An Abandoned Prayer


An Abandoned Prayer


Like a Prayer abandoned on the Street. Entangled in bristles, thistles and Thorns. Tassles of Arteries and veins held together with dirt, clay and determination.

Hunchbacks of soil encase S-shaped spine. Skewers of sticks, rocks and Bones pierce my sides.


Roots pulled violently from the Earth yet not pulled apart. Therein lies my hidden strength. Palatine Realms are found in Dead Doorways.

Muscles and sinews exposed to unfamiliar daylight.


Souls came with me as I was ripped from my terrestrial womb. Eruptions of long gone Voices suddenly displaced from home. Not so Silent surrender. Songs and Dreams dispersed floating driftfully seeking sanctuary.


Head bent forward. Seated alone while being ignored by passersby.


Will I become sawdust or mulch washed away by the rain. The Valued parts of me became a plank, a board, an Artist Table.

Am I not as good as those housed in white walled sepulchres?


Then came one who saw my deeply entrenched Holy Beauty.

She who with loving rituals committed my energy to time and eternity. My Memory lives on Thanks to Her. Cosmic Travel lives on.


I see you She said. I see the authentic natural real you.





Any Size Mirror is Judgment


Any Size Mirror is Judgment

Crushed to Powder ~ I want to pull myself inside out…….to avoid notice, I want to hide even from friends and allies.

I want to disappear from the world.

I want to erase all the hurt, pain and sorrowful memories from my mind.

My armor is weak. I have no defense. Layers of trauma enfold my Life so that I may never return to my former self. Yet I wear the Happy Face. I pretend for the benefit of those who have eyes but cannot see.

When can I be real? I grab for the ghosts of my parents. Their embrace still warm upon my skin. Yet memories rekindled fade into nothingness…Like trying to pick up a dream after awakening.

One cannot undo scrambled eggs nor can all my broken pieces ever fit together again. Some are scattered to the four winds. Others are crushed into dust. Most are lost never to be regained. One day the Phoenix will rise again and take Her place among the Ruling Goddesses.

Seed


Seed

She put her hand to the Stone……………………

She put her hand to the Stone and a million millennia of memories coursed through her soul and out from her pores.

She put her hand to every boulder and heard the rocks cry out their praise to Our Creator.

She put her hand to the magnificent Oak Tree and received the voices of streams, rivers, oceans, lakes and streams.

Woman Tree
Woman Tree

She put her hand inside Gaia Mother Earth and heard the calls of sacrifices, bog dwellers, cave peoples, the cries of those murdered all crying out for justice.

She extended her hands within the forest absorbed the singings of creatures past and present reverberating within her spirit. Her fingers touched the voices of cave dwellers imbuing their drawings with Life. And in the fullness of time vibrations echoed through the eons.

She put her hand upon the Rock of Ages and they extended their hands inside her inner being enveloping her with knowledge, wisdom and understanding.

What Are The Akashic Records & How to Access the Akashic Records

 http://youtu.be/SojN1E79jG0

Breaking All Chains and Shackles


Osiris & Isis
Osiris and Isis

Despite the Challenges and setbacks in life my journey takes me to new places, new discoveries and new learning experiences.

Within the Soul the two natures of man exist each seeking the preeminence and each wanting to be the dominant force.  The Sacred and the profane.

The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)
The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man
George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)

A Lost Soul finds her way home. Chains are being Broken.

Tasha Cobbs — Break Every Chain

My Awakening has happened over a period of time.  I went into the next phase of my  Womanhood as I entered Menopause. Truly over the last several years as I entered my 50s, (I’m 55 now) I’ve undergone a revealing Change of Life.  The Universe has opened up new portals and realms in which I travel taking on the mantle of being an Elder. I take my place within the Council of Elders as I march towards Infinity = Eternity.

