Can't stop me

Did you just
try to stop me?
that's funny
you certainly interrupted me
but you will never (ever) stop me
You may delay me
but you will never stop me
You see, like Sister Harriet
I know where I am headed
And I am patient
because freedom is nigh me
and won't be denied me
So, please know
you may delay me
you may even inconvenience me
but you can never
ever
stop
me

There is a path
that I am traveling
and sometimes
travailing
but with a pillar of fire
lighting the way
I can see the terrain
ahead of me
and with that pillar of fire
burning the past away
I can no longer see what is behind me
so I just keep moving
and though you try me
you may delay me
you may even inconvenience me
but you can never
ever
stop
me

Letter to my 15 year old self

Letter to my younger self

Dear Carla,

If this time travel experiment goes well, you won't need me to write this letter to you when I...you...we...are 43. Right now, you are just 15 and you are trying to make sense of what has happened to you. You think that being good is enough and so you keep measuring yourself against a fictional standard for "good" that changes faster than you can imagine. (And I do mean imagine!) You are going to make yourself physically ill if you continue this way. You are enough of a wordsmith even at this age to know how vague "good" is. Worry less about being "good" and just be you. Trust me, you are so much more than enough for anything, any task, and surely anyone! There is so much God in you that you are more than enough just by showing up! Learn to embrace yourself from that Godly (NOT RELIGIOUS) perspective, please.

This is going to sound odd, but you must find a way to listen to (as in honor) your mother without letting her take up residence in your head. Think your own thoughts or you will end up living the life that she creates for you with her words. She means to make you better though her words hurt you. Her words are for and from her life, not yours. Your words are your gift and you must release that gift and neutralize the pain you feel from the words of others. Go get that purple spiral notebook right now and begin writing. Just write whatever is on your mind. Write feverishly every day until you find that you have exhausted your supply of words. (Surprise! It won't ever happen! That's the gift!) There are always more words. You will learn to choose them wisely later. For now, just let them run wild on the page. Give them the freedom that you long for. Don't edit, just write. Just write. Write what happened. Write what didn't happen. Write what you wish had happened. Write your police report so that you can carefully and honestly express what happened when the time comes. Then write your prayer to God and in due time, you will see your tears turn from water to wine. You can't show everything to everyone but you should probably show your drama teacher. She will bless you immensely.

Speaking of Drama, you do not belong on the stage crew! You belong on stage. So act. Speak. Practice. Use the voice that is threatening to retreat in this very moment. Connect with Dwayne, Malcolm and Noelle. They have something that you can learn from. They are free and expressive in ways that you can be but tend to shy away from for some reason. You think that you can "only be the smart church girl" and somehow you link that to the false belief that you have to hide because of what happened to you. It was never your fault. Nothing about it was your fault and you have an amazing inner strength for not dying in the moment. You have an amazing strength for walking all those miles back home and being unafraid to live the rest of your life. You have an amazing strength for simply telling people when you knew what their reaction would be and again I remind you, it was never your fault. They don't know that so please forgive them for the ways in which they can only act on what they know. You do the same thing, so be gentle and generous with them and with yourself. Your strength will serve you later when you are no longer fragile and feel a need to protect yourself. You will see. That strength will show up when you are able to tell the story and stand straight and flat-footed and tell your story without reliving the pain. You'll see. (And you will smile because you will have the power to release everyone in the room from their associated pain. That's when the water will have turned into wine and you will serve the guests the best that they have ever tasted.) Whew. That's a lot, right? I know.

I think that I would like to write more to you but I am going to stop for now. I love you and I pray that you learn to love yourself deeply, fully, and passionately. You'll need that love to fight the hate that surrounds you in places I will point out later. This is enough for now. Hug yourself for me. (Ha! Ha! I can see you...me now, curled up on the floor with that corduroy pillow between our back and the radiator which is surely kicking some good heat right about now. The stereo is probably on WBLS and you have no idea how safe you are in that house with those crazy old people who love you and the German Shepherd who sleeps under your window because he is your guardian. Rest easy tonight. You've got a lot of living to do tomorrow!)

I love you...me...us!
The older, wiser, Carla

This Thing...This Ring

This thing. This ring. With this ring, I thee wed.
Now this ring rests next to the bed...
In a box...in its final resting place.
The ring, the thing in the box by the bed...is dead.

