Truth

There’s a truth in all of us. This is the one we’re not quite proud of, a persistent thing that won’t disappear even though we’ve hidden it in the farthest and coldest recesses of our minds. We ignore it and yet it creeps in front of us like a contender who adamantly refuses to surrender the fight even though they are beaten and bleeding, broken and smashed beyond recognition. But we recognize it because it is our truth.

At some point, you correlate stagnancy and stillness, which the world has inched around you, with this truth. There’s a point when we exhaust the battle and we give in to accepting this truth. Understanding this truth, embracing it, is probably one of the greatest thing we can do for ourselves because that moment of surrender seems to be the pass to moving forward, for the world to suddenly open up and rejoice in the individual we are meant to be… the truth that one must be.

truth is the indigenous love,
the first occupiers repressed,
forgotten, depressed because
it is primary; and primitive often
castes doubts and distorts the image
in the mirror before me, of who and
what i need to be, instead, my
mission thwarted by reclusivity;
i downplayed the meaning, even
thought impossibility, but the god
inside refuses and stands up for me.
in faith, this occurs naturally;
truth reincarnates out of necessity

rise above

How lost we have become sometimes looking for answers when the answers are already inside of us. It is just a matter of taking the first step and making that choice to commit to it wholeheartedly. Only through this do we begin to chisel out the shape of who we really are, what we are meant to be. For we are more than what we are now, distracted and numbed individuals, afraid to feel and reach for the world. We are what our bodies have been telling us along… strong and capable individuals meant to achieve, meant to bring peace, meant to rise from the physical or spiritual poverty we live in.

rise above the horror
which conquers; release
from the mind what glues
you to the ground, when
light elevates and still
you refuse to rise…

rise to the level of
your love, that which
lives and propels you
from the bog, the
quicksand that pulls
you down

for no gravity
can attempt to shake
you from the clouds
where you belong;
when you believe so
shall you rise, rise
above the ground

Everyday is a Journey

What is a journey? Taking a trip somewhere and then coming back? Right? There’s always an association with leaving for an unfamiliar territory, possibly a faraway location and returning home with souvenirs, possibly emotionally charged or learned ones derived from the trip itself. A journey renews and transforms one somehow. Because of new perspectives, new heights sometimes reached, the mind is altered and we then look at the world in a different way. Perhaps, we come back a little more patient, a bit more forgiving. Despite leaving, I’m learning a journey doesn’t necessarily happen in a distant place. Sometimes, it just happens when we least expect it, like becoming suddenly ill and when we heal from it. Our spirit is thrown into a journey we may not have had time to take for ourselves. At that point, the stillness, quiet and rest from our temporary afflictions drive us towards a self- reflective journey where we are cornered to look nowhere else but deep inside ourselves, explore every nook and cranny so that we might expel not only the mucus and phlegm collecting in our core, but to cough out and fess up to all the habits that trap us and prevent us from living. Our temperature rises as we resist the truth, but only until we surrender and make that promise for change, in order to live the lives we are intended to live, do we break the fever and our bodies allay itself and align towards recovery. A journey towards change… what a blessing it is when we recognize it, especially when we are made to see that we are stronger than who we are, better than what we think we are. A journey transforms one and if this is the case, then everyday is a journey no doubt… it’s just a matter of whether we participate in what is being offered us.

pack my flesh, pack my soul…
into this light, plunge i and
swim towards You where i may
see my true colors beside this
gray i wear. my spirit yearns
for all the white it can behold,
the straightest line i can walk,
but i’ve been crooked and densely
worn in blue that even dances are
left untwirled, sugar unspun and
life unspectacular… free me from
this fever, this temperature rising
prison wall, push what phlegm still
plagues my vision and revive me from
this death haggling, and reset this
button in my head labeled truth

what goes around comes around…

Never kick someone when they are at their lowest, or when they are sick! That’s just really low… lower than mud or fertilizer underneath all that mud. However, when it does happen, there’s also no reason to rise to the level of those crafty and calculating individuals who tamper with peace, who dare shake the foundation where we stand. Fight it, take revenge against it, do what it is what we want to do so long as we are aware that every action garners a reaction. This is just the natural law. No matter how difficult the situation maybe, try and handle it in the most positive way! Send light their way… maybe they are acting in that way because they’ve been in the dark for so long. Because if they haven’t realized it by now… what goes around comes around!

where in the dark you struggle
and no light you can reach or
pull dares not lend itself
when most needed… there you
regurgitate such strange words,
the trickle of saliva bludgeons
with self-serving intentions
even as i am knocked to the
ground, limbs broken, bruised
but unscarred— leave me a
moment to let the fumes escape,
for until the smoke dissipates,
only then can i pray for you

Struggle

Everyday is a struggle. Just when I think I am calm, I start to loose it. I become irritated, annoyed, and it feels as though a splinter that cannot be tweezed out. It is bothersome, but it is a part of me, my nature, my lifetimes of learning…. All these negative habits I am trying to unlearn in order to reach that peace, that place of prayer where a thought can bless, bring peace to someone who crosses my mind.

even when I lie here
in the aftermath…
explosions, the decimation
least compares
to the heart forlorn,
smeared, saturated
with shame– the
liberation of my god
relies on my love
empowered by the light
inherent, whose hues
differ from yours through
years reincarnated:
I struggle towards
purity, honesty,
redemption, enlightenment

-mr gahon 6/3/14