The Heavens opened up and all my Ancestors, African, Native American, Christian, Buddhist, Indigenous Faiths began speaking to me on next steps in Life.  I truly believe in the Scripture that says, “The Steps of the Righteous are Ordered by the Lord.”  I’m discovering the Galaxies within. Through my Kindred Ancestors I’ve found into to Leap Forward I had to step back confronting my fears honestly with faith, gentleness, Wisdom and Understanding. I gather each of my broken pieces, honor the Divinity of each shard, embrace my tears, and like Isis I’ve gathered the pieces of my scattered tribes and Ethiopia is Reborn!  Shall these dry bones live?  Yes says the Creator of the Universe!  Once again I sing the Songs of Solomon and Sheba.

Habakkuk 2:2-3 New International Version (NIV)

The Lord’s Answer

Then the Lord replied:

“Write down the revelation
    and make it plain on tablets
    so that a herald may run with it.
For the revelation awaits an appointed time;
    it speaks of the end
    and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
    it will certainly come
    and will not delay.

The Land of the Rising Sun embraced me as I entered the Border-less Gardens.

Live the Sankofa bird I’ve returned to myself.  Despite raging battles without and within my Calling and Passion as a Scribe bid me come forth to record my Voyage.  Grounded in the Lily.  Supported by the Lotus.

The Queen has returned to her Queendom. She sits upon her Throne whilst reigning over the Seven Lands, A Judge and a Mother over Africa, Israel and the Americas.

Judges 4 & 5.

Isaiah 54:1-3 New International Version (NIV)

The Future Glory of Zion

54 “Sing, barren woman,
    you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
    you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
    than of her who has a husband,”
says the Lord.
“Enlarge the place of your tent,
    stretch your tent curtains wide,
    do not hold back;
lengthen your cords,
    strengthen your stakes.
For you will spread out to the right and to the left;
    your descendants will dispossess nations
    and settle in their desolate cities.

Break every chain!  Indigo Children Rejoice!!

The Workers Leave No Footprints


Dreams Never Die

Misty Foggy Morn

Youth said “Dreams Never Die.” Twenty years passed then Recession kicked in. New Realities were born. Twelve hour workdays became the norm.

Like a drowning man Dreams surfaced again and again only to plummet down to the watery deep. All the while knocking at 1% door watching them through one-sided window laugh, play, drink and party with no thought for the ‘Morrow’. We the unseen only imagining free time for our dreams.

Dreams that must wait until Social Security beckons if death does not reach us first. Fore bread, water, warm clothes and a place to live cry louder. Goodnight Sweet Dreams. May you one day resurrect to a New Dawn.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

The Working Poor Leave No Footprints

Surrounded by a plethora of people who seemed to surface like bloated corpses after spring thaw.  Worker bees we are all meaningless specks of dust being recklessly scattered by blustery winds.  Modern day Robber Barons throw battle weary soldiers back into the battle while they sit sipping tea in Ivory Towers.  Thirty-seven years a professional, now placating rot breath Sabbath suits long in tooth, visions of Mammy dancing in their heads.  Limestone Liver spotted wrinkled bone bags befoul the air with endless demands.  Dontcha know Miz Daisy learned to drive herself and the Help all went to the French Rivera.

Foggy Misty Morn

I am Hagar cast out of my prosperous household, denied by the Master and Mistress I once served.  Thrown out of my protectors’ house my Dream-child and I await Our Avenging Angel of Salvation.

My Dreams now dead buried under work obligations, mountains of rules and regulations that I seem to constantly violate just by being. No miracles exist for me. Only years of mindless drudgery ahead.  Millennial Overseers govern my every move with their remote control mind games.  Freedom lies dormant within my imagination.  My brain has been put out to pasture because intelligence is not needed or wanted and creativity has become a sin.  Automaton Me clad in nondescript dull uniform easily replaceable by the next set of hungry hands yearning for the pence dispensed from the rich mans table.  Hey!! Who’s next up on the Auction Block?!!  Come lock step into the Plantation Mausoleum filled with objects which are valued more than drones who guard them.  We be Aliens in our own Land.  Serfs never reaping a hard earned Harvest.

Yet soon a New Day will Dawn, Dreams will bear fruit and Visions be reborn.