A tiny moment to capture
all the light I’d found
the warmth of summer
the morning’ dew, bursting-light
winter’s whites on the ground
Glass crack candles
wax pouring out
Hand-me-down prayers of the saints
translating tears/ of blood and faith
tell it to the river
where the river parts ways
The sky carry waters
since I could remember
our prayers became a sanctuary
flimsy little tears setting sail
When I think of a prayer I think
of women who slay dragons in their sleep
I think of the elder mothers/ she placed her faith in me
Held it to the river/ placed sanctuary in my soul
Home is prayer, in time I’d get back there
hold up that light/strike aflame or three
anchor my knees for those alone
fighting invisible dragons
a tiny prayer even
the smallest one
holds all the light
I’ve found~kindness sis. Krissy
I’d run into myself, at the top of a windy hill.
Hands raised to the sky.
I wanted to feel crisp cool winds.
I needed to scream at the top of my lungs.
Then I was alive as the earth breathes.
It was in me.
pulsating, reverberating, love~your Kindness sis. Krissy
In the end, I’m back to the beginning. As though I’d never left, never set the footing right. Or it may be because of the fall, I know now, how it feels to rise. Watch a crimson red sky for the first time and wonder.
Or feel rainfall on one side of the street and the other side remains dry. To have everything you’ve ever dreamed of, not the house, car, nor loads of money in the bank but to have a fulfillment of spiritual awakening, that stillness, utter peace, and the accord of all what is, what will ever be…
In that re-birth/ see God
watch God pleading with us
watch God transform creation into something
wonderful~your kindness sister Krissy
When the waters are full and they are bursting all over me
completely consumed with the mess of all my past lives
plenty of fears, plenty of snow-covered problems
those lives, I’d never thought it could be me
No use denying, plenty exposed now
No use hiding, what’s out of control
but I see it in you, you’ve got
petals in full bloom, where the marigolds grow
out of the depths of your spine, they are wings
for the trying out/ wings for the growing out
hopes on the vine now
plenty of love left in those veins~ your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley
When I was a little girl, mommy told me a story. One I never forgot. Now that I have two daughters of my own. I think it’s time I tell them.
She didn’t spare us the details. She never held back her darkest regrets. Her vulnerability became a relentless courage. One I could use, study even and grow towards a new story.
In the beginning, as young girls don’t know, I didn’t understand rape culture. I blamed it on ghosts. Mommy’s paranoia when it came to men. I said, “what’s the likelihood of it ever happening to me?”
Then one day, I was fifteen years old cooking chicken at my grandma’s house. The phone rang, I always played silly pranks for those who called the house.
I said, “Hello city morgue, you kill-em we chill-em!” But it was my grandma on the other end. she immediately replied. “Oh that’s what we do, now is it?”
I was startled and busted, “oh I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
“She fussed, just make sure dinner is ready and don’t burn my chicken. ” “Stop playing on my phone!” “Yes ma’am, okay.”
Afterward, I hung up. My brother and his friends walked in. One of which followed me into the kitchen. I didn’t think anything of it. Typically they smelled food and wanted to chow-down.
I told them the foods’ not ready. My grandma doesn’t want y’ all in the house when she gets off work. Of course, they didn’t listen. Nor did I see Nick take a knife and put it in his jacket. By this time, my brother and the rest of his friends are outside on the porch. Nick stayed behind to talk to me.
I said, “listen I’m sorry, I’m not interested.” He kept pushing the conversation. Meanwhile, I got grandma’s chicken just right. Every piece was cooked crisp and golden brown. I turned off the stove and tried to move past Nick.
I remember him pulling the knife on me. The sheer white curtains blowing by the air condition. I was lucky, blessed even. He pushed me down on the couch. I stared him down in the eyes. Nick heard the door open, my brother walked by in.
He jumped up as nothing happened. It could have been the worst moment of my life. After that, I believed my mother’s paranoia was no small ghostly-creature starring back at her on the other side of the room.
Before the age of fifteen, my mother tried to warn my sister and me. I wasn’t paying too much attention then. She expressed a moment that changed her life. Her brother-in-law was drunk. Mommy was sleeping in the other room when he raped her.
