H,
The early morning birds of Monday.
I hope you had a weekend of weekends. I was a little ill but nothing that could
kill me. It put me in one place long enough to read and watch and listen. I also
began to write poetry again. I thought I would share some of them with you
during the week.
Here goes, this is “the
silent art of selflessness”:
If you could imagine this,
You are a tree
Or a rock
Or a boulder
Or a group of things
All undefined
If you could taste this
Know this
Be this and conquer
Find solace knowing you are not
Black, white, purple or green
There is something else going on here
Would you be so selfish?
If you knew that you were free
Or something like that. I tried
to be a teenager again discovering the inevitability of writing for me. I thought
I would run out of words at some point. That kept me from writing for a while. I
was over thinking it. I was afraid of being myself. I wanted to be normal in
the sense in which no one is. I wanted to have no story and no way to explain
myself. That was the moment of surrender for me. When I discovered it was not
only acceptable to be yourself before God but it was mandatory. Now, since we
have crossed that almighty bridge, it may be useful now to learn to be
ourselves before the world.
Monday morning…
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