The circle symbolized a love unbroken.
The minister asked God to bless this small token.
I never dreamed it would turn into a story by Tolkien.
The vows, the promises all shattered and broken.

This ring that I bought...I want my money back.
The marriage a sham. The dress should have been black
You know, black and blue like the ones to me from you?
This ring. This thing.

Yes with this ring, I thee did wed.
Because you believed in the ring, I almost ended up dead.
Damn this ring and those vows because Lord knows I tried.
Damn this ring and those vows for the nights that I cried.

A band of white gold...fingers in a stranglehold
My world will now unfold...
My story will be told...
In weddings, vows and God, I do still believe...

But from this ring, from this thing...
I've found my reprieve...

Reverendsister's Ink 2010

Eavesdropping

Eavesdropping
​
I have never lived my own life until now. I have always lived someone else’s vision for my life. Being the good girl meant denying my own feelings and my own desires and focusing on what made other people happy. I now understand that part of being whole means knowing with certainty that doing what others want me to do puts undue pressure on me. That pressure, as you may know from basic scientific principles, caused my foundation to crack. The weight of self-denial was greater than what I was built to handle. These small cracks were invisible at first, but as the pressure increased, the cracks grew larger and more substantial. I tried to patch them from time to time, but as you might imagine, I can’t fix what I can’t find or see, so the cracks spread like wildfire and my efforts were ineffective against the external pressure and internal damage. This kind of damage cannot be repaired with a do-it-yourself mentality. An expert must be called in and entrusted to make the repairs.
​Your love has seeped into the cracks and filled them so that they are not only repaired but the foundation is once again fortified. The once shattered heart that once beat for others is now returned to me so that I can not only love others, but also love myself. Like liquid gold, your love has run down into those crevices caused by years of hurt and pain and filled them up so that my heart is stronger. It feels supported by the love you give and bring to me. My heart is strengthened by your love. My heart feels comforted by your love. Because of your love for me, I have learned how to be brave. I have learned how to fight. I have learned how to protect myself from harm but I have also learned how to open my heart to the one who has earned my trust, my love and my full devotion.
​ Loving you has made me a better person in many ways but it has also caused me to take inventory of my own flaws and shortcomings. I know it is hard to start over and I appreciate how you have taught me to open my heart to something good. I have learned from you how to love unselfishly. I used to try to love others but what I ended up doing was just putting myself in harm’s way. I gave too much of myself away without considering the consequences. I expected others to give back and accepted the little trinkets that they gave in place of the honest space inside that I desired. You have opened yourself up to me and allowed me to hold your heart in my hand. Sometimes, it seems like your heart has had to beat for both of us. Can you imagine how incredible it feels to have someone else’s heart beating for you? Sometimes I feel so weak that I can’t move but then I think of you and find a spark of strength that ignites my motivation…like right now.

Delighting in the Daniel Fast

Delighting in the Daniel Fast


It is that time of year again. That time when church congregations seek a Word from The Lord via the Daniel Fast. It is also a time of wringing of hands and whining and complaining...unless, of course, you are the lone vegan in your congregation and you are excited because this will be easy since it's your basic diet already! (Umm...yeah, I'm not vegan at all and so the thought of no bacon, bread, coffee, or chocolate for 21 days is a bit daunting...But for the joy that has been set before me, I shall endure these 21 days!)

If you are among those who are taking on the Daniel Fast this year, I would like to offer you some (humorous) technical support. My congregation is doing this fast for 21 days and our fast will end in time for the football enthusiasts to enjoy themselves at any given Superbowl party. (I was thinking...whew! I get to eat chocolate, bacon and steak in time for Valentine's Day, but you know...to each his or her own!) My first word of advice to you is that this is an opportunity to try new foods that you might not have considered before. A friend said to me, "Well, you're a foodie, so that's exciting to you. I am not and so I just want to eat and keep it moving." Okay, cool! So now, I have an official Daniel Fast Partner! I like to cook and experiment and she likes to eat what is easy. So, we can agree that I will do the prep and cooking part and we can taste things together and see what we like and what we don't like. Plus, we now have the added bonus of spending more time getting to know each other better and so, a concrete benefit is already in sight. Who are you partnering with as you take on this challenge? What can you identify as a concrete benefit before you even start the fast? (Yes, you should write them down! There will be a quiz!)