Eventually, the law caught up with him. My mother’s brother in law raped a 16-year-old girl and was given life in by the Mississippi courts.
Having said all this, I pray, God may my girls’ innocence remain intact. May they never experience this kind of trouble. May they always have the relentless courage to face any fear. May we stare them down in the face. May we all have the courage to tell our stories regardless of what society says.
Although I’ve had my doubts on how to get here. It may even seem sometimes like I’m not moving at all. A trend on circle upon circles. As I finally begin to practice gentleness with myself. I find this same gentleness, in which I am cared for.
Sometimes its space or presence
or a calm thought, a calm voice.
A small length to close my eyes and breathe in, then finally
letting the air go
I am at peace.~your Kindness sister Krissy
I’d thought I share this only because it heals and reminds me that we are so much more than we know.
Even when the world can’t understand
our language. Or see our persistent nature as healing:
ever surrendering, ever-being still. ~Kindness sister Krissy Mosley
It was a Sunday afternoon. The air was crisp and chilled. We’d all come straight home after worship. I had an eerie feeling, one that I just couldn’t shake.
Something of a memory I’d tripled, saran-wrapped. To make sure no one else, not even I could pry open but then, nothing could stop that feeling.
So I flung the door open. The succulent plant was where I left it. The living room light was still on. The children entertained themselves in the background. Soft dainty flares of citrus and vanilla added a nice touch. I knew I was home but as soon as I shut the door. I said, “Lord I could use some good news right now.”
The phone in my purse vibrated. I answered it. The voice on the other end sounded tired but peaceful.
That was my grandma’s name. All of my short life we’ve called her Shirley, not grandma. She preferred it. She wasn’t into being an old lady nor anybody’s’ grandma for that matter. Shirley was her name. She needed people to say it, so we did just that.
Me: “Hi Shirley”
Shirley: “When are you coming home?”
Me: “I’m thinking of coming to Texas in the spring. Why?
“Is everything okay?” I heard you were in the hospital.”
Shirley: “Just come home.”
Me: “I’ll be there before you know it.”
In early spring, I’d packed up my three little babies. I put my babies in the car. Said my prayers and drunk loads and loads of coffee on the road. Which did not settle the nerves, I think it was the coffee. I’m pretty sure it was.
I started seeing trees everywhere. Trees on the road. Trees crossing the roads. Trees waving as I drove by. Trees standing in the sun. Trees dancing in the distance. Trees walking out the National Forest. Trees beyond the horizon. Trees accompanying me onto the highway. Trees walking out of the midst. So many trees, they were talking to me.
After 72 long hours on the road. We made it back to San Antonio T.X.
Shirley held my youngest daughter in her hands. She had a stroke a few days before we arrived. She couldn’t speak.
As the nurse walked in, she said: “my, my, Shirley all these grandbabies are yours!” Shirley smiled. I brushed her hair through like old times. I remembered, she never liked the ends to frizz up. I made sure to get that part right.
I told her, “Shirley I didn’t have ten kids, as you wanted.”(inside joke) “I only had three and that boat has sailed. I wasn’t planning to have any more.” She laughed as if she could burst right-out of that sick bed. Get up and become her old self one more time.
It was the last time, I’d see Shirley alive. So now when I get that eerie feeling, I think of trees and Shirley.~your Kindness sister Krissy
Melt away into the seas of forgetfulness,
Shake my soul God
I’ve got tears in my pocket for safekeeping
ripped down the days of lost findings
lonely night birds/ hold my soul God
I don’t wanna force on a smile
I don’t wanna sing a sad song
don’t wanna go-on pretending
and you said,
I put a hole where your heart was
I blew fresh a wind to restore-us
I brought the angels/you saw them fly for the first time
I put your soul in my pocket for safekeeping
hold my hand chile/ we’ve got many, many lost seas here
this one is yours,
throw your hurts into the sea of forgetfulness
please believe me,
there is no need to carry this sea,
no need to bury those tears
I sing to you this night song,
I’ve pressed your tears into sweet wine
I shake your soul/ you come alive,
mine~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley