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.

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

Waking Up to You

Waking up to You is the why of my life
You are the Dream that stops my dreaming
You tell the Story of what many fear to know
And give every Word its truest meaning

You call to me to my deepest Self
By the Name only You can give
Whispering in so loud a voice
That gives the dead the choice to Live

Many of us say we know You
But Love says that that’s not true
Whenever we say You dwell in us
But can’t see our neighbor inside of You

Or when we make the least important things
The sandy ground of our foundations
Forsaking the Rock upon which You’ve built for us
The most enduring of habitations

We’re distracted by the attraction
Of getting more by giving less
We measure others by the scale of our selfishness
Then give ourselves credit when we confess

But despite all of this You love us
And that never shall decrease
Even when we deny Your Presence
By not seeing you in our least

And that’s the refining fire
You love us everywhere we go
Even when we use Your Name to tell our lies
And act like You don’t know

You are definitely some kind of amazing
I hope my soul can reach your standard
I give up my story that keeps me up at night
To awaken to Yours that’s so much grander.

© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II

Becoming My Father Figure

In a moment of self-reflection
I determined something sad
Perhaps I will never have a child
Until I become the father I never had

As a kid I’d approach different men
And ask if they had a son
If the answer they gave was ever “no”
I’d ask if I could be there one

Little boys need their fathers
I am a testament to that
I have spent my whole life chasing mine
And being how I thought he should act

I watched the rest of the “single mother crew”
Trying to find acceptance among our clan
But I didn’t want to be raised by kids
So I continued to pursue the Man

I had a grandpa who died when I was four
I had an uncle who was pretty cool
A guy named Chico who my mom once loved
And a couple of teachers from my school

They all had an impact on me
But it still was not enough
And though I still saw my real dad from time to time
I still needed a father’s love

So in every man I met
I looked for the best part I could find
I knew that all of them couldn’t make one dad
But part of them could be mine

So I guess you could say I’m blessed
That’s why I still pray for all my niggas
All of us who deep inside
Are still looking for our father figure

© Copyright 2019 Pedro S. Silva II

I wrote this poem almost 20 years ago—before I had my kids obviously. I came across it when looking for something in the garage. It was in a cardboard box next to my high school year book. For a moment I hesitated looking at them both. But lately, I have been thinking a lot about the presence of my father’s absence. You read that right—the presence of my father’s absence.

It is strange how we can feel someone’s distance. I felt my dad’s. Every time I found myself in a situation where I felt like I needed a dad, I could feel that my dad wasn’t there. And I imagine, that a lot of other boys in my situation felt that way too. And as men, I bet a lot of us still wrestle with that presence of absence.

Now that I have my own children, I cannot imagine intentionally being out of their lives. Still, I don’t blame my dad for not being able to be who I thought I needed. One reason I don’t blame him is because I know that I can’t judge him. First of all, what good would it do? Second of all, he must have been carrying something very painful to not have the capacity for fatherhood in the conventional sense.

To make up for the absence, I allowed the space to be filled with God and the Frankenstein father I created from the pieces I picked up–and am still picking up–along the way.

As I reflected on this and on who I experience myself as now, I like to think that everything that happened was perfect. And yet, I can’t help but wonder about those other people in my position who were never able to fill that absence—people who to this day long for what we’d hoped for in a father figure. I wonder and I pray that they become who they have always been looking for.

My Creator

You are the Love of my Life
And the Life in my love.
Every love poem I write to You
Has been plagiarized from Your Heart.
Though words cannot contain You or express You,
You have endless names
So that anyone who will
Can know the satisfaction of calling on You.
But Named or not,
We cannot beckon You to come where You’ve never left.
You are always here.
The places we go where we cannot find You do not exist.
As the Psalmist wrote,
“When I awake, I am still with You.”
Am I still with You?
I must be.
Or I would not be writing words that only Love can speak.
Am I awake?
I must be.
Or I am dreaming the only thing worth dreaming—
That You are the Love of my Life
And the Life in my love.