Now, she is correct. I am a foodie and so I get high just from walking through the grocery store and looking at fresh foods and reading labels...and if you want to find me quickly in a bookstore, check the magazine section and the cookbook section first. While I know that I am a foodie - I also know that if I am hungry, I should not experiment with my meal because I will be angry (and still hungry) mid-meal if the food is not satisfying. So, how to face that challenge? Simple! Make something that you know you will like as the main course. You can have whole grain pasta on the Daniel Fast, so make a big plate of whole wheat penne with some fire roasted diced tomatoes on top and then leave that apple stuffed acorn squash as the "tasting dish". If I decide that I like the stuffed squash, I can either eat it for dinner or save it for the next day's lunch. If I don't like it, I still have good meal on the table (and in my belly) and I have time to figure out something else for lunch the next day. The nice thing is that stores like Whole Foods have these huge bins where you can get as much or as little of a product as you need. So, no need to spend too much money on the tasting process. Find interesting recipes, make a grocery list and go shopping!

The secret to the Daniel Fast is planning. You might want to get one of those menu planner sheets that you can download for free (or for Pete's sake, just create an excel sheet with boxes across the top for the days and boxes on the left side marked for meals and snacks -it's an 8 column, 7 row chart!) and fill that joker in with what you would like to eat for the week. Then, you can make the adjustments as you go along. I did this once and put smiley faces on days that I felt good and ate well and put big fat sharpie marker red Xs on days that were not good at all. This helped me to plan the following week and to avoid making expensive ingredient mistakes repeatedly. This also served as a diary of sorts that allowed me to see when I tended to want a snack and what kind of snack I wanted. There's only so much air-popped popcorn one can eat but I developed a love of certain baked chips that satisfied the need to crunch away my frustrations. (And by the way, it is totally okay to buy one of those crudité platters at the grocery store just to get yourself started...but don't eat the dip!) Instead of being frustrated by what you cannot have, look at and journal what you want and how you are feeling about it. I don't always eat chips because I want chips. I eat chips because the crunch factor satisfies a need to release frustration...and no, carrot sticks don't do the same thing for me. Know yourself or in this process, learn yourself and then govern yourself accordingly. (Oh, and you can apply these same lessons post-fast. Do I really want that whole pint of ice cream? No, I want comfort. Let me go get a hug and a glass of water and praise God for what the scale will report in the morning!)

Stay tuned! I can't wait to see what poetry looks like on the Daniel Fast. I think my next poem will include the line: My soul cried out hallelujah, but my stomach cried out HAMBURGER!

Until next time, eat well, fast slowly and enjoy...Shalom!

I used to be fly

I used to be fly
I wore pretty clothes
I wore pants with side pockets
that stayed closed
I wore pencil skirts
With ultra sheer panty hose
And stylish pumps
I used to wear sweats
With the body language
That said
Don't get it twisted
I'm not hiding it bc I'm ashamed
I'm really protecting you
From the argument that will ensue
When she asks you what you were looking at
And you discount my body
Because you don't want to argue
and she don't understand
that men are going to look
...regardless
Now I just wear flats
Bc I'm just too tired
Now I throw things together just bc they're clean
I don't care much for the presentation
Anymore
Until I see the young pretty girls
Workin it
Like I was afraid to
Because a man's hands
undressed me once
Without my consent
I used to be fly
and I wore pretty clothes
And the married men
Said I was hunting and fishing
Without a license
So to protect me
From your ignorance
I'll put a button down under this Croker sack
And cinch it with a twist tie
And I'll wear ugly
Comfy
Flat
Dowdy
Old lady shoes
And grocery store stockings
And then we will all be safe.

What us gon do?

What us gon' do?

Oh Lawd,
what us gon do now?
Now that I dropped the shield
And brought you into that sacred worship space
Where vulnerability preaches
Hurt sings solos
Pain directs the dance ministry and
The altar is covered with yesterdays?

