I decided to switch it up and pop in during the daytime. Don’t fret – Wednesday Wind Down will return. 🙂
In honor of National Poetry Month, I will share poem or spoken word piece each week. The piece below is hot off the press. I wrote it this morning as I steeped in jazz music. Thanks in advance for reading it!
THE LATTER
When I get old I pray That the waves of wisdom that crashed through my life Will flow as mighty streams into the ones I love Pour into cupped hands of expectation That it will save them from their contemplated sins That my mistakes will be their textbooks To review and expend
I pray When I get old That my words will find homes in the future Serve as nightlights for those lost in the night Reside in the hearts of passersby Cling to the souls of forever learners Grow in the soil of tomorrow’s harvest
History of joy and tears will be punctuated by crow’s feet Proof of humanity Resilience The fragility of my fingers The winding roads of wrinkles atop my hands Will be a testament of loving Living Praying Touching all this journey had to teach me I trace them end to end Every curve Every bend I embrace them.
I pray When I get old I won’t be thrown away Wisdom withering among white walls Visiting the distant lands of my memories Recalling history broken and rebuilt Again and again Just like me Sipping on feelings felt within the softness of my chest like a cup of hot tea Breasts, once the flagship of my womanhood, returning to where they began Heart beating in reverent rhythm Feet wiggling to a song in my head
When I get old I pray I bathe in the cleanliness of a child’s laughter The beauty of a sunset Kissing Water’s edge Reminding me of my lover’s lips I smile, and touch my own Savoring sweetness of moments untold I pray I lace my sneakers and walk on the devil’s head at dawn Fervently placing my feet as a reckoning of faith I pray I see the wonder of Earth’s bounty Lush and green Excitingly enticing me to commune and frolic To soak in freely in her majesty.
And as my eyes illuminate at heaven’s beck and call I’ll look back at it all All I saw All I felt All I poured All I accepted All the branches that grew within me All the leaves around my feet I’ll breathe in Smile again And I will exhale out of this life Into the next chapter of my spirit… When I get old, I pray… when I get old.
For more information about NPM, click their logo below.
So, how do you feel about aging? Is it something you fear or look forward to experiencing? What does “old” mean to you? Let me know in the comments. I’m looking forward to reading what you think.
I hope you had an enriching day. If not, I hope these words give you some solace.
Let me start by saying that today was a hard one. As I claw my way out of depressive waters (thank you Jesus and Therapy) and realign my life, there are days like today that make me wander down a rabbit hole of “why’s” and “what if’s.” I know what you may be thinking… “Why would you wander down a road of why’s? What good does it do?” It’s not a place I wanted to be, but somehow I ended up there today and whew… talk about a headspin. Next thing I know, I was sitting in my car with a pen in my hand trying to write my way out of a dark hole of loneliness. While that’s not the cool thing to say in Christianity, we keep it real around here.
So, what happened next was a beautiful reminder in the form of a whisper. Pen still in hand with about a half-page of spillage, I heard “You’re in post-op.”
It made perfect sense… instantly. In 2019, I told a friend that I felt like I was in spiritual surgery – like God wanted to rearrange some things in my life and all He wanted was my yes. I remember saying “OK, let’s go. Whatever You want to do, I’m in.” I had just transitioned into full-time entrepreneurship and felt like I was already skywalking on faith anyway. So in 2020, when depressive waves crashed into my soul, I remember saying “OK, so isn’t it over? Is the surgery incomplete? Am I still going through it? This is rough.”
*insert radio silence here*
Me and my frustration cried and yelled feeling like a used discarded sweater. Meanwhile, my body felt limp and expended. What in the world was happening? Was this the second phase or something? Whatever it was, I wasn’t a fan and it was lasting too long.
I sat in my car, lamenting on paper, then I heard that whisper and I saw it clearly. Me + hospital gown + hospital bed + tubes + monitors + four sterile walls. I knew the scenary all too well. There I was, lying there, eyes closed. I took a deep breath and realized what the Holy Spirit was telling me.
Occasionally in the vision, a nurse came in to check on me. A doctor had already spoken to my family. Limited visitors, one or two persons. I slept mostly. Limited words left my lips because my throat was still sore from anesthesia and/or the surgery itself.
After surgery, I think I should be up and running like a car after a tune-up. I always think that even though I know better. Once a procedure is completed, there’s a place called post-op and there are post-op instructions. Even same-day surgery has a post-op period. Nevertheless, what do I do? A slight tip over too much. *SMH* Why? Because I think it’s over. It’s done. It’s time to move on.
