To Be: The Real You

The truth is they won’t accept you
Because you won’t accept that you’re accepted
You remind them of the lies they told
Because you reflect what they projected
The denial of your existence
Protects identities that don’t exist
And now you want to be like them
What part of the message did you miss?
Who you are before you’re born
Is more true than you can know
When you let someone tell you who you are
Who has no power to make it so
That’s why I live and keep on living
Without the dream of keeping score
Knowing absence from the body
Is Presence with the Lord
And by “Presence with the Lord”,
I mean I Am Presence too
Because the One You Are when You’re with God
Can never be taken away from You

Seeing Angels

I think I always believed in Angels

But the ones I saw just don’t have wings

They showed up as I needed them to

While the world was busy with other things

They entered my dimension

Through vehicles such as art

Creating treasures out of trash

And healing through broken hearts

Picking up my pieces

And turning them into Peace

Hiding behind the eyes of those

Our systems call the least

Penetrating so called power

To reveal what they want us to disguise

We are all angels from time to time

When Truth is lifted above lies

© Copyright 2023 Pedro S. Silva II

Cover photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

To Be and To Become 

Looking through the window

I see what is the soul

The Witness of all I witness

The fulfillment of my goal

The genesis of my being

And my exodus return

The destination I never left

Through living I have learned

An eternal invitation 

To be and to become

An only among the Many

Realized when I am One.

© Copyright 2023 Pedro S. Silva II

Lies Hurt

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.

© Copyright 2022 Pedro S. Silva II

Indescribable Impetus

You will ask me how I got here
In reality, I do not know
I surrendered to my brokenness
What you see now is emergent flow
It is not a part of Creation
Since it was before things are
The zero point of beingness
Collapsing distance from what seemed far
Be still and then you’ll know
Has nothing to do with stopping
Just as rising from the fall
Is not a consequence dropping
It is more like finally arriving
To the place I never left
By getting to the “other side”
Through borrowing another’s death
Now coming back to life
I choose to live like I’m twice born
Reinhabiting an incarnation
Through the veil that has been torn
Now when looking through the windows
I see what cannot be described
To those who breathe like they are living
But have yet to come alive
This is now the indescribable impetus
For everything that’s coming through
My actions coming from inaction
A human being before I do.

© Copyright 2022 Pedro S. Silva II

You can listen to this poem on Pedro’s Poetry Podcast.

Everything Breaks

I am broken.
And finally, it all makes sense.
Everything breaks.
Everything breaks.
And all of the world’s suffering comes from the denial that
There is nothing in this world–
Seen or unseen–
That is going to remain unbroken.
Even our systems will break.
Our religions are breaking.
The Earth is breaking.
Rocks break.
Grains of sand break.
We break atoms and release cataclysmic levels of energy.
And we use that power to make bombs
That cause explosions that break everything within a certain radius.
And what the bombs don’t break in body, they break in spirit.
Because they are a reminder that everything breaks.
And there is nothing I can do to stop it.
There is nothing that any of us can do to stop it.
And it is driving us mad.

In our denial, we create broken systems, use weapons, and create endless entertainment–sometimes called “programming”–all meant to distract us from one of two truths that we all have in common–
If you choose to be born, you will be broken repeatedly by this life
Until you cannot break anymore.
And when you break for the last time, you may wonder
Where did the breaking world go?
Will the things I left behind just keep breaking until they are where I am?
Nowhere.
Now Here.
Nowhere else.
Yes, they will.
Everything you worked for or didn’t work for,
Everything you stole and everything you kept from others,
Everything you took credit for as if you were the fount of Creation,
It will break.
And it will no longer matter.
If it ever did.
And at some point, everyone who ever was will be completely broken.
And then the earth will break.
And then the Sun will break.
And then the solar system will break.
And then the galaxy.
And then the Universe.
And then whatever contains the Universe.
It all broke.
It dissolves.
It will all go away as if it had never been.
And all that will remain is the Love that fought the losing battle to prove that each of us is worth the effort even though we’re breaking.
Even though we are broken.
Love breaks but can’t be broken.
Is everywhere and nowhere.
Creates and destroys.
But can’t be created or destroyed.
Energizes but is not energized.
It is what it is before we are what we are.
And love will remain when we are no more.
Realizing this, let me love love while I can.
Let me live love while I am here.
Or better yet, let love live me.
So that even as I am breaking, love pours through.
I guess that was what he was teaching
When he said, “I am broken for you.”
I am broken and I am breaking.
When I accept it suffering ends.
And only Love remains.

© Copyright 2022 Pedro S. Silva II

You can also listen to this poem on Pedro’s Poetry Podcast.

