Listen Without words To what can only be spoken With Silence There is no loss There is no gain In the Place where Love is Home Like the top of the inhale And the bottom of the exhale Where in and out are One And coming and going cease to be There resides the thought That tells you what you already know You are more than enough And worthy of all Creation Here is where In Silence you hear The Voice of the voiceless Noiselessly shouting Everything I Am Is Communicating To Everything You Are Telling You Once and for All We have Everything We need When We have each Other
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.
We all entered this given world Shining ever so brightly Until we were handed a cloak of shadows And were taught to take our shining lightly The shadow cloaks that we are given Are all different, but the same Put on by people who we’re born to trust But started lying with our name They called us a moniker we didn’t choose That made them feel a certain way Perhaps a projection of someone’s past That we’re expected to display Rather than get to know us And discover who we are They tell us who we’re supposed to be And complain if we stray far But it’s not that I’m trying to blame them They did what they knew to do Because before they projected onto us They were cloaked in shadows too They too were forced into a box Aimed to maintain society They believed the lies that were told to them Before they ever lied to me Some were told the lie that they were best When compared to other people While some were told that they are worst And must forever work at achieving equal But, both these states are lies There’s no one above or below another And the truth is there’s no shadow here That another’s light cannot uncover You see all of us were meant to shine So that this world won’t be in dark And each of us has the work to do Of dissolving shadows with our spark In so doing we don’t just free ourselves We free all who came before Until the world is filled with shining lights Who wear shadow cloaks no more
Before I ever met you I knew I’d never forget you I spend everyday of my life Thinking of ways that I could protect you That’s probably why you aren’t here yet This world is nowhere near yet I’m still trying to make it safe So that you will never have to fear that You could be abandoned In this place that you have landed I want to give you a better world Than the one that I was handed I never want to hurt you That’s why I intend to nurture All your hopes and dreams Just so you can learn to Be your own man Or be your own woman Just don’t let up on this world Always keep it coming Show them what you stand for Tell them you demand more Just in case I don’t finish It is you that I made this plan for This is just contingent If I can’t do all that I mention You will know that I was trying And that I had the best intentions But this world is full of doubters Who have a tendency to cry louder So yell at the top of your lungs If they can’t see that you have power This is also your planet You should share, but don’t just hand it Give as well as receive So that you can achieve balance Learn from my mistakes So that you won’t have to make them If you’re offered a lot of promises Learn when and when not to take them If you find yourself in error Learn and keep on moving Never pretend to be winning For it is then that you are losing Your friends are your reflection They’re here for your protection But they will become a part of you So be wise in you connections Remember that we are precious People may get jealous But they really just want to live like us Although they may never tell us So stay confident in what you’re doing Live the dreams that you’re pursuing And do them honestly So you will never see them ruined Well these are just some word from a Dad That you may or may never have Who before he ever met you Saw you as the greatest gift he ever had
Photo by Mustafa Omar
Written before my children were born. But both of my daughters show in the world as if they read the poem before they got here.
I’m weak And I’m not afraid to admit it And in this I find my strength Though many will not get it I’m broken In all the right places Accepting what is Gives me the power to truly face this I’m ignorant I don’t know what the deal is Which gives me the eyes to see The reality of what real is I’m helpless I can do nothing on my own Which is why I ask for help From the One who is my Home So, I’m hopeful That I will wake while we are dreaming Seeing in the dark To the essence of our being
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 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.
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.
It's All In Me - Poetry Blog 