difficult to name
Because where self-sufficiency is idolized
To be in need is to be shamed
It’s really hard to put my finger on
As I examine my condition
When I’m aware enough to know I should ask for help
But won’t fully give myself permission
On one side, it’s because I don’t want help
I have learned so much from all my failing
But on the other side, I know that there’s sufficient grace
For those of us prone to self-assailing
Furthermore when I’m on the giving end
I always do what I can do
But when I’m on the receiving end
I do my best to just push through
But presently I am torn
This uphill battle seems unending
I could keep on trying to handle this
But in reality I’m pretending
I’ve always been good at holding burdens
But now my burdens are holding me
As I consider that I’m just a request away
From a space that feels more free
Well, if anything, there’s a lesson
These constraints I feel won’t last
And it matters little if I hear “yes” or “no”
Things will get better because I asked
© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II
I wrote this poem after wrestling with my thoughts about whether or not I should share a fundraiser I created for my mother to help ease some of the financial impact of her pending move. This season has been really tender for me for a lot of reasons. Besides watching my mother succumb to the effects of a lifetime of stress and anxiety, trying to keep this pressure to myself has taken its toll on me and my family, both emotionally and financially. But it’s not all bad. This also has been a very creative season for me as I’ve tried to make sense of my own anxieties in light of my faith that when we are open, there is a solution to every concern. I’ve written poems that I never would’ve been able to write were I not translating, what at times felt like, overwhelming emotion. I completed a rap that I’m really proud of despite the fact that it has not yet brought in any of the money I’d naively thought it would. And in my social justice and community building work, knowing that I am personally impacted by so much of the challenges that we’re trying to ameliorate, has shaped my preaching and public speaking in a way that perhaps it would not if my family was more shielded. And finally, by putting this out here, I feel that it is on the path of healing the ill effects of the negative type of pride. And so here we are.
I Always Feel Like Crying
I always feel like crying
But it doesn’t mean I’m sad
It means I’m paying attention
To the issues that we have
In my soul I see a vision
Oneness is our Way
But in my body I feel division
As I watch morality decay
I have prayed and prayed for comfort
But it seems it’s nowhere near
Until I accept that I can’t save this world
And release my brokenness with tears
I wish that I was stronger
But my weakness keeps me humble
I would love to never make mistakes
But I was put on earth to stumble
I see heaven’s door wide open
I call on all I see to enter
But I’m afraid that if I go in first
I’ll forget what I remember
I know that’s backward logic
But they say the first’s the last
So when I came here from the future
It was to finish off my past
I hope that I’m not losing you
By speaking in ways that are not clear
I just had to get this off my chest
In case I’m drowned out by my tears
© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II
Live Facing the Sun (For Bob Murtha)
In the life of each and every one of us,
There are many worlds unseen.
Perhaps motivations no one knows about
Or the push to fulfill dreams
Some have nightmares no one speaks of,
That if we knew, we’d have compassion
When they show up in ways we can’t understand
Or do things that are out of fashion
Some of us came to this place
Knowing exactly what to do
While others love the mystery
Of trying to fathom what is true
Some are neither here nor there
And can’t seem to call this home
Even when in a crowded room
They can’t help but feel alone
But then there’s those who are here and there
In them all these worlds are One
Being led they also lead
Ever facing toward the Sun
They have found the pricey pearl
Through the gift of truly giving
Leaving all worlds better places
Through the Presence of their Living
© Copyright 2019 Pedro S. Silva II
I wrote this poem in honor of a church member, Bob Murtha, who embodied a spirit of quiet grace combined with strong presence. My life has taken to a lot of places I didn’t ever expect. But the places I appreciate more than anything are the hearts of people who I never could’ve conceived knowing. I am enriched by it and grateful that God’s idea of the human family is bigger than what I can imagine.
Love Punk
I’m afraid to tell you how much I love you
Because you don’t love you more
Which makes my love for you seem too much
And you refuse to be outscored
So instead of loving you more than me
You try to make me love you less
Thinking how can I love what you don’t love
Which leaves both of us depressed
So in order to protect us from me and you
I hide my love for you in the future
So we can feel we learned what we already knew
Since you only run when I pursue you
That’s why I leave so I can stay
Creating space just to get close
Believing I can love you all I want
Once you learn to love you most
© Copyright 2018 Pedro S. Silva II
Spoken Wordless
Words cannot express
What words cannot express
But Silence is compelling me
So I will do my best
Though everything is backwards
There is something coming forth
That is leading us to where we’ve never left
So that we’ll always be on course
It’s fullness is not religious
Truth’s Way will free us from our binds
But first we must deny ourselves
So that our True Selves we might find
That is the Revelation
That so many before us bore
But, we lost our Way living outside in
And always keeping score
The Way Showers wants to free us
But we have to kill them first
Because we refuse to be what we will not see
Thus labeling them a curse
But as soon as we can’t see them
We see them as they are
Exposing what we once denied
That we never were that far
Then suddenly we’re speechless
If only we had known
We’d’ve been deliberate in our reaping
So that our freedom could be sown.
© Copyright 2018 Pedro Silva
The Truths Cannot Die
The next time that you kill us
Remember we never really die
Suppressing us won’t free you
Because Truth can’t sustain a lie
I know our presence scares you
We make you feel unsure
Nothing can quite prepare you
For seeing your prejudice impure
You’ve been taught we’re inconvenient
You try to hide us from your view
But locking us up doesn’t keep us out
Since you can’t get away from you
Your history of violence
Towards those who look like me
Has left so many people silent
That we barely know how to be
You say that we are valued
And yet you try to hide the Truth
But there’s no escaping what’s evident
We are the living proof
But where does this knowledge leave us
For too many it ushers shame
The one thing no one wants to feel
Because we can’t escape the pain
See that’s not what we’re seeking
What we want to share is hope
But in our face you see a mirror
And hang the image from a rope
Your guilt too, is not of value
It’s just denial in different dress
Which leads to justification
Which fosters anger and unrest
So what is the solution?
Where do we go from here?
How can we live by a better Way,
When we hold on to our fear?
The answer is we cannot
We have to let love win
Or die in the darkness that we choose
And then do it all again
It’s My Cross Too
I want to be of service
To pour out who I am
Without the thoughts being accepted
Or that people will understand
I don’t want to shift based on opinion
Just to move when I’m in Truth
And be willing to fail if that’s what’s real
And need no signs or proof
I want to follow Jesus
Even if it takes me to the Cross
Because I know he stands in the Light of Love
Where in Truth there is no loss
I no longer want to deny Him
Just because he cannot be explained
You see he’s bigger than religion
With a love that’s not contained.
I want to live his revelation
That all of us are One
The truth he lives and dies for
Until every lie’s undone.
© Copyright 2016 Pedro S. Silva II