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
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.
Do we say, “the Truth hurts”, Because we’re all a bunch of liars? 100 percent smoke Zero percent fire Addicted to desire And other folks approval Saying what they want Is business as usual. Programmed by patterns Like an algorithm Access to knowledge But we’re lacking wisdom Can’t make decisions Because we’re scared to see clearly That what we want to be real Is actually nowhere nearly We’re scared out of our wits Because we know we’re dying So we pay for distractions Even if we know they’re lying And there’s no denying But it’s all we do Because we’re afraid to be hurt By the One and only thing that’s true.
I’m sorry I apologized When I was just being me I was just a slave Who falsely thought I was free
But now that I’m seeing more clearly This is what I meant to say Kiss my grits And get the H-E double hockey stick out my way
I think you get my point Without me going to extremes I could say it a little harder But it wouldn’t change an ounce of what it means
Besides if my dead grandmother were here And heard me talk to you like that She’d slap the taste right out my mouth And give all my apologies back
See, the worst things in life are often inherited Taught to fear in the name of survival Illusions of superiority Cloaked in the excuse that we’re all tribal
We say those before us committed the crimes But we choose to pay the price So when we accept the earnings of an unjust cause The effect is our souls being sacrificed
How can we choose God who we cannot see and reject our brothers and sisters who we can see? This is the choice before us. To love who we can accept or love who God loves. Nothing can prepare us for the full revelation of God’s love. It is an undoing love that sets souls free. God, undo us. Remove the chains that bind us to the false self,so that our true self can emerge. Nothing can prepare us for the awareness that God fully loves all—even those we would not choose to love. Choosing God is choosing all of God’s children. It is choosing ourselves. May we choose wisely. Amen.
It's All In Me - Poetry Blog 