Oh Lawd,
What us gon do
Now that I know you was only
here for watch care
never wanting full membership
Only benefits
Without the tithe

Oh Lawd,
What us gon do
Now that the doors of the church are open
And there are thieves in the temple
Guess this has become another dead church
Filled with ghosts but none holy

Reckon I'll go on back to the juke joint
Where the communion cup is bigger
There's plenty of bread for breaking
Sins are more easily forgiven
And I know the words to the songs
And it's okay if I sing off key

Oh Lawd
What us gon do?

Torn

Torn

i keep checking my chest
to see if i'm bleeding
but I am not
it only feels like
i should be
after being torn
from you
my kindred
my friend
my partner
i keep checking my nose
to see if i'm breathing
but i am
it only feels like
i'm suffocating
without you
my iron lung
i keep wiping tears
from my eyes
and pretending
they are from laughter
but they are not
it only feels that way
when i pretend
that i've not been
torn
from you
i'm writing a poem
hoping that my zig
will find your zag
and the fabric will
come together again
even if we have to use
safety pins to
close the zipper
(because we had too many
fake fat girl meals)
i keep checking
my heart
to make sure it's still beating
because it feels broken
but it still beats
so i'm still alive
but like that broken clock
that is right twice a day
a broken heart
still beats
even when it has been
torn
from the chest
and so i pray
that you are still
crying with laughter
breathing deeply
eating fat girl breakfast
(and lunch and dinner)
and that your heart still beats
and that my zig
will find your zag
and i won't feel
quite so
torn

I saw them too

Other people on the train

Them...
He’s slim. She's tall. Her hand on his Lower back as she guides him onto the train. He's looking for a place to sit but there are no places big enough for both of them. So they stand. I look up and find her leaning on him, nearly eclipsing him from my vantage point. She has her hand on his shoulder. She's reaching up from the back and cupping his shoulder with her hand. Her chin rests on his shoulder and he must have whispered something to her because she's smiling now. His hand is masked by her faded thin blue denim jacket but I can still see the imprint of his long thin fingers near the middle of her back. One tatted arm stretches upward and his wrist rests on the bar that keeps him stable while she leans in and the train gently rocks us back and forth. She peeks at me from beneath a heavy set of false lashes and the hair she wears rests gently on her shoulder - motionless. The train stops and I notice that she leans out a bit and pulls her hair over her left shoulder with a coy gesture meant for but lost on him. Under the brim of a black and red baseball cap, his red eyes quickly survey the train and almost in sync with the car doors, his eyes close and he resumes his protective posture for the rest of the ride.

Notes from the 3 train

Notes from the 3 Train

96th street

I watched
Him pull
her earbud out
And beg for her attention
I watched
Her roll her eyes
Over the roar
Of subway car wheels
I watched
Her forgive
With a smile
Then he leaned in
Like those dramatic tv moments
When you wonder if they'll kiss
They didn't
Then
When he had her attention
He turned away
And looked at me

Next stop 110th Street

He was
Tall
Brown
Goatee sharp
Blue pants
Lots of keys
Dusty kicks
Eyes like Chris Tucker's
Locks to his shoulder blades
Neatly pulled back
Away from his young
Handsome
Face
Layers of locs
Like perfect black and milds

Next stop 116th Street

He's looking at me again
And she's looking at him
Ear bud out
Her hand in his lap
He's got both buds in
Face round like Q-tip's
Her lips full like Viola's
Leather nikes with white laces
His Tim's look new
Abandoned earbud
Between thumb and index
His index finger
absently flicking and
tapping the screen

Next stop 125th Street

For Kassandra - I have not forgotten

Kassandra
I have not forgotten
Kassandra
I will mourn you by name
Kassandra
Your life mattered
Kassandra
I will remember you
Kassandra
I will not judge what I do not know
Kassandra
I will pray a hedge all around your baby
Kassandra
your name has become like an Amen of sorts
Kassandra
I will raise my daughter to call audibles
While I will act as commissioner
And assess fines
Kassandra
I will intone your name
like a pledge of allegiance
not to the flag
but to the banner
that is womanhood
Kassandra
I will carry you

Crowded Train

Crowded train

Listening to my two track loop of "Heaven" and "Trouble Eyes". Nodding my head to the light notes that dance up and down behind Acey's words. I close my eyes and follow the notes as they run around the sound of his voice. Listening to his carefully crafted meter and rhythm. I open my smiling eyes to find you peeking around the door of this crowded train. I caught a glance at the brim of your hat and my chest stopped mid inhale and until I see your eyes I won't breathe again. Your height gives you an advantage that allows you to see me and give a smile of recognition. You nod and I smile my reply while letting out a breath in time to hear him say "between the black woman's thighs is where heaven is at."

