Tag Archives: peace

My Help….

And now picking up our knees,
We sing til daylight,
Comes for us…

Come On IN This House ( its gonna rain) Stay Safe!

Dear God seems like the whole world’s- up and went to the hospital..

and those that are alone, with cellphones and text -still perplexed

“dismayed afraid of the cough “‘

a spiff, or a wrong whistle

You made the flea and the ocean’

the spec of moon dust and the hurricane

paired each sky with its’ own perfected rainbow

and so as we stay in the boat

it might be 40 days and 40 nights

it might be the wilderness or red sea

but God send

back the dove – or the sparrow

with green olive branches

in her beak,

I still believe

you watch over me…

A Call Of Grace

 There is a surrender under pain.

It flows gently like water.

From the cusp of shoulders to the bed of ruddy nails.

Things -forgotten. Things we left unsaid.

Made in sparkling white folds and deep dark trimmings. 

Its’ grace of the morning.

Grace that comes soflty and calling,

grace that leads me home

kindness sister Krissy

Having You There Makes the Difference: In other words – We Need You to Imagine…

Re-imagining myself as a writer, by grace, I am alive. Writing the script of my life -sifting through warm, dark, soil. Tending to the lumps that shape pages, where I’ve been, where I’m headed, how I’m still changing.

On the morning of discover,

I am the afro-haired girl

with friends of freedom,

we are soulmates,

in good company, we are miracles of change,

aggrandized gold, sprouting through the cracks

bountiful seedlings, dancing across the Alantic,

arising, gas-lighting stars bursting with higher thinking

bursting outside, with ladders of forgiveness.

kindness is our resource,

love is, its native power

hope is our brother

wisdom is our Mother

riding on the wings of the Cardinal

Some Folks Say They Won’t Talk about It: aka I Say, I’m not ashamed” There Are Rainbows around Dark Corners.

IN memory of The Poem, sung By Billie Holiday “Strange Fruit”

Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant South
The bulgin’ eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burnin’ flesh

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop

In the beginning, of the long dark, frosty night. I stood watching the angelic clouds, beautiful angels hold gatherings-surroundings of the same dark city. Deeper and deeper- angels brought us safely across bridges and stoic mountains holding our dark past within its grooves.

We over came the hatred of ourselves. The hatred of our skin’s- bitter fruit. Strange things, “scented Magnolias sweet and fresh” the eyes of the south, the burning of the mouth and “blood at the root.” Hold out your tongue, chile,’ don’t cut it out.

The soul of black bodies, the soul of white folk, marching,

“Jim crow” behind us,

all the while,

the cross before us.

and we made it,

some places, we bore the heat of the chain,

some bore slavery at its shame, and we made it,

somebodies’ son, somebodies daughter, “swinging on the poplar trees”,

the road are swollen, some, no road at all.

Still, we made it

and all the while, there were “splinters, tacks and boards torn-up”.

We never stop, we never sat down.

and now, my dear chile’, with the road before us, we’ll hold on,

we” hold on chile’.

kindness sister Krissy Mosley

Running Back To You, aka: God has Never Left Me Alone

In the south, way-way back in the woods stood my old -home-church. A small off-white building. Where I learn to play the drums, direct the youth choir and for the life of me- I don’t know why, I do believe.

I would take off my Sunday shoes and race on that dusty- dirt road. Covered in dirt from the waist down. Felt like, I did, some of my best running back at that ole’ church.

I remember the hot sweaty air, accumulating down into my off white stockings. My off white stockings slipping pass my hips. My long piano fingers -pinching my waistline for dear life. All I wanted to do was win.

Kick my heels back, point my chin to the sky, taste sweet nothings’ in the breeze, close my eyes and feel like I’ve been running for miles, only to go fifteen meters toward the church steps.

Dust off my ruffled black skirt and walk up the stairs like the wind had been knocked out of me. All the while I could hear the joyous music of praise and jubilee.

in the morning, high above the air

clouds touching the endless hopes of glory

ours souls talk,

running out of words,

falling flat on our faces,

tender calling, oh’ to touch

the hem of his garment.

be made whole, in love

be made whole, in laughter,

be made whole, in grace,

be made whole, in wellness

be made whole, in age,

be made whole, in spirit

your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

Drawing close to the Spirit… Cry of My Spirit

The spirit of peace moves, where there is chaos it will cease

The spirit of love moves, where there is hatred it will cease

The spirit of kindness moves, where there suffering it will cease

The spirit of hope moves, where is helplessness it will cease

The spirit of gentleness moves, where there is loss, there will be comfort,

covering multitudes,

covering disasters,

covering failures,

it moves

“with healing in its wings”

kindness sister Krissy