Matrix Moments

Media Moments: Question, reflect, connect

Know I am

There was that day
we had the answers
the keys,
We started so well
hearing the truth
we were known 
in God's heart,
100% free, 100% pure, 100% loved
100% valued, awake, peaceful, 
100% at rest,
100% purposeful, hopeful, full in God,
totally born for this,
we felt we could do anything
change anything
100% in tune with God
100% home.

Then we 
glanced in a mirror
And forgot 
what we looked like.

Reality lies flooded in,
Layers of pain
Lost who we were,
Buried alive in
blame from others,
Put downs,
Self destruction,
religious noise
religious disappointment,
So we start selling:
Selfies with the famous
Shallow pictures boosting our
image online,
and concrete slabs locked in
covering what we once had,
Fun for a moment
became the mantra, 
Instagram incisions
cut into the skin,
distractions the disease
eating our minds
devouring soul,
The things we valued
were just things, 
and dust to dust blanketed us…

Buried living 
walking graves.
Ooh child of God,
I always knew you,
still love you,
experience again the truth
that has always been there,
I know the depths 
what it means to be buried
I know the weight
of separation,
to fight the thick tomb
of death dealing and agony,
I run to you
I welcome you
no blame
no hesitation,
be released
discover again
who I Am,
I say yes
to who you are.

100%

Poem Tags
# buried, #christian, #gold, #identity, #mirror, #poetry, #published, #real-life, #spoken-word


Prompt
Lost what you once had? Has who you are in God been buried?
Poetry about knowing yourself, your first love.

Dust Finger

Hate of him,
We have set the trap,
The law, the bait,
The manipulation.

And then
the teacher
Steps through, past
into the circle
breaking, pausing the moment.
He kneels,
touches her shoulder
Somehow intimate,
Bringing the anger
to our minds again.

He looks up
at us, unnerving
in a silence that appears.
Paused, we see our faces
reflected,
Young, smooth,
older, stained, creased.

He crouches
writes in the dust,
Edits of life
dust to creation
dust to dust
soul stick sentences
swirl in the seen
and unseen words.

"If you,"
the teacher speaks;
quiet echoing depths,
"Are without sin, throw the first stone."
The speaker looks
at us
as the story
our lives, his life, her life
are connected, unravelled,
and tightened in our souls,
Our collective soul,
Opening past and present,
Time held in heartbeats.

And we leave
one by one
Eldest to youngest,
with our shame,
our pain,
Not healed,
but exposed
Not quite yet
honest enough
to see all of our story,
But changed,
Opened?
Questioning.
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