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I love this deeply every time I hear it.
Tag: poem
Poem: No longer listening
I once heard what I thought
LaShawnda Jones
was a calling. A mating call of yearning,
of need, of matched desire.
I listened.
Was someone seeking me?
The voice seemed familiar –
its vibration pierced my soul,
breached the dark midnight of my days
in the directionless wilderness of life.
It pulled me, spun me
surrounded and filled me.
The melody delighted me.
Surely it was a call to live;
to fulfill hopes and dreams
I kept listening.
Even as I called back,
I listened.
Even after I became a seeker
starving through the ravenous desire
of a supernova devouring its own light,
I listened.
I called back.
I listened.
I called back.
I waited and waited and waited,
for more than a dozen years,
I waited for my radiant reply to reach
the one my soul loved;
ached for the brilliance of their
presence to sustain me.
I thought I needed to see, to feel,
to be seen, heard, wanted, and needed.
I thought I needed someone to love me;
someone I could pour love into.
Yet aging with none of my needs met
altered my hearing, diminished my longing.
Silence is not only deafening,
it deadens the soul and mutes the heart.
I stopped listening to the void.
A lifetime ago, a whisper tickled my senses
through the wilderness of the universe.
But how could that be when
sound can’t travel in space?
Relics of my imagination had launched
on gases of hope, creating orbits of dreams
in the echo chamber of my heart.
So… I’m no longer listening.
I will feel what I can, be who I am, exist as created
with no regard for the sliver of sound heard
in the wilderness of loneliness, that had only
ever been my own echo reverberating off stardust.
Poem: the blessing of ordinary
if i should happen in quite
some ordinary way
to remain
sustain or
simply maintain
my existence
i would count myself
among the extraordinary
if I should happen in quite
some ordinary way
to breathe
consistently
deeply
repeatedly
without thought
difficulty or obstruction
if i’m able to exist… like air
then certainly i’d number
among the extraordinary
we’re conditioned for selfishness
immediate self-gratification
taught to despise emotion
ignore empathy
discount sympathy
without understanding practicality
taught to live in the moment
for ourselves
for what feels good
we’re told self-focus
make us extraordinary yet
such flings us like a wisp of wind
appreciation of the ordinary
exposes abundant blessings
allowing for extraordinary
insights in a world where
we’re expected to accept
what’s given to us
done to us
told to us
shown to us
where we’re not expected
to think for ourselves
of others or beyond
what we see, feel, want, or need
however, having learned to
grow through vulnerability
navigate darkness and greyness
unlearn toxicity
confront abusers and their enablers
having learned to love myself
embrace and accept my wholeness
reenforce my strengths
confidence and faith
basic life elements
uncommon to many
yet necessities for wellness
it’s clear i’ve been favored
if I live to remember
a dream
loves embrace
happiness’ pursuit
then the ordinary has
become a path to the divine
so many years of yearning
for extraordinary happenings
only to discover blessings
in the ordinary course days
Asé
Poem: What are you getting in exchange?
What are you getting in exchange
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for access to your body, mind, spirit?
your energy, presence, time
your knowledge, skills, and resources?
What are you receiving?
for pieces of you?
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Poem: Attention Seeker
You have my attention
never lost it, despite
trampling it with dismissive ridicule
What will you do with it now
What have you ever done
To keep my focus and hope
other than laugh and brag with friends
while keeping me in perpetual limbo
Indeed, have you ever given me
your purposeful attention
Focused your energy on me
Strove to be more than
a nice guy liked by all
Did you ever envision yourself
as a man of integrity standing by my side
A man of purpose joining his strength to my vision
Unlikely, as your form of noncommunication
layered with emotional hiding
seduced me into the shadows
I can think all the thoughts or not one,
do nothing, say nothing
and get the same wide-eyed,
“I’m a nice guy” non-response
received when I did everything
to look like a fool out of my depth
A foolish woman
who gathered all my available courage
to speak all my known words
of admiration, love and desire
To a being who sparked the light in my spirit
yet could not comprehend the nature of my offer
Now I understand my vibration
was beyond your frequency
You couldn’t perceive me
beyond the physical appearance
you considered unworthy of your commitment
My attention meant nothing when it was all I had to give
Even though it’s what you wanted most from me.
You were attracted to my light but had no respect for it.
Yet here we are orbiting still
What are your intentions?
Do I willingly enter your rabbit hole
of emotional grief with no hope of any satiation
To allow you to feast off my energy
Watch you eat
As I starve
You bask
I wither
You soar
I drown
You chose someone else
I grew in grace, seeking understanding
from a God who would put you
in my spirit, yet keep you out of my life
Maybe you were never the one
I was to commit my future to
Perhaps the real test is trusting God to provide
beyond what I sense in a life set on orbiting you.
Poem: This is a test
this is a test
and only a test
if I do nothing
what happens
if you do nothing
what happens
if I do something
or anything
perhaps one more thing
what happens
if you do nothing still
what happens
if I do everything
all things
reach down to move your feet
or up to puppet your lips
what happens
and if at the end of it all
you still do nothing
what could have possibly happened
your heart and will
are yours to control
mine are mine to protect
for every level of effort
I perform, the outcome remains
no forward motion
no synchronicity
no reciprocity
so I’ve learned to do nothing
like you ….
flirt with the air
deny responsibility
through inaction
save energy
stay where I am
move forward on my own
momentum with no
expectation or disappointment
after, it was only a test
Poem: Have I ever loved?
