The Women Before Me and Our Demons

Saint or sinner
Saints or sinners
Pick your poison
Offer a prayer
How many of them
went to Heaven for me...

I think I thought to think...that I only, was the one adulteress in the lineage of my feminality, only to discover a distinct pathology of self-righteous infidelity. 
I sat to think and thought that only I, had committed the heaviest of sins and deviated from a heritage of holy sanctuary, to give away a sacred body to another mortal whom did not belong to me. Only to discover over hard drinks and sweet tea, that the wiles of me were innate, a passive transgression from the women who bled heavy long before me. 

Not that I want to give away the secrets buried with the dead or the secrets under the bed of the alive, but these demons were at the bedside of my creation, breathing heavy for me, long before I closed eyes, to form lips for a first kiss. But I would be remiss if I did not mention, I have a notice for every demon that would come to demean us, me. 

Notice to proceed--away from every corridor around my feet, every breath of air near to me. Flee! From my time. From the corners of my womb's memory and the daughter who came from within me. An eviction notice I give, to that which comes to perpetuate a promiscuous misery. To stir the extravagance of messy sheets and fantasies later draped in melancholy, for love is never birthed from unrequited affinity. 

All that to say, it is true, we repeat histories and destinies; nothing is new under the sun or the soft fall of rain. The curses are not far behind the generations to come; we owe the liberty and beauty of transparency to every daughter coming into her self-reality. The women before me, how many of them went to heaven for me? Them, seated up there in the right hand, interceding for me. Love is ahead. 

erm...It is Well

Love Lingers

Therefore, do not fight in your within
wrestling to unlearn the art of it;  
un-loving won't work 

Love lingers therefore, 
to bridge our disconnects, 
to keep us gentle in the rough
and merciful in the mess of things 

Accept that Love lingers
to remind us of our long forgotten selves
when we were just babes in the belly of life
long before we learned to suckle words
and starve feelings 

We were always born of a love undefiled
with a passionate purpose

Love lingers to keep us human 

erm...It is Well

Letter to the Young World

Dear Young World,

You don’t know me and I don’t know you. And that is fine. But I used to be you once upon a time…ago. I was fresh, born out of love, thrust into the world, with trust clenched in my left hand, and innocence in my right. I roamed Earth radiating beauty, purity, aliveness and security. The world, a delightful mystery. Little did I know, I would attract things to me that would jade my fortuity and mold my reality.

      I cast my pearls to swine who could not behold me, couldn’t appraise the jewel in me, castrated my thoughts, my sanity; everything that founded me. Allured by the difference in me, tempted to touch my peculiarity, but in the end, they would never remain to contain the vast wholeness of me. It’s a sad story—a short one too. Thereafter, roaming Earth looking for that specific someone to restore all the things lost in the one who came before. A cycle that would orbit until we descend to the bottom of Earth, six feet below and lower. But Beloved, you are not called to this end.

      Young world, I wish I could fast forward you to your latter years. Don’t let this fall on deaf ears. The treasures they hold far outweigh today’s troubles untold. Your new world is such a wonderful sight to see. When you re-member with your original identity. Your natural integrity. Your authentic reality. This is but one ripple in your beautiful, blue sea of eternity. Wade into the water, baptize yourself clean. Change your vision and speak your desirables. You are far more capable than imaginable.

      From my heart, I implore you to set aside the weight that does burden you. And liberate yourself from a love that chokes you. And before you speak, tis easier to say than do, know that you have the power to create and command the quality of life that suits you. It only requires an abandon of everything that does not serve you. A loyalty to your higher being and the pure love you were birthed through—should be what you bring back to you. Relinquish what is not yours, to receive what is designed for you. You will continue to struggle with what is because you won’t have it. But you will never change it. And all your strength will never force it. You will gain more with your malleable might when you rest with what it is and surrender to what it is not.

      Young world, I speak from the other side of you. I speak from tried and true. And I speak to the future you. You have been broken open to contain more love than you will know what to do. But in the todays that you have now, honor yourself, love your life, savor your youth. Attend to your heart’s healing and your emotions’ mending. Protect your sacred spirit. Define your journey and the marvelous love story you will someday recount to the younger you. What you seek is attainable, just not in the direction of your short-sighted view. Look ahead young world. See yourself ahead. You are beloved! You are worthy of everything made by the King. 

Sincerely, 
A Wiser You

erm...It is Well

Love and Need, A Soliloquy

Love is, in fact an intensification of life, a completeness, a fullness, a wholeness of life...
We do not become fully human until we give ourselves to each other in love.*

That's what he said.
If only to live and breath in this love, I would, I have...
given morsels of myself away in ways that have left me incomplete and missing.
My wholeness full of holes.
My intellect challenged through the encounters--empty.
My integrity diminished from the commune with the counterfeit.
And yes, this mortal life, has been intense in the most severe of ways,
to become human with one's who have not touched into the deep of their own humanity.
Those ones who disregard the heart's bleed.
And when this one has run into shell upon shell of bodies,
climbing mere husk for skin hiding shriveled beings, and hardened hearts,
where does one such as self search for love? 
Because someone told me, I came into this world to love indeed.
And with this my soul is well, but for the but...
But my soul cries out still, with who and for when? 
The answer: from the within.
I look to the intensification and gratification and actualization
for this full, robust, transformative love from none other than my within.
To encounter, respond and commune with myself.
Until...unison.
Because despite the full bloom within,
I still seek to water the bud in another...

erm...It is Well

*He who said is Thomas Merton

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