"Whenever you find tears in your eyes, especially unexpected tears, it is well to pay the closest attention. They are not only telling the secret of who you are, but more often than not of the mystery of where you have come from and are summoning you to where you should go next."
Frederick Buechner
WHISTLING IN THE DARK
When I was young I thought,
why can't I think like them,
my man Rah robbing girl's hearts in the Hood
with his band of Merry men,
maybe the signal I sent, was too intense,
a revolutionary vortex that forced femmes to acknowledge
the time they should have spent,
listening to their inner voice,
more or less a personal lack of choice,
either way, what has come to be,
despite my maturity, I had no choice to fall in love with you,
and you with me
The prophets tell, stories of spiritual sacrifice,
yet still, as adults, we traverse an aimless path
never thinking twice,
apples and cinnamon, sugar and spice,
interspliced with our belief in the Everlasting Christ,
how many are prepared to pay the price,
for being true to the Word,
and the voices we hear, so far away and near
No bridges burning, no ship on an angry sea capsized,
nothing to decide, no surprise,
just the rhythm of two hearts, not a single beat contrived,
when you arrived, we improvised,
struggling to find Sacred strength within the love that our soul's legitimized,
and yet still the day has arrived,
the sound of my voice, leaving your eyes moist
with tears of what could have been,
if we only thought like them,
but God made us special as we are,
say Amen
Who I am, not a mystery,
I merely prefer to keep my heart very close to me,
through all of the pain, and life's misery,
I waited for a special delivery,
I wanted so bad to achieve victory,
over fate, yet fate does not attempt to hate,
it just arrives much too late, to alter the state
of our destiny,
it's rather arbitrary, and married to chance,
and the chances are the voices we hear, so very clear
are far away, so very far away
"We need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts."
Charles Dickens
You have changed, my thought process,
before I thought I was, now I KNOW I rank amongst the best,
and before I lay, my head down to rest,
I speak with the angels you provided me, two by my side, two abreast,
so how can I feel, sad and depressed,
when I have been blessed with you, you and I left no promise of devotion,
or feelings of shared emotion unexpressed,
I have but one request,
like the beautiful angel Aliyah once sang remember,
"At Your Best, you are loved"
by a man with a voice, who had a choice,
to tempt fate and fall in love with an Ebony angel,
unfortunately, just a moment too late,
for fate to consumate our union
I have never been weak, for the strength I have sought,
cannot be manufactured by false pride,
bartered, sold at slave auction or bought,
and throughout a lifetime, fraught with feelings of being distraught,
I never neglected the lessons my Heavenly Father taught,
and yes, at times, I fought a limited ghetto vision,
but always made my choices based on decisions,
of my truth, and despite the onslaught,
I was never caught, never felt my life was all for naught,
so now I give Satan but a passing afterthought,
enhanced was my choice, to hear your voice,
whispering affirmations of an enduring love
Rescued by you, no, but made aware
that when all in love is unfair,
no one really cares,
once an inseparable pair, yet feel no despair,
for our bridge remains standing despite its current state of disrepair,
I declare, upon this day to forever be,
the by-product of our love's intensity,
to remain standing above the restless men
fighting for legitimacy,
I don't need nor desire the accolades,
I merely aspire to be the man that your voice made,
smile, even if it was for a short while
So many people playing games, so very few remain,
mature adults, choosing instead to be adolescents with soul's detained,
they refuse to retain,
the lessons taught by living a lifetime in the crucible of an adult reality,
they cannot refrain, from acting deranged,
feeling it their personal domain,
to spray paint on public walls, and acting in silly ways best catergorized
as insane,
but anger is sometimes love, and loneliness can be inhumane,
but only if we give in, to the sins
of a dissident voice,
we have a choice,
that's what freedom is,
that is what Christ and our ancestors gave so we can live,
and love voices of reason, that refuse to commit treason
"God will never plant the seed of His life upon the soil of a hard, unbroken spirit. He will only plant His seed where the conviction of His Spirit has brought brokeness, where the soil has been watered with the tears of repentance as well as tears of joy."
Alan Redpath
To have changed, yet remain committed to everlasting life,
to have faced, the cutting edge of the knife,
in a world rife with hatred and strife,
to stand, as a woman and a man,
and demand to be loved,
with nothing contrived, refusing to be deprived,
of the promises uttered from the dying lips of Jesus the Christ,
"Bless them Father, they know not what they do"
so true, so very true,
how many of us fail at living because we misconstrue,
the fact that blessings are not given, they are accrued,
by the voices we hear, when love is near,
the hear the everlasting voice, of true love,
carried upon the wings of a Sacred dove,
registered and trademarked by the Holy Spirit above
"Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting. He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed, shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him."
Psalm 126:5-6
All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at dgreaves.posterous.com.
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