excelsior

gaze upon this broken world and forget not that i am near

yesterday the world fell on me i've been atlas for some time now holding the weight of the world  the sky on my shoulders  but yesterday it fell pinning me to the ground trapping me the weight  in all its power and glory trapped me  mocked me as i tried  to move push it off ignore it the more closed off to the pain the greater the burden  became  i tried to shut it out, but the pain in all its power and glory  drew blood from my veins tore the skin straight off  my bones it ate me up spit out the remains and buried the evidence buried me deep way down where no one would think to look

watch her as she walks across the room do you see her slumped shoulders the way her back curves like the crescent moon her pain etched into her very being watch her move her burdened limbs cutting through the negative space carving her story that almost instantly vanishes into thin air watch her sit with a sigh as she relaxes  into the couch  disappearing into the cushions her body dissolving into nothing watch her as she picks herself up and pushes through the webs the world has woven around her watch her watch her rise 

we all come from twisted roots an identity crisis? ah, that’s nothing new- bridging cultures countries  continents a daily script we endlessly run through- displaced misplaced a vortex of internal insecurity coupled with mirthless monologues that attempt to define me I never connected with the soil of my father’s birth and yet here living in my mother’s country everything rejects me don’t feign you understand me don’t claim you really listen to me don’t pretend you incorporate me am I forever doomed to a hyphenated reality? how come you don’t even try to accept my version of me my being feels rejected like a donated organ in a foreign body- I am not an immigrant half of my DNA was birthed in the spirit of eternal freedom yet that freedom doesn’t extend to my religion the other half of my DNA was also birthed in a vilified spirit of freedom but that form of freedom lacks the room to grow to breathe in- I breathe in politician’s ignorant sound bites claims that my people are terroris...

he likened me to a flower as he sought to win my heart I was to him soft and delicate with a fragrance reminiscent of heaven chuckling softly, I asked if all women were flowers with light, silky petals and musky scents   but what of a rose I asked her thorns draw blood if enemies attack and what of the gladiolus her vertical blooms embodying the sword wielded by the warrior’s will and what of jewelweed or stinging nettle larkspur, and nightshade all beautiful, but deadly no harm intended unless disturbed will you still liken me to a flower I asked his silence, now that you see all the power a delicate bloom may wield

i am a wanderer a nomad lost in this world constantly seeking  that spark of connection any telltale sign of the presence. my dusty shoes had traveled far and wide when they stumbled upon the threshold of the gate of all gates but yet they were still seeking that  presence. any fool would have felt the presence of light  but hearts hardened by time distance and pain still could not find the  peace.  maybe i thought, as i ran my chapped hands over the marble in the alcove of  prayer, maybe it is not about finding the spark. maybe the spark lives within us and those who are truly at  peace  have found a way to kindle their spark. when i ignited my spark in the courtyard of the King the presence awoke unfurled its divine wings and with mercy the skies opened above me.