Well, Family, that’s how depression hit me like a freight train last year. I had a series of “it’s time to move on” lies in my head that lasted over a decade. Each compounded over the other. I still had joy. I still had divine anointing over my life. I still used my gifts in church, and yes, I still inspired others. And I did it well. And I meant it. But when I gave God permission to rearrange and extract as needed, I tried to apply the same lie – “OK. It’s over. It’s done. It’s time to move on.” Meanwhile, in the batcaves of reality and against my desire, I’m in post-operation recovery. Some friends have been removed. Some boundaries have been implanted. Some desires were shifted underneath others. Some thought patterns have been rewired. Stitching of redefined faith is in place and my insides are learning to work with them. I don’t feel like talking much because it hurts as it heals. I’m relearning my voice and its abilities. I’m raw, fragile, and strong at the same time.
I’m healing.
I’m healing.
I am healing.
And I can’t rush the post-op. “Change my heart, God!” “I want to be like You!” “Make me over!” Sounds great, doesn’t it? Well, if you want it, this transition can not be skipped. There are instructions that must be followed so the healing can continue past the operating room.
Tonight, I want to share some grace with you in the form of this reminder – make peace with the post-op period. It’s uncomfortable, I know because you want to jump into the swing of normal, but truthfully, your normal is different after you ask God to change it. After you want to level up inside. After you say yes. When I said “OK, let’s go,” that meant that some people, things, thoughts, and habits could not go with me… and I didn’t get to decipher which ones stayed. I won’t lie to you, Family. It’s been the rawest experience of my life to date but the best decision I’ve ever made. If you’ve been here for a while, you know attention is not my cozy place, but with this experience, I’ve had to speak up more and share my heart past the uncomfortable part of me. Every time I do, someone says “Me too.”
Hence the entire reason for this blog. I don’t want anyone to be afraid of the process of Jesus’ Love. I don’t anyone to be ashamed to say “I need a therapist.” I don’t want anyone to feel alone in their walk of faith. If no one has told you lately, you are not alone. You have value and you have purpose on this Earth. You also have a right to be the best version of yourself… the version God had in mind when He fashioned you with His hands.
My prayer is that you embrace the discomfort of recuperation knowing that healing is a process and wholeness is on the other side of it.
I love you. Peace & Thanks for listening. Stay well out there and reach out if you need to.
There are so many avenues in you. I do so much without your permission. From creative to correlative, I stretch you more than Elastigirl’s arms.
One of my fears is that you will forget everything. I’ve seen it happen to my loved ones and it was detrimental to the spirit of their existence. They forgot who I was. Their temperament changed at the drop of a dime. Sometimes they would stare off in the distance and I longed for them to return. So, I stretch you — daily. I weave the needles of my to-do lists in and out of you like a skilled seamstress. I hope it works in our favor.
Remember when you couldn’t grasp the concept of negative numbers, but you easily understood neurological transmitters? I was so frustrated with you and I thought you were defective. I didn’t know that I was gifted. I simply felt weird and out of place.
Remember when I prayed that God would make you normal so I would stop being teased? It took awhile, but I learned to embrace the way you work. You compute situations in futuristic tense yet turn off before you overload. How exceptional is that?
Remember the first time I envisioned choreography while my eyes were open? Wow, did it take my breath away. It felt like I was teleported into a creative universe. You tried to process so many pictures at once, so much movement in a moment. I pray we never forget it. I pray we never forget anything.
Store my memories well. Hide them safely. Let them roam free if the dark times are coming.
I don’t speak the worst over myself, but neither did my loved ones. It just happened. So, when no one is watching or while everyone sleeps, tiptoe to the file cabinets and pull out whatever tickles your fancy. You hold great things in the folds of my humanity and I have experienced incredible moments.
Here’s to you remembering them all. Here’s to recalling names, places, and things. Here’s to laughing at old jokes and dancing to my favorite tunes. We’ve got a ways to go, I believe, so I’m asking God to keep you safe and sound. In the meantime, thanks for all you do. Thank you for processing critical thoughts. Thank you for digesting everything I slam on your plate. The various mental tabs that open throughout the day. The big ideas. The little details. You do great things because a great God created you. For that, I will always believe that He will take care of us.
Listening at the Speed of Life 