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
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.
I hide Myself From Myself To protect Myself From Myself Because when the fear comes From Myself I try to pretend As if there’s someone else Who wants to steal From Myself So I hide Myself In the one place I’d never look Within
It's All In Me - Poetry Blog 