Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
The tongues that could tell
the story of my childhood
all departed before
reciting it to me.
I’ve had to listen so very carefully
to my own voice
in order to discern the truth.
Blessings come in this way,
quietly, without fanfare
creeping up on you
all the moments
of your life,
until you realize they
are already there in the council
of day dreams and night prayers,
waiting patiently for your
eyes to be peeled open.
“Good morning Mary Sunshine!”
Mother used to chortle
as she jerked the bottom of
the white plastic shades,
making them jump and spin
and me bolt upright into
a belief that love is always
coupled with cruel acts
of kindness.
That one’s been keeping me
from waking up for a
long time now,
and it could explain why
I never put shades on
my windows,
oddly enough.
Of course there are other
examples,
and I raised myself in
the bouncy infant chair
of all of them.
Growing up has been a process
of severance from
what I never knew,
and a claiming of what has
always been my
inheritance.
We are worthy
by birthright.
Cast off the hand that attempts
to both slap and sooth,
whether it be yours
or someone else’s.
The Beloved speaks only in verses
that celebrate your
innermost beauty;
it knows from experience
that ugliness
can hide out in popular
places.
Refrain from reading
love letters written
with invisible ink.
Do not dance with someone
who intentionally
steps on your toes.
Admit that you know
when silence is being
used as a weapon
and walk out the proverbial door,
some of you - the real one,
into the presence of
singing birds.
I will make no apologies
for urging you to love yourself
enough to wait in the
vast open spaces of
uncertainty until
the true generosity
of spirit alights
upon your every cell.
No, I will not place
expectations as to the
form in which it
will come.
But it will come.
If you believe,
we are all worthy
by birthright.
© 2012-2020/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
brilliant. absolutely brilliant. and we as parents often don't reason the acts of cruelty in the every day actions we take. the raising of the window blind in this work, really was a sobering lesson. thank you .
ReplyDeleteThank you for your generous words, and your reflections. Sweet blessings to you and yours. JKR
ReplyDeleteSo rich! It speaks to me of the wounding of the feminine *by* the feminine, a topic I've been interested in for a long time. I remember "Good morning sunshine", as well as other tunes - with curtains being thrust open - a violent interruption of sleep.
ReplyDeleteAnd then throughout life the re-wounding of the feminine again and again *by* the feminine - through other women... A long-held pattern of the feminine evidently. How strange that we do that to each other - the feminine always re-wounding itself *through* itself...
"The Beloved speaks only in verses that celebrate your innermost beauty." Yes!
Wishing you sweet lullabies... Christine
Very nice.
ReplyDeleteThank you Jim. A deep bow...
DeleteThank you for your kind words and sharing Christine. I do believe the pattern of "oppressed" and "oppressor" within the context of the feminine deserves more conscious attention. It has become all to common in "Western culture"...for multiple reasons. Now is the time to heal the wounds in which it is deeply rooted.
ReplyDeleteBlessings to you dear lady