Monthly Archives: July 2016

Shadow Bones

wildflowers

I see you there in the shadows pretending you don’t see me.

I’m not there to hurt you, but to love you without question.

To you that may seem an impossible task because “Who’d love you?”

I’ll take out my soul light, holding it high in the air dissipating

The aura of unworthiness, the wall of hostile protection

The child that feels as lost as I have felt

I hear your cries in the dark as the nightmares scream

I’m not there to harm you, but to comfort your fears tenderly

That may feel unlikely considering the state you’re in

I’ll hold up my soul light, filled with love so the dark can’t have

Your rebirth into fruitfulness, your abundance like pomegranate

The child that screams with a voice now heard, like mine.

I feel your heart fighting as fiercely as a cornered animal

I’m not here to defeat you, but to support your victory

You believe you are broken, but I see the power of your will

I’ll offer my soul light as your shield as you fight for you

For your dreams, happiness, love, peace, your very spirit

That child that is frantic to stay safe knows me

I can’t offer redemption. I can’t even offer you a path.

What I can give you is my deepest support as you traverse

Acceptance of your divinity, your understanding of love

Your worthiness of compassion, your gift of kindness

I offer my soul light so you can find your own.

That child knows I am free, release the regrets

Bloom into the garden of unique flora and fauna.

Here, have some of my seeds.

Where is the Mayor?

I lost my identity. I lost the part of me that was so rich in gratitude, steeped in spirit that I rarely questioned my faith in love. I didn’t have to. Everywhere I was, love existed in abundance. Not because of me but because the light of people loving and giving in service to one another is a glorious testament that we are all one.

Then, I died. That sounds melodramatic, probably because it is, but it’s so terribly difficult to figure out my role here when I grieve the gift of support, encouragement, and guidance from some of the best people I’ve ever met. I know I was meant to find them so I could get past being mad at the Universe, so I could carry on my mission.

And yet, here I sit, a year after being ripped away from whom I thought I was, returning to the place I ran all over the country trying to refuse my roots. Not only am I back in my home state, but in my home town in my own house. I should be happy that my dreams have come true. My material blessings match what I had spiritually, the sense of blessing so deeply entrenched that I rarely felt poor.

With my news and social media blowing up with violence and hatred, it hurts to think or breathe. I can’t know what melanin enhanced people truly go through, but I know silencing their voice is like slut shaming. I know what that feels like. The humiliation and condescending superiority of those in power creates a resentment towards their injustices, but likewise any human that would harm another with violence is hurting more than a quick probationary period.

I want to give. I want to serve. I want to celebrate and love life like there’s no tomorrow, for we aren’t promised that. I fearfully hoard hugs. I avoid serving. I avoid living my life because I’m terrified of losing it all over again.

“I’ve lost my identity.” I told my husband while I choked back sobs. “I don’t know who I am.”

“You didn’t lose your identity. Your people know who you are in Tennessee. The trick is to figure out how to get the people here to know your name. Show them the Mayor Mare magic.”

He’s right. I can’t find my tribe while hiding behind my front door. I need to find something to do. I’ve been lax in prayers and meditation. Perhaps looking inside myself for guidance would help. I’m tired of feeling lost. I need to hear my calling.