Apology to The Mother

I used to come out here and listen to your wisdom.
The incarnation of flow
You reminded me that I am not my own Source
All that passes through our bodies derives from something Greater than ourselves
You weren’t just the singer
You were sung
And when I listened to you and your Way,
I wanted to be sung as well
Stillness in Motion
Your moves were not your own
Moved by the Unmoved Mover
You carried those who rested upon you with borrowed Strength
And this is how we thank you
You chose us because you knew the joy of being chosen
But, we didn’t choose you back because we thought we were entitled
And now, like the One who learned from your mistakes,
You’ve been poured out for us
So now when I look at you, I know what it looks like to be cutoff from the Source.
Reckless realities collide
Who will mourn for you if you die
When we realize that it’s all of our funerals too?
I know thoughts and prayers are pointless
But I do it anyway
Because sometimes lying to ourselves is all some of us have left
But, what I’m really trying to say is that I’m sorry for my part in all of this
And if there’s a chance that my tears will bring you back to life,
I’m prepared to cry rivers
Perhaps that’s why I’ve held back this long.

And find it on your favorite platform here.

© Copyright 2022 Pedro S. Silva II

The Burden

“How on earth are you hoping right now?”
I really want to quit.
No more coping right now?
My demons got demons.
No more glowing light now.
I have become my own shadow.
Whys consuming my how.
We’ve all heard the stories
Of who we’re supposed to be
But I wrote my own story
When yours was opposed to me
Became a default leader
They’re drawing close to me
Now my failures are their failures
Supposedly.
When I’m not “myself”,
No one knows it me.
Hiding in plain sight
Until you let go of me.
This is the burden
That none of us has asked for
But if one falls from grace
We’re all put on blast for
They say we credit our race
Or we bring them down
Then when “I’m” not there
I am finally found

©️ Copyright 2021 Pedro S. Silva II

Almost every Black person I know who has grown up in America knows what it’s like to feel the existential burden placed upon us that says, “You represent your entire race.” I remember getting in a conversation with a military buddy who happens to be White about this a couple of decades ago. He was honest enough to admit that he had observed this too. And being a straight forward man and not very politically correct, he indignantly said, “Dang man that’s messed up. It’s not like I have to think about how every serial killer makes me look. And you know most of the serial killers are some crazy White guy.”

Because we are good friends, we could have an irreverent laugh about the absurdity of it all. And in the context of our friendship, he and I have dismantled most of that systemic garbage so that it isn’t between us. But, at the same time, things like what went down between Will Smith and Chris Rock shows that the larger culture is still entangled in this tendency to place the burden of all of us on everyone of us. Even many of us Black folks are wrestling with this, calling the incident “Black on Black” crime, because we have been enculturated into this mindset and don’t think of questioning the culture that create such misnomers and agreeing that what happened puts Black people back instead of just the person who made the decision.

As someone who has wrestled with this burden most of my own life, while always questioning its validity ever since a teacher told me I was a “credit to my race”, I can say this is unfair and needs to be deconstructed. When my teacher said it to me, I let him know that I didn’t take it as a compliment even though I knew that was how he meant it. It hurt his feelings. But not as much as him essentially saying to me, “Your race is so messed up, they are lucky to have you.”

If you are someone who doesn’t have the social obligation to represent your entire community to the world, I invite you to meditate on that for a moment. What does it feel like to think that the next thing some one from your group does that is unwelcomed reflects on you directly? Imagine someone coming up to you at your job and asking you, why someone did something as if you all have some kind of group telepathy. That’s what a large segment of society is asking of us everyday. So, if you want to lighten that burden, don’t participate in this tendency. Be part of a better way. Get to know people as individuals. Listen to and share personal stories from folks who differ from you. And don’t rely on biases to determine your relational capacity.

You can also listen to this poem on Pedro’s Poetry Podcast wherever you listen to podcasts.

If you’re looking for opportunities to relate beyond biases, check out events such as America Talks and the National Week of Conversation.

Thanks to @anas_alhajj_ for making the cover photo available freely on @unsplash

Desparation

If I had a dollar for every time we say, 

“If I had a dollar”

I’d have enough

To never even bother

I’d buy a private island

In a land faraway 

Take every single dollar

And give it all away

I’d be the poorest and the richest

And no one else would know

Buried my treasure in the sand

To see if it grows

Then in a state of desperation

For all that I have lost

I will hold myself for ransom

To see how much I cost

We weren’t born for this 

But still we do it daily

We let the world we created

Drive us crazy

“I choose the lie over life

Believing it will save me”

Is the thought

Of the emotionally lazy

You’ve been lied to

How is it possible you can’t see this?

It wasn’t God

Who created us to be this

To the One we are Beloved

It’s our Name from the Beginning

It’s believing otherwise

That’s the Genesis of sinning

Desperation

How did we get this way?

It defeats the very purpose

Every time we try to pray

I can’t stand it

How many times can we be told?

You can’t serve two masters

And the worst of them is gold

©️ Copyright 2021 Pedro S. Silva II

The Call of the Coyotes

I hear your call on my morning walk
In my soul you sound like me
Expressing not entertaining
Giving voice to what makes you free

You are a child of Nature
Living here before we came
Domesticating wildness
While our own tongues we cannot tame

Whenever I hear you calling,
I wonder what you say
Is yelping in the darkness
The Way Coyotes pray?

Well if it is I’m part Coyote
I also call to the One Who Hears
I may not speak Coyote Language
But I’m blessed with Coyote ears.

©️ Copyright 2021 Pedro S. Silva II

More poetry at https://itsallinme.com/