My Divine Question

Growing is difficult. There is no more difficult time than the present. Where future and past collide in depression and anxiety, where the chance of love and fear find their way in a weird type of hate/love relationship that expands into night’s of troubled sleep.

Last night I could not sleep until half way through my appointed schedule. Before sleeping, I felt death approach me in my chest, almost smelling its breath.

I always found it odd that in the times when I know something good can happen, when growth is good, the same challenges arise in front of me with each obstacle.  The fear of loss, not being good enough, saying the wrong words, let alone showing any sign of hope, edges me into a state of nonexistence.  

What ups the anty is the intermingling of sexual innuendos and loss of touch, challenging me to judge myself as not good enough.  Yet somehow, in some strange way, I am learning to no longer judge these as good or bad, yet disclosed and hidden. What is hidden shall be revealed. The lack of judgment brings me into the understanding that I am capable of loving myself. Thus bringing me into that divine question, revealing itself Monday, “Can you let go of the control over your loneliness, sorrow, and pain?” 

Silence

Silence, I once thought, was my enemy.

Slowly, my friend, it has become.

It is not judgmental towards our weaknesses, our strengths, even

the bad and good acts we do to ourselves and others.

It is there when I am rejected or accepted.

It is willing to help me understand my weaknesses and gives me

insight into my character.

Through abuse, neglect, and rejection,

I was taught to keep silent, for I was not worth hearing.

How could I speak when I had trouble speaking?

By the judgments of others I learned, I was not valued,

I was not seen for who I am as a human,

only a body that is not measuring to the expectations

others so gallantly exalted to what is true, noble, right,

or what can help them feel better about themselves.

How sad I am finally knowing what silence is now.

My own silence and the silence of others.

The Mornin’

I’ll go to a place where no one knows me.
For here they don’t even see:
Recognition is key to existence.
Knowing you’re alive without anyone else seeing me is glorious.
But being acknowledge and wanted by another human is extraordinary. They have forgotten the essentialness to their existence, while overlooking the cutting. The painful reminder that continues on.
Knowing there’s the Divine is immortal and powerful,
But so far away and yet so near.
How can this one Being know one so close?
No one around, I continue to let go of my heart’s desires,
Everywhere I go I see and use it to remind myself that to be is Being.
Happy faces, sad faces, all around the whiskey masks the breaking heart.
Overlooked and not understood, forgotten by those who smiled, waved, called me friend, and said, “See you next week.”
So much do I know I may never awake the next Mornin’.
It is what it is.
Existence is bliss and yet creates memories so dear, so deep, so powerful reminder to reach out to the dying. Inside.
Rest assured, those who say they love, forgetting what/who/them/they is in front of them, and they say once again:
“There is love and now go on your way. Be blessed I’ll have my own to be.”

Forgiving Pain

Into the depths, I go once again.
Wondering if I’ll meet a different Presence.
Deeper back, into the pain and sorrow,
isolation, rejection, accepting what may.
Is there someone else?
Is there a mighty Presence awaiting
to help me through?
Although sins are forgiven,
the effects of the harm from others
and myself have altered perception
that should never have been.
Yet slowly, in an innocent consumption,
I feel love and acceptance,
but not from any human to who cares not,
sees not, feels not, hears not, touches not.
Someone deeper. Consuming.
Like a fire, burning up the pain which is a part of me.
Although I’m not seen or heard,
I’m learning to see beyond the self appointed grave.
Religion says, “I’ll help yet at a distance so I’m not tainted or by your pain.”
Yet they see not their own pain, the depths of their God’s forgiveness.
Society says, “I’ll help! Yet stay away, I’m happy as my own. I refuse to see what I need or confront my own.”
Blinded by their own self-righteousness like the religious they blame they judge not.
These voices, quieter they become.
Slowly drowned out by the depths of the pain,
where I meet the Presence who loves.