This is one of the poems about my spiritual emergency that I’m starting now to generate:
A Gift Not to Fear Conflict
If I was a warrior healer poet entrepreneur and visionary,
I’d forsee how we can build a way in the world where it’s safe to be
Different. Ask questions, verify all the directions.
People think they want to make me
Just like them. But I was given a gift not to fear conflict and
I’ll keep pushing back against them all until my back’s against the wall
To say we all got abilities, nobilty to be dug up deep inside us, we’re princes.
We’re beauty in the dust, when people keep giving up on us, my teeth just come baring
Fight flaring out around us all this misery been pounding down,
the weight expounding out
Till I can’t hold no more, till I unfold what I thought I was before
it’s too late to turn back, I can’t remember who I even thought I was or would be.
Or how the power burned through the demons in the night who thought I could be
Taken. Do I wake up? Or have I been awake three days already?
Patterns swirling cross my brain, have I lost my soul the tears steaming, scalding,
to stop the scolding of this world molding when beauty opens all around me?
Insights so intense but filled with fear I would just be disabled,
my emotions unstable, always labeled,
and only drugs making me able to do anything, like those Hopeless Years,
When I lived without joy, a job, or friends, without being able to trust in my dreams
and in the darkest chasm away from the love of Him who made me
when I thought hearing answers to prayer was really just plain crazy?
But Joseph said, “All those Hopeless Years had to happen, so I could save lives.”
And his brothers learn responsibility and he learned to respond with ability beyond
The words Moses thought he wouldn’t have.
Of groaning pregnant nations finding the firstfruits
knowing it’s time to start sharing living proof
that we are all wanted. So I broke open that trap,
I found a way to get my back off that wall
And now my heart can finally start answering the call that’s eating me,
my people’s pleading need
And what’s inside me can finally gasp into existence.
So if I’m a warrior who do I fight?
The lies spread by fools who were afraid to challenge their own assumptions?
The wickedness in high places?
When people with gumption just be causing devastation?
Laziness and the destruction of this entire creation?
Or is the battle within, my own anger and sin, the fears I’ve given in
To? If my gift is not to fear conflict,
to keep pushing even when flat, exhausted, weak
Three nights without sleep against the wall,
And still see how people can stop their fall by learning a way to contribute,
I guess it will have to start by offering as tribute my own fears to believe.
That I’ve been redeemed and my weaknesses indeed are all just meant to be
So that’s the fight the battle the war, My fear of peace I give it release.
Over and over, I accept what I can be
So I wake up.