
Day21 #WritingMyselfWhole: C’mon my Soul ~don’t get tired…. video added Motivational Prayers in poetry

when rain speaks she has no shallow dexterity
she holds the bosom of skies in peaceful mothering’s
broken drops of purpose, going back before the days of moses,
she smells familiar, like the beginning,
a leaping exodus, barring wide -stirrings
billows, openings and moaning’s to songs of mercy
ditty-breaks, of breathing rain,
heaving -heavy her chorus, of holy wonder,
dimensions and multitudes will look upon her…
she is poet, and prophet,
falling with the sunrise, and rising with the
night sky.
We go-on living, on our Mothers’ Prayers….
From time to time, the person I no longer -am has come to say goodbye. And it’s okay. I want the old me to know. I see you. Bowed head, shrinking back. Third-degree burn on your right hand. I see you. Oh! How have we grown as the years have gone on.
The scars I was carrying have no weight on who I am now. I won’t dismiss the facts. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs. And the trail of deaths runs deep.
I have come back to take you by the hand, to lead you into a glorious departure. I’m better now, as are you. The little girl in me is cheering, every scar, every wounded hole, every dark night of the soul, We are the answered prayers of treacherous nights. We are the songs of holy grail, that’s right!
it’s’ time you know,
I whispered you into that holy-goodnight,
I smiled at you, at thought of your transmission,
I played this verse in your remembrance,
a sway of nod, impermenament,
There’s a new story to hum,
off key needs a bit of tuning though,
I have a good-good feeling, doe!
in gitty-pockets like butterflies
take the wings of the morning,
I realize I am life’s unpretentious dance,
an ocean-breath on a life-time of chance
churning fragile into fragrant, woody resinous
drink from my own homemade cistern,
eternal resilient- taverns of waters,
are always flowing, always leading
me home.
This time last year, I was dealing with so much loss. Life was slowly eating away at me. I told myself if I was to survive, I would need to make mental- changes. For me, that’s getting back to the basics. And dragging my kids along for the ride. Hoping they’d be better too.
There’s still much work to be done. A few days ago, I was sitting in a meditative state. When I heard a whisper “there’s nothing eating you.” As I opened my eyes, I looked around, no one’s in the room. That’s when I knew the changes I’m making are bringing in this new way of being. As I let go of old habits, becoming more aware of unwanted cycles. Embracing what is, the things I can’t change. Releasing old ideas that no longer serve me. I give myself permission to relax, I give myself permission, that it’s okay to feel everything, and it’s okay to let everything be as it is. As I now, let go. I give myself permission to let the light carry me.
Some things are changing…
All of my past eczema, itchiness has cleared up. I’m not as restless as I used to be, my A -personality type can finally relax. Woo-sah!
Here’s My list of six things that’s working for me:
* keeping an email journal by writing an email to me (no more excuses of not keeping a journal)
* pause before each next thing taking three to five breaths in the car, in the kitchen, etc.
* playing the old inspirational- spirituals brought my soul back from a dark place
* stay on a clean eating path – for me no sugar, no coffee, no junk,
* family time, and time for myself – that includes healing movements
* And trading in my yelling for a few Woo-sah, throughout the day (parents’ you understand)
Taking in that first catch of rays on the rise.
A glimpse of gratitude of surprise,
Yes it’s true!
my eyes, behold such a splendor,
entire skies, kiss night away
a drink of drinks’ bluish -of holy taste.
A bow to my head to honor this day,
lifting the moral burdens of those –
suffering, I pray.
may it be so, a life so full,
pouring out its’ own release
may it be so,
rolling- waves of miracles to those in need
warm arms of comfort,
fields of love and safety
surround us all
may it be so,
may it be so,
My deepest desire, to sit inside
a single teardrop, to know the deepest thing from tears
manna from heaven, to fall inside,
witness the chime and bell. A tall tale of woes,
mewling, cooing, bursting little things
have you ever cried over a box of chocolates
have you ever put your best foot forward,
have you ever had a silent scream,
ball up inside fetus position,
returned -incarnations,- it be-
rain from my own soul, nana’s scent,
mascara running, leading a midnight of
stars, tangent pearls of rivers streaming
right in my own front yard. And just when you thought
you were finished, an army of one, made you surrender, wave the
white flag, shimmed you- upside down, say its’ name,
I’m crying, and I’m proud.
Poet Krissy Mosley
All night long I sat up listening to the sky
breaking herself into the day
clapping,moans, and thunderous -bay
causing me to wake, I stood outside
about half- a while,
listening to the sky pray.
eeking,and sinking heavy
emanations abundantly -full
smiling-rain,
fragrantly , she smelled like roses
picked after -thorns,
she smelled familiar like I knew her,
rain has descendants – tribal lessons on-the-go
on sidewalks you dare not be a child at heart and pass
concrete puddles, splashing into the green-glass,
beatitudes of leaks to bless your home,
of wet wood, and floors to drip
O’ you thirsty soul
you will sing -showers of blessings
even me, let some drops now fall on me
To pray you in the morning
as you reach the highest you
blue moons make magic awakenings
so rare, it only finds -you
at the moment of your whole self
anchored in the sweetest surprise of the gifts
that you are breathing in the sparkling fleet of angels
that ride, to carry into
God aspirations, breathing out -your soul is prosperous
and the bluebird sings her prayers in agreement
in answered prayers fields that moment you begin to pray
the prayer is heard, God thinking good- God thoughts about you
salt of the earth, a sound of many oceans, skipping out into the ethers’
leaping joy -glory- bearing-joy, the burning bush, is always with you
is always who you are,
so take off your shoes, you are
holy ground,
holy ground.
you are.
Let this poem, be the poem that finally
swallows my ego,
where i have died a thousand and one
deaths, only to die again tomorrow,
Let this poem be the blade of judgment,
and bring back a compassionate plea,
blessed be the ointment of my soul,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
tears falling like monsoons out of season,
and I will know how it feels to feel,
broken like the alabaster box at the feet of Jesus,
and I will know how it feels to feel alive,
like the woman with the issued of blood,
twelve long years bleeding out
this single prayer,
and I will know this prayer sits at
the door, patiently waiting for me,
to come
home. Poet Krissy Mosley video created and spoken by me
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