Monthly Archives: November 2018

Dear November Notes:

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Dear November Notes,
As you slip away into crisp, frozen hills of December,
here’s what I’ve turned from stoned, into waters overflowing.
I’ve befriended rejection as it sat next to me. Something I’ve smoothly rubbed into beautiful furs of living.
As I am alive, the smiles of my children dazzle into snow-angels, playing in the snow. The curtains are full of posts notes. Notes of thanks, 21 days and counting. Abundance has met us in the worthiness of living, miracles-over- miracles, beyond-suffering.
Close my eyes on sorrow, open my eyes to rosy-cheeks,
Close my eyes on yesterday, open my eyes its morning
Close my eyes on the evening news, open my eyes/ blink- that’s a blessing
Close my eyes on the world open my eyes in peace
Close my eyes, citrus, and lavender, clothes are washing
 Open my eyes, I’ve got work to do
Clothes my eyes, a taste of life, cherries on my palette
Open my eyes, warmth in my veins
and here and now and new~kindness sis. Krissy

Bullies In the Family: Tough Love

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Sometimes love comes at a price,
sitting at the dinner table
morning coffee, beeswax jelly beans, and a newspaper
four legs giveaways, the years unattended in empty parking lots
unsupervised, unapprehended
many loves can’t afford to pay
everybody watching/nobody sees
brother smoking cigarettes in my room
 brother blowing smoke in my face
both hands around my neck/ he squeezing the life out
but who I got to tell/ if everybody in the family
one big bully and me
“don’t wear your emotions on your sleeves,
stop crying over spilled milk but this ain’t milk “
more like pure unadulterated hatred,
nicknamed me burnt, Witch/ I don’t answer
 I can take a few blows to the head/
macaroni’s getting cold/ I don’t want food or family
some futile leftover discussion/ how I should take the devil
in because he don’t have any place to go
After all, mama, if you invite the devil in, it will never leave
so this ain’t no invitation
only tough love, the well being of my safety/
and a humbled slice of peace of mind~kindness sis. Krissy

Dear Hope:

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Dear Hope, I’ve been extra careful not to use your name in vain. Or become too spirited too soon. Mama’s always said not to be getting my hopes up. Although I’ve often seen it come alive in little children. I think it’s because they’re closer to God than all of us. All I know, we could use a spell or two, even use Emily’s Dickinson’ “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all. ”

A dear expectation, of all this good. All that is miraculous. Drinking from fountains, flowing from the vines of healing trees. Fill our cups, God…

Hope for the nations
Hope for the homeless soldier
Hope for the abandon
Hope for the immigrant
Hope for the lonely
Hope for the friendless
Hope for the shut-in
Hope for the mothers
Hope for the motherless
Hope for the childless
for the dying
for the living
for the school teacher
for the police officer
for trauma victims
for social workers
for you and me
and those who have no hope ~kindness sister Krissy

Silent Rivers:

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For the first time in forever, I appreciated the silence. The humming heater gently soothing the cold air. The front door wide open, allowing the foggy steam to blanket a warmth to the door.

Meanwhile, daybreak went rogue. Stretched across all the shadows in the night  Then the soul-people gather themselves together huddled through tapered curtains of flesh.

A prize to be alive and not know it. Prize- dreams for the soul-people, dreams that die and are born again. Dreams, staying up all night. Dreams that turn souls into rivers.

rivers bursting through the cracks.
strong, lighthearted, genuine, persistent,
gullable steep, shallow memories.
walking rivers joined at the hip.

standing bodies
what’s eating these waters
in gutters bursting
half skating skeletons

American dreams eating us,
spittle down seeds something
we can grow
rivers, I suppose
un-used rivers
cold, chemicalized,
calculated tides but
what’s a river
with all our old shoes
torn, crunchy cereal boxes
tires, bloated fish
oil spills, garnish
sacred, holy prayers

rivers gotta run
gotta flood out ~kindness sis. Krissy

Day-Dream:

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Today I became the silent wonderer in my mind. Unconsciously, I wanted to be living the dream. You know the one, the happily-ever-after, sweeps you off your feet. And there you sit in the passenger side watching the driver steer the white drawn horses down the city street.
You turn and wave to people passing by. You let out a breath and it’s over back to reality sifting through the wreckage of my life. No, it’s not all bad but honey it’s no fairy tale.
Although life is a vapor of mysteries here’s where I’m thankful
thankful for the gate where the winter birds sit
thankful for the peace in my tiny home
thankful for the roof over my head
thankful for God who holds us all together
thankful for the rejection, starring me through my emails
thankful to keep writing
thankful for hope
thankful for good health
thankful for new and coming possibilities
thankful to finally make the change I’d like to see in the world.
and who knows, one day soon, I’ll be living the dream~kindness sis. Krissy

As Within:

God is both all of it and nothing of it. In essence, all of it. Then the mind can have none effect on the infinite God that lies within. None of it, known or will ever know, such great tender-fields that holds a mind, a world inside a world, beneath such beauty, in the midst chaos, inseparable stillness.

then I am  whole,
then I embrace,
then I exchange,

a little ” i ”

ignited,
endowed

“I am that I am.”
~kindness sis. krissy

No Loose Threads:

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In running for my very life. I’ve run from some things that didn’t need running from, only to wind up running again. Although the hills have laughed at me for some time now. I have not forgotten the lesson in climbing.

The hills have a message of its own. The temperature of the hills has pushed me back to the beginning. And I still climb, contending with its pressure. I pull. I ache. I met force with stumbling limbs over here over there.

All my life running is what I knew. To run out of my pain into fear. Run out of that into pressure. Running for my healing. Running to keep out the voices. Running the distance for my life.

Then I got tired sat still on that hill and I listened. Its glowing winds surpassing. Even the rocky steps relaxing, with green grass so sweet.

I could measure this small distance in defeat or finally,
I conclude the hills are me~kindness sis. Krissy

On The Verge of New:

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Many times, many times /till I had to give up the count
trying to love somebody/ let somebody love me
and there on the 23 bus stop
A slug crawling/ he trying to find it
Deeply his eyes rolled down into the sewer
slowly, softly/ can’t nobody here you
so dank, so much so
He gasped, I saw it in his eyes
been shot at the curb waiting for the 42 bus
its’ always late every Tuesday, around 6:30 it’ll be late
He might have lived if the bus came or somebody could’ve loved him
say man “don’t die, don’t fall like this”
too much of that happening so what another blk man dead

but I wanted to tell my awaiting self
hug your self/ ain’t nobody got time
loving myself
talking to myself
reaching myself
holding myself
smiling back at me
lending me out to other folks for a short while
until I needed myself again
this is plenty
this is love
calming finger-tips

calming wrinkles
calming eyes
calming lashes
calming whisper
calming pains
this is me, alive~kindness sis. Krissy