Monday, April 20, 2015

No. 8 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month (playing catchup)

I'm a bit behind with my writing. So this is my time to play catchup. I'll try to roll them out. These pieces will be old pieces I've gathered, pieces lingering in my queue, on my phone, etc. Short poems, haikus. Things of the like. 

The one below was written out of my despair. My fight for freedom from my various pains. And my calling to help other people get free. Enjoy!

Glass Houses and a Sledgehammer

There's an overwhelming heaviness of heart I carry.

It is at times fleeting, and then I'm okay. Other times, it bores through me like a piercing gaze…not akin to that of a lover.

I feel I'm sitting in an empty glass house with no stones and a sledgehammer too heavy for me to swing and set myself free.

I'm left with my thoughts. I'm left with my own words, weaponized to be unkind to myself. And this heavy, heavy hammer.

It is far more than I can stand to lift. It is old. It is rugged. It is splintery and rusted. And while quite difficult and painful to manage, it is the only thing that will get me out of this place.

I try, many a time, to no avail to lift this aid of liberation. I grow weary. I cry. I fail. So I sit, with this hammer lightly grasped wondering how I will ever manage to get out of here. For I am too weak. I am not strong enough to do this in my own might…

If I were to escape, what about the shards of glass? What about the pain of actually climbing out? What about what lies on the other side of these walls? Can I handle it?

My thoughts…

My questions…

My doubts…

I am left with them and this heavy, heavy hammer--the only thing that can set me free.

Where do I find strength to use the only tool given me?

The tool…

I strengthen myself by carrying this tool. I bear its heaviness. I endure the splinters. I embrace the callouses. And with this comes renewal of the mind…a mental and spiritual Bearing, Endurance and Embrace like no other. I build the valor necessary to heave this tool as I will.

And break free…

Glass at my feet, limbs a bit scarred, hammer in hand, walking to the next glass house.

And let us rejoice and exult in our hope of experiencing and enjoying the glory of God.
Moreover [let us also be full of joy now!] let us exult and triumph in our troubles and rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that pressure and affliction and hardship produce patient and unswerving endurance.
And endurance (fortitude) develops maturity of character (approved faith and tried integrity). And character [of this sort] produces [the habit of] joyful and confident hope of eternal salvation.

Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us.
Romans 5:2-5 (AMP) 

Friday, April 17, 2015

No. 7 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

Not Here For It.

I am not here to appease the masses
of people who cry buckets of privileged tears
Neither am I here to trapeze to and fro to coddle stubborn asses
who are so [willingly] oblivious in their privilege that they won't admit their fears
That maybe, perhaps they have been wrong this whole time
That quite possibly, most definitely not all these unarmed Indigenous peoples committed crimes
That Tanisha Brown's death was justly ruled a homicide
and her killer is walking free; they just let dude slide
That an unsuspecting Rekia Boyd was killed by an off-duty officer
with no justification but 'suspicion' when he hauled off and shot her
That Trayvon Martin really was just buying Skittles and Arizona iced tea
and met his untimely demise at the hands of a vigilante creep
That an officer--erm--plainclothesman brought Eric Garner [with an illegal chokehold] to his death
as the man cried out: I. Can't. Breathe. He took his final breath
That an unarmed Michael Brown's misdemeanors should never have warranted a death sentence,
but this officer who killed him execution style, shot him--and meant it
That Tamir Rice and his toy gun were simply having (perhaps foolish) but boyish fun
yet, 15 seconds on the scene, cop discharged murderous bullets from his gun
How do you explain 'he looked about 20' to a 12-year-old boy's Mum

Just in case you were wondering where this is coming from
I would explain
But at this point, I'm tired
Tired of saying the same damn thang

If you can't find wrong in a justice system that vindicates the killing of unarmed human beings...
Wake. The eff. Up.
I am not here to protect your vain feelings

Mirakol Smith, April 17, 2015

No. 6 of my 30 in 15 for National Poetry Month

Good Ground

There are times when I feel I'm brittle, dry, barren.

I wonder if the life I know was predestined will spring up from me.

Am I beyond reparation?

This soil of mine…cracked, thirsting for more…

Will it ever reveal new life?

It becomes a bit cumbersome for a bud with little hope

To wonder if it'll ever come into full bloom.

Seeds have been sown.

Weeds are being pulled.

Thorns are gradually being snipped away.

Intermittent sunshine and rain.

Just when there seemed to be no hope in this arid land

God breaks open the heavens, and pours out His blessings.

He is not withholding his greatness from His people.

Somebody prayed.

And I am reminded of a word whispered to me before one Sunday service…

"You are good ground."

While damp, muddy, and a bit messy…good ground, indeed.

If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave,and require of necessity My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land. Now My eyes will be open and My ears attentive to prayer offered in this place. For I have chosen and sanctified (set apart for holy use) this house, that My Name may be here forever, and My eyes and My heart will be here perpetually.
2 Chronicles 7:14-16 (AMP)

But He said to me, My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is enough for you [sufficient against any danger and enables you to bear the trouble manfully]; for Mystrength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in [your] weakness. Therefore, I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses and infirmities, that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!
2 Corinthians 12:9