How many of us can stop and think about a time that we felt like we were sitting at a traffic light forever? I know with myself , it’s usually during a time that I didn’t plan my time well prior to leaving out of the house, and thus, have no margin whatsoever as a cushion. Every light seems longer. Sitting and waiting seems more drawn out and daunting. But, what about the traffic lights in life? Read the poem below to catch a glimpse of how that works.
I just recently released a book entitled, “My Blackness” over the weekend. This podcast episode gives you a little bit of background on the book, along with a reading of four different poems coming directly from the book. Just in case you missed the last episode, here is the link: What will they say about you and me?
My Blackness Podcast Outline:
The Why and How of Writing “My Blackness”
Reading of Four Poems
If you are interested in purchasing “My Blackness”, here is a link to the book on Amazon. The kindle version is available for free until midnight, August 6, 2020. Purchasing this book means that I will receive a commission.
On tomorrow, I will be celebrating the heavenly birthday of my grandmother, Beatrice, affectionately known to her family as Mudear. There isn’t one day that goes by that I don’t think of her “figures of speech, quotes, words of wisdom, or just a matter of fact response to any kind of drama that is going on. I got my first lesson on community from living in her tiny apartment in the projects. Her place was filled with smells of fried chicken, grease popping and cabinets that displayed it, hair pressing, and the love that she had for her family.
Photo by Shopify
I wrote the following poem ” My Blackness”, this past week, after dropping my car off for an oil change, and then waiting for my son to pick me up. I read the poem to my son, and he was surprised that I was able to write it so fast. His response, “Hmmm, I’m surprised that you didn’t need to have the perfect writing conditions present”. My response: “Yes, I know. Totally a God thing.” Me standing there on the sidewalk typing a poem into the Notes app on my phone? I then explained to him that I had read a blog post by a black blogger on the Black Lives Matter topic, particulary Juneteenth, and was immediately inspired to write poetry that helped to express my feelings about everything. Feelings about why we judge, what we judge, and what we think when we just don’t understand.
Well, here goes. Mudear, this is dedicated to you:
There is an art involving in breathing. To breathe is to let go, release the stress, and give your mind time to reflect on what your mind, body, and soul tells you. This poem does just that. It helps you to stop and focus on what breathing does for you along with helping you gain a better perspective.
We are definitely living in uncertain times. During these times, it is important to keep ourselves anchored in God and his promises. It is also crucial to establish a creative outlet for ourselves, and our kids if they are still at home. Practicing self-care will help our souls and our ability to be resilient when everything around us is on shaky ground. This poem”Season of Uncertainty”, deals with our life as it is right now worldwide. I am currently reminded of God’s goodness as I type this because there are several birds singing their tunes right outside my kitchen window. To God be the glory! Blessings my friends!
The word “triggered” has become so overly used in this day and age. For those of us who live with trauma/PTSD, triggers are real. And when they occur, gaining solid grounding is what’s needed in order to get past the episode. This poem, entitled, “Triggered” paints a vivid picture of what it’s like.
The act of forgiveness is what we have been commissioned to do. However, it isn’t an easy task. The process itself keeps taking us back to the cross and having us to question our own worthiness with the Savior. This poem reflects just that. God bless!
Through the earth and through the nation, the completion was heard.
“It is finished.”
Yes, he said it.
It was for you and for me.
The conniving and all the striving…
The shedding of blood…
Broke it free.
After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, “I thirst!” 29 Now a vessel full of sour wine was sitting there; and they filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on hyssop, and put it to His mouth. 30 So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!” And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit.
Sometimes life is just hard. We often find it difficult to understand why God allows certain things to happen. Sometimes he gives us the answer. Other times, he decides that it isn’t going to be revealed on this side of Heaven. We can always rest assured that God is always Good. He always Loves Us. He never changes. He will never forsake us. We can take all of these truths to the bank when everything else fails, and we don’t understand “His Will”.
photo by Nicole De Khors
His Will
It is his will.
We know it is.
Though anger swells.
And darkness stills.
It is his will.
When we can’t make sense.
Of the brokenness and loss that engulfs us like a fence.
It is his will.
That is pushing us to grow.
In devotion to him,
And the blessings he’ll bestow.
It is his will.
That we dream, and dream again.
He’s the Alpha and Omega.
The Beginning and The End.
And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.
My theme for the last few weeks has seemed to focus on our stories. It is so important to gain freedom from telling and owning our stories. I came up with a poem that I would like to share with you all for reflection.
