One Day

One day we will learn that unity is cultivated by the lines that divide…
One day we will learn that all beliefs are temporary in an open mind…

One day we will see that truth and wisdom aren’t ours to barter and trade with for convenience…
One day we will understand that the struggle of identity is part of the human being experience, even Jesus…

One day we will grasp the folly in thinking we can change who we are through slick phrases and biological arrangement…
One day we’ll stop jabbing life’s book with our broken pens and learn to be adept at studying the pages…

One day we will believe we have purpose so strongly that we know freedom is not in the violating of these fleshly containers…

One day we will respect, not just the divinity, but the INTELLIGENCE of the Creator.

One day it’ll pierce our thick skulls through these skin walls that our issues and justice causes have root flaws that aren’t visible, they’re spiritual…
But until that day…

May we humbly increase in humility and actual understanding…

And may Grace liberally cover us all.

Unlimited

There’s a hero in there… somewhere.

I know this because I can’t sleep without dreaming of people I want to inspire and I can’t be awake without seeing maxed out potential all around me. Sometimes I feel like lost poetry in motion, emotionally charging for creative assault and battery. I feel the coursing rivers of a curious strength in me, but the clouds across my mind have me feeling like my undiscovered gifts are a hidden disease.

I’m not aiming to please, but it feels like I missed the mark. If I don’t stop it quickly the ghostly burden of failure before enduring will drive me to my knees. There’s a hero inside me somewhere, but I feel like my super powers are super used to stay super sane. The picture of mediocrity in a different frame. Measurable discord in the membrane…

But in the quiet moments of my thinking… that hallowed space between one thought and the next… a mighty force deep in my soul crackles with power and vision. The voice of God pours through and I’m reminded that the battle isn’t the fight- it’s the perseverance. What? Easy to say for You Almighty God! You don’t have to deal with the doubt in my thoughts… you don’t have the burden of being blessed with something so incredible that you don’t really have words for it…

I say there’s a hero somewhere inside me, but I’m not sure I’ve earned it… the right to use that word. But then again- how can you earn the right to something you were born with? I didn’t choose this- creativity, vision, hope- I woke up with it.

It’s me.

There’s not a hero somewhere deep inside afterall… because the hero is me already.

Elders

We need the influence of the gray hairs
The ones who have tasted the choking air of our less taken road
The ones who survived the assault of foolishness and the curse of being scared
Who fell in love with wisdom when they felt like losing hope

What we need is not merely people older than
What we need is our elders
Wrinkles who understand youthful intelligence and
Know how to inspire us to make it better

We need the old folk
With strong heads on strong shoulders
The ones who command attention like Captains and Generals
The ones who can train young hopefuls into soldiers

The ones set in their stubborn ways
Because being stubborn is what kept them alive
The ones who know God and can call out the immatures and the fakes
And yet give loving guidance over grandma’s cookin at the same time

Grave, responsible, playful, hard nosed- we need our elders
That courageous, legendary, heroic breed of old
Too many young people running around with only idealism as their helper
Whatever happened to love healing the world and truth anchoring the soul?

We need to believe in our elders
And we need our elders to believe in us
Factions fracture, but oneness overcomes failures
And above all, we need to return to in God we trust

Dear Maya

image

Dear Maya…

It pains me we never met. It was an ordinary Wednesday, til I caught wind of your death, now I’m distressed- fingers running through my hair and getting lost like broken barretts. I would never claim to be your greatest fan, but the breeze that blew through your cage as you sang, carried your scent of greatness through time and space over to me.  It was like a seed of your love DNA was reframed and painted an awkardly strange yet desirable portrait in me.  The only thing I wanted to be… was your grandson.

Not in the legal, social sense, but in that special way that sometimes happens between two people… You see, I had this fantasy- and in it… I would walk up to you. Hesitant. You would smile. I would smile back. Then you’d take my hand and I’d cover it with my other one. We would look deep into each other’s eyes and see the kindred light shining the Morse code of the poetic mind in flashes of brightness that out shined the sun and made it look like tire rubber. And then, before any words were spoken, we would just… know. I became your grandson; And you became my grandmother.

The next words will probably make people scoff at me, but the pain of your passing is the anesthetic protecting me… I never read any of your books, never memorized your classic pieces, but I was fascinated by you as a person and how you taught the believers about believin. Truth be told, in every interview and recording I never saw you as old, but as living poetry. Every word, every breath, every phrase, every inflection of imparted wisdom, was literary excellence dipped and baptized in the Heavenly Nile- I fell in love with love off of your FREESTYLE!!

But now… like a confused caterpillar trying to get out of its shell, my heart is cracked with grief. Trying to rake away the sentiment that everybody leaves right when I need the strength to stay free. I don’t know where they store the tools to shift heart gears, but when I read that you died I shed real tears… I’m not a snail in a shell, I’m a caterpillar in a broken cocoon… but I’m not sure what’s coming through. Can’t tell if it’s a butterfly or something underdeveloped… I was hoping that one day you would tell me.

Dear Maya… I love you. I never met you, but I love you… that’s what your legacy is all about isn’t it? Love. And purpose. To cradle in your arms a lost and aching generation and tell them it’s okay to walk in your footsteps, as long as we yield control of the road to God and how He paves it.  Your words… your heart… your spirit… were aMAZING… I’m praying to be like you- the hero I loved. Which is probably why this hurts so badly. I would gladly trade any of my successes for seconds to look you in the eye and tell you…

I love you Grandma Angelou.

The Will of Bachan

Melodical smoothness reaching out towards infinity through the sunny expanse of time… arms reaching through black holes to grab hold of the wholeness that the progress of humanity has so foolishly left behind.  Strings vibrate the harmonious sounds and wrap rap til it’s soundless and sounds less like something we would prefer to have no sound at all.

Before we know it we must press hand to head to keep from floating away as our ears turn into the wind of the instruments’ sweet serenade.  Blind, deaf, mute, and paralyzed all come forth to be married off today.  To be bonded with the condiments of the soul truth of today, listen- you can lose yourself as that music plays.

It jumps! It skips! It rolls along the ground.  To the untrained eyes, tis a spasm of the heart but to the wizened tis the most exceptional display of talent vocalized art.  When in uniform harmony none can part rider from horse, nor wars between stars from sheer force, and the force of the beauty going forth is nothing shy of amazing.

Then the drum hits, and destiny cracks open her door just a bit and we realize the key is changing!  Cascades of fallen dreams spilling over from the endless weaving basket of space!  This is beyond mere music, this is the heart song of faith!  It’s beyond great.  Beyond any construct that mere mortals have so brazenly made…

This, music… These, instruments… This divinely sweet nectar that we drink so deeply of unto the deepest crevasses of our indwelling spirit…

This is a class of purity all its own…

We would do well to sit back and listen.