I remember your shy smile and I wish I could reach down in my bag and pull out cute shoes and lip gloss. But naked I came into the world and naked is what I feel now as I anticipate your advance. But wait! What if you don't! What if you were just smiling bc you were thinking of something funny or because some other woman enticed you? Oh, we're here at the next stop. What now? Are you really walking in my direction? While you are sneaking looks at me...I hear, "shut up shut up, I'm tryin to think!" I break eye contact for a moment and like Peter on the ocean I feel myself start to drown in these feelings. You finally arrive and I smell your delicious cologne. How unladylike and embarrassing and untimely...my stomach just howled a growl! Your smile spreads slowly and I suddenly need to grab the top of the seat next to me so that I'll remain upright.

You look down into my eyes and say, "Carla, right?"

"Yes. And you are...?" I am trying to hold a straight face but the look on your face is my undoing. (What? You're the only one with game?) I lick my unglossed lips as unsuggestively as possible and try to look innocent as my hand finds a few of my locs to nervously twist around my fingers.

You lean down and it seems as if your lips are going to graze mine but you subtly divert to my ear and whisper, "Wanna mess with the passengers?"

Turning my cheek to aim my words just above that small curve above your unpierced earlobe, I whisper, "sure!"

Your arm suddenly wraps around my waist and pulls me in for a full body press. In a split second I must decide how to let this play out. Do I go with the familiar look of resting my head on your chest or should I do something to make them wonder if we really don't know each other very well. I tilt my head up and narrow my eyes ever so slightly ("it's all in the eyes") to let you know that it's our ongoing dare and the stakes are always high. You've fallen for my bait and lean into a kiss that makes ten lifetimes flash in front of my eyes. All of them mine and even across time...you're still here with me in every one.

First Name Basis

Luke 2:15-21
New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
21 After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.


In the Jewish tradition of old, eight days after a child was born, he was circumcised and named. In the case of the One born in the manger, the name had already been given to His parents by angels. They would call Him Jesus. In all of the Old Testament, as it has been passed down to us, Yahweh has never been on a first name basis with the people. The name of G*d is unutterable and even when written, is unpronounceable. Why is that? My guess is that it has to do with relationship. There had to be some way to separate a profane people from a most Holy God. There were rituals and reminders that kept people in their place and kept God in God's place as well. There were laws that drew lines around who was in and who was out...who had access and who did not...when to approach and when to keep your distance. Naming is one way to declare where the lines of our relationships are.

I have written before about my issues with how people use or misuse my name. Everyone is not on a first name basis with me and I will respond or ignore according to whether you have permission to use my first name or not. How nice of me to put those boundaries in place for you, right? Compare that to the God who so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son and did not command the angels to give the child a name that we could not pronounce. The God who came to us was and is accessible to us by His name which we so easily and so often take for granted. There is much to consider and to be grateful for on this, the first day of the new calendar year but I will continue my celebration of Christmas by walking along the path of an ancient story mapped out by the lectionary. Today, I am grateful for having a God who welcomes me into relationship by putting me on a first name basis with Jesus - "the one who saves".

One of the things that Jesus does is breaks boundaries. Jesus provides access to that which once required blood sacrifices and a mediator. (Side note: I can't help but see the virgin birth as a blood sacrifice with Mary as the mediator.) Jesus is born and angels come to earth to worship. Jesus is born and shepherds come to worship. Jesus is born and the God who is not bound by linear time knows that the time is coming when the veil in the temple will be torn and full access will be granted to all of God's people. This same God who knows the number of hairs on our head and knows our names has given us access through the name of Jesus. So, now that we know that we are on a first name basis with the God of all creation and reconciliation, I'll pose the question asked by my Old Testament professor, Dr. Miller, "What will you do with the God you have?"

I think I'll use my first-name-all-access pass just to enjoy the presence of Jesus today. There's nothing like a little quiet time with someone who knows you and loves you anyway. Oh, and I really like the way it sounds when He calls my name...isn't it funny how my name, Carla, can also be pronounced "Forgiven"?