Day 113 of 365
I’m one of the richest people in the world
There’s nothing I can’t afford
Whatever I want I, I instantly have
So there’s never a need to horde
I never have to strive
Nor do I ever have to wait
I command whatever I need to be
Without a moment to hesitate
If I think of a thing I have it
Completely skipping the passage of time
I’m presented with gifts before I ask
As if the Universe reads my mind
Now that’s what I call abundance
All the favor without the fuss
No need to be ostentatious
When my currency is trust
But as soon as I start my doubting
All of my abundance disappears
Then suddenly I’m falling short again
And living out my fears
That’s how it is with this thing called money
It’s the agreement that we made
Speak the language that it speaks
Or live silently as a slave
Sadly, many of us chose the latter
Thinking money is something real
When it’s actually just a symbol
Of how a group of people feel
It has no intrinsic value
No one can measure what it’s worth
But we treat it as if it’s life itself
When in fact it is its dearth
We forget that money is simply a screen
Onto which we project desires
The only power it can ever have
Being to assuage our consuming fires
But that is only temporary
That’s why we’re always wanting more
Separating abundance from our existence
In exchange for keeping score
It’s a game I never want to play
I want everyone as rich as me
Because when abundance is reality
Everyone is free
But money will not allow it
It goes against the calculation
That needs some to be the richest ones
And the rest in desperation
Image by Towfiqu barbhuiya
Category: Weakness
What Do You Mean By “What Do I Mean?“
I really don’t get it
When liars get mad at being lied to
Bending truth like a pretzel
But cry “foul” when others tried too
I’m totally confused
By cheaters who hate a cheater
Their tragedy is a comedy
All of the drama but no theater
I have no time for manipulators
Who hate being controlled
I’m past your passive aggression
You can’t imagine the heavy toll
And polite people are perplexing
I’d rather be kind than nice
Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear
Because in time there is a price
And the “Holier than thou”,
Who are you trying to convince?
God sees your thoughts and so do I
So you can cut it with pretense
And I can’t forget emotional martyrs
Who find joy every time they suffer
Feeling good is like a full assault
From which they always have a buffer
Then there’s the guilty for feeling guilty
The ashamed of feeling shame
The people who say “I’m bored” so much
You’d think it was their name
There’re those who give advice
They never seem to take
And the ones who always “keep it real”
By being really fake
Every kind of reactive being
Whose heads are such a mess
But act like they have the whole thing down
But when confronted won’t confess
I can’t tell if they’re pretending
Or if they know not what they do
All I know is if I’m “too direct”
They say “Something‘s wrong with you”
If I say exactly what I mean
They ask “What do you mean by that?”
If I actually answer what they have asked
They say, “You’re too serious with all your facts.”
If I have no opinion on certain things
Because I have never explored them
They proclaim “experience-less expertise”
But are offended if I ignore them
They get angry if I talk calmly
Saying, “You don’t have any feelings.”
Little things can throw them off
They want my thoughts while they’re concealing
They are killers afraid of dying
Committing murder with their mouths
Always seeking clemency
But won’t give benefit of the doubt
And yet, I’m the one they call divergent
Because I’m slow to pick up norms
Discovering life as it shows up
Instead of aiming to conform
It’s enough to make me crazy
But I’m not trying to be neurotic
I refuse to believe it’s normalcy
To use emotions like narcotics
However this is what I witness
In the way that folks react
Feeling their way through unseen worlds
Then crashing like trains that go off track
But when confronted about their behavior
They cry and say, “I didn’t mean it.”
It’s like having your cake and eating it too
Now isn’t that convenient?
Shot to the Heart
What if bullets are just proxy tears
For people afraid of crying
What if bullets are just proxy tears
For people afraid of crying
Expressing emotions they can’t control
That result in other people dying
What if bombs are actually heart attacks
Of those too tender to unload
That finally when it all comes out
They cause a radius to explode
What if nukes are really suicide
For people scared to die
Who threaten to destroy the entire world
Rather than face what they can’t hide
That they’re secure in insecurity
Spreading the virus of toxic shame
Because they’re drowning within finitudes
Of all they stole to gain
Image by 愚木混株 on Unsplash.com
Caveat: I know that this line of questioning and poetry may bother some people. That is not my intent. If you know me, you can trust me on that. And check in if it is really charging you. If you don’t, I hope you have a support system that can serve you.
Am I Confessing?
If I worry when I don’t have to,
What does it really say
About how much it is I trust in You?
Are my words empty when I pray?
If I’m jealous of another
Is it a denial of Your Creation?
If I want what was never meant for me,
Have I led me into temptation?
If I refuse to forgive my neighbor
Who slapped me on my cheek
Have I forgotten I’m eternally safe in You
Whose strength’s revealed when I am weak?
If I try to get attention
That was really meant for You
By pretending I know the answers
Do I make a lie of what is true?
If I worship at the altar
Of things that are bought and sold
Have a made a sham of what Freedom truly is
For a little piece of false control?
If I don’t see me as You see me
Do I make the whole world blind
By denying what’s in all of us
And impressing limits on Your Mind?
If I refuse to receive redemption
Without the words to understand
Simply because I can’t explain it to other folks
Do I let go of Your Hand?
If I’m attached to what will never last
Am I missing Your biggest lessons?
If these thoughts are really on my mind
Are my questions my confessions?
Image by I.am_nah
Miss You While You’re Here
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 still have hope that you’ll get better
That perfect love will cast out fear
But for now I’ll be grateful for what we have
Because I don’t want to miss you while you’re here
© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II
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.
With true love,
Pedro
I Always Feel Like Crying
I always feel like crying
But it doesn’t mean I’m sad
It means I’m paying attention
To the issues that we have
In my soul I see a vision
Oneness is our Way
But in my body I feel division
As I watch morality decay
I have prayed and prayed for comfort
But it seems it’s nowhere near
Until I accept that I can’t save this world
And release my brokenness with tears
I wish that I was stronger
But my weakness keeps me humble
I would love to never make mistakes
But I was put on earth to stumble
I see heaven’s door wide open
I call on all I see to enter
But I’m afraid that if I go in first
I’ll forget what I remember
I know that’s backward logic
But they say the first’s the last
So when I came here from the future
It was to finish off my past
I hope that I’m not losing you
By speaking in ways that are not clear
I just had to get this off my chest
In case I’m drowned out by my tears
© Copyright 2020 Pedro S. Silva II
Repairers of the Breach
There is nowhere God is not
Even in what doesn’t last
God gives all things a future
And is not shackled by the past
In our weakness strength is known
And through it we know each other
So through it we are all made One
Each a sister and a brother
So let us see our humanness
Through the eyes of the One who made it
That we might be repairers of the breach
For the world we’ve co-Created
© Copyright 2018 Pedro S. Silva II