Who am I if not
A creature created in the
Image of love?
But what is an image
If not a facsimile?
Non-original
Incapable of being
Authentic
If love is a reaction to receiving
For we love because
We have first been loved
Then what of the love
That was supposed to pour into me?
What am I pouring out
If I haven’t first received?
In this dimension there has been no
Sheltering arms
Encouraging embrace
No partner or mate
With whom to lay down
Or to build up
What would I know
Of a gentle touch
A tender kiss
A thrusting merge
An expectant birthing
A purposed feeding?
How am I to learn
The deep nature of
Sharing in true
Relationship?
When my existence
At every level
Has been solitary
Relating to myself
Even in
Disagreement
I am right
Though my conclusions
May be wrong
If I don’t even know
What love
Looks like
Feels like
Sounds like
Smells like
Tastes like
How could I possibly
Recognize love
Identify myself
As love
Give what I haven’t
Received?
All these years
I thought I was offering
Though I knew I was begging
Trying to avoid my emptiness
Attempting to camouflage
My brokenness
Seeking to heal to
Wholeness
While offering my image
Of wholeness to the broken
But if love is
Absent from my being
How was I ever whole?
How was I ever able
To offer myself?
7/15/19
Poem: No Straight Lines
If life isn’t linear
Then we’ve already loved
Believing time wasted away
Waiting for what’s
already been
If love isn’t chronological
Surely there are no regrets
Deja vu confirms
What’s come and gone
Past is prologue to future’s past
Reality is never knowing you
Even as my spirit calls you home
Though we’ve only shared shy fleeting touches, my body
Flushes with memory of joys
Yet to come
How can there be certainty of tomorrow while languishing on yesterday’s dead-end paths?
If life were a straight line
Perhaps we would have missed each other in the rush to reach all the next destinations
Perhaps it’s better that we met on this long winding road and continued our separate paths
Perhaps combusting too early would’ve been mutual destruction
Fire that once consumed may now simply keep us warm
Comfortable enough to sustain life
Not enough to turn back time
Maybe we needed to learn to control passions, hopes, expectations
Maybe we needed to unlearn biases, roles and assumptions
Is that reductive reasoning?
A function of call and response?
If existence is a squiggly fifth dimensional experience
Suffering must be an element
Necessary for elevating consciousness
I see you. I feel you.
Yet you’re always out of reach
Present in mind, absent in body
Still, I am here. Where in the continuum are you?
How do we reconcile space, time, and
Waiting through choices that made
Parted ways divergent lives?
~ by LaShawnda Jones, 2022
Thoughts from the Road: Created in Violence
We are created in violence
Birthed in pain
Our only constants
Conflict and struggle
What can we possibly
Ever know of nonviolence
When even our peace is achieved
Within storms turbulent
Enough to alter
The landscape of our lives
Poem: Death is passive. Killing is not.
This poem came from frustration with the passive language most media use to report state-sanctioned murder and police brutality. They say “the death of” this person or that person, as if the person died in an unremarkable way. They speak of people who “lost their life” as if the opportunity to reclaim lost life is available. A more accurate wording would be “life was taken.” Life was stolen. Life was destroyed by someone who had no right to take a life.
Death is passive. Killing is not.
On the lynchings of Ahmaud Arbery, Breyonna Taylor and George Floyd
Death is a passive word.
There is no story attached to death.
Killing is an active word.
Someone does something:
Killer killed.
There’s always a story attached to a killing.
Who did the killer kill?
Why did the killer target the victim?
How was the victim killed?
Will the killer be prosecuted?
Is the killer still breathing?
Why do killers kill?
People who kill inherently believe
They are judge, jury and executioner.
They are the law,
Inhabiting space above, beyond
and around societal norms.
They enjoy an extrajudicial existence.
The law as we know it
needs to be eliminated.
We need to write new laws.
We need to establish new societal norms.
Killers need to know
Murder is not something else
Because of their badge
Skin color or family connections.
Murder is an intentional act.
It is purposeful destruction of an active life.
Murderers think they have the right
To take away life.
To steal another person’s breath.
To extinguish a human being’s light.
They do not have that right.
Witnesses need to name names.
Supervisors need to hold perpetrators
Accountable for their violence, brutality
And abuse of authority.
Administrative leave is not enough.
Job termination is not enough.
Payouts to injured families is not enough.
Full accountability and prosecution
of killers is necessary.
No matter their uniform.
No matter their perceived goodness.
No matter their community.
A killer is a killer. Their victims
Don’t just die. They are killed.
Breathing is active.
Breath is sacred.
Air is life.
We are all created beings
with the same Right to Life
and unhindered breathing.
Access to air should not depend on
Assumptions, opinions, political views,
Occupation, wealth, social status,
Skin color, mood, hatred of fellow humans
or self-hatred. Access to air should
not require legislation.
Yet here we are.
There is a great lack of understanding in America,
An astonishing general ignorance across the continents,
Of an elemental natural truth:
The deeper you grind US into the ground,
The stronger OUR roots become.
One day, your tsunami of brutality
Will wash you and your generations
Out into the sea you brought US across,
While WE who are deeply rooted in the soil
Will not only still be standing,
But will be flourishing. Gloriously.
~ LaShawnda Jones, May 2020
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