You have my word

One word can change your life.

Tag: english

The places I have travelled, you

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You say: you are poetry.

I say: you have me undone in three words.

You say: I don’t know what to say.

I say: don’t say anything.

You say: I am in love with a writer.

I say: I am in love with the sunrise. I am awake.

Like a train frames the movement of a bride on her wedding day,

so the sun only sets to frame the trail you leave in the darkness for me to find my way.

Your eyes. Like fireflies. Vibrant. Alive. Bright.

On my bucket list there stands: see the Northern Lights. Aurora Borealis.

That was before there was an us.

I could look at you and feel like I’d seen the world – like I’d met everyone there was to meet, like I’d tasted India and walked Rome and surfed Fiji and climbed Everest and loved every land I let my feet shake hands with.

Your hands. Like oak tree branches. Strong. They know their place. Safe.

I’m that chocolate lad. Not sweet like you’d think; that was never me.

I am dark, through and through.

I am my darkest when I am with you.

Bitter to those who aren’t accustomed to the taste, but you have let me melt on your tongue,

you have let my tongue melt the creases of your waist, the small of your back…

relax into me. I will hold you safe.

I don’t have fancy words to make you stay.

I don’t have instructions for a bad day.

I don’t know any languages other than my eyes to ask you not to leave.

I’ve never even been overseas.

Right now in this instance, it feels like we’re oceans apart so maybe that counts for something?

So when people ask me where I’ve been and what I’ve seen?

I’ll simply tell them I’ve travelled your spine, and scaled your ribs and held handfuls of breast

that I’m sure even the monks would profess

the gods made just for me.

Dear Caitlyn Jenner | Quite honestly

Dear Caitlyn Jenner

Quite honestly, I didn’t recognise you at first glance as I scrolled past the cover of Vanity Fair on my newsfeed yesterday. I have followed your news-drawing story each day – from the triumphs and progress, to the hard days and the tears and the tough choices. Quite honestly, I don’t know if I would have the same courage as you.

You are beautiful. Quite honestly, there will be those who disagree not because you aren’t beautiful but because they don’t understand and that is their own shortcoming. As much as you need them to extend compassion to you, know that they too need your compassion. Quite honestly, I’m fists up and rearing to go this morning as, one by one, people in the office are discovering who you are. Not who you were, who you are. One such discovery was met this morning with: “Wat die vok is verkeerd met hom?” In English, that translates to: “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Quite honestly, you ignorant imbecile, two things you should be blatantly aware of: firstly, there is nothing “wrong with him”. Secondly, it’s “her”. Quite honestly, Caitlyn, I think I would have been fired had I voiced the explicit opinion I hold so I held my tongue and I am sorry for that. A face skewed by so much disdain should only be met with a fist. That kind of judgement has no business in preserving life – trans or not. We are human.

Quite honestly, I can’t imagine everything that you have gone through – exacerbated by the extensive media coverage. Did that make it easier as you had no choice but to confront every bit of change head on? What kinds of questions did they ask? Did you always give an answer? People can be mean – myself included – and on behalf of humans, I wish you all strength.

All this to remind you that you are beautiful, even when you have bad hair days. This is by no means the end but quite honestly, I think you know that. Beauty is not just defined by external, this is another thing you know. After all, you have been true to yourself and that is most beautiful of all. Do not let them take that away from you. Quite honestly, they will try and you should be prepared to fight. There’s an army standing behind you.

You have opened up a way for people to talk about things they don’t understand, things they don’t support but want to know more about, things they’ve never heard of before, things they can choose to stand up for. Quite honestly, maybe that’s the most courageous thing of all. Yes, you’re the talking point of a lot of conversations but dare I say, quite honestly, that the conversations are more important; you will not always be in every headline, but you have done us the great favour of making it easier to have other conversations, to approach other headlines. This is the legacy that you leave.

Dearest Caitlyn, do not apologise. Do not back down nor make excuses. Do not hide away. Do not doubt yourself. Whether you like it or not, some people will make their own brave decisions because of you. That’s a lot of pressure, but it’s also the easiest thing to accept because you have already accepted yourself.

I take my proverbial hat off to you.

S.

I break bread :: Take 2

This is the second of two poems. View my previous post to see the slight shift. There may be a third – I believe God is still teaching me about the intricacies and implications of what it means to hold communion.


I break bread.
Symbolically I break His body
and bow my head.
Father, forgive me.
What have I done?
I live and crucify your Son
every day
with the way
in which I live.
I’m ashamed
and I repeatedly turn my face
away
instead of locking into your gaze
and drawing from your grace –
giving me what I don’t deserve:
You died
so I could live.
I can’t even begin to comprehend
that kind of sacrifice.
That you would show love
to the point of giving up your life
even though you had no sin.
Your clothes were stripped,
your flesh ripped,
your body dripped
crimson red love blood
so I could be forgiven.
I’m struggling to take it all in
as I sit with bread in my hand
trying to think of a way
to thank
You for all you did
and do for me.
I am overwhelmed
and I haven’t even picked up the cup yet.
“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me;
yet not my will, but yours be done.”
Here is Jesus:
Almighty God’s one and only
righteous, pure, holy
Son.
Now I pick up the cup
and remember:
This is your blood shed.
You were crying bleeding dying dead.
They entrenched a crown of thorns
into your head,
forced you to carry what was already your cross to bear
and step… step… step.
Hilltop:
nails hammered through palms
and beaten through feet
beyond skin-deep, bone-deep
into tree.
Even God turned his face away from all He’d seen.
Sin so revolting,
only Jesus could make clean.
Calvary:
where the restorative redemption act would be.
Heaven cried
the night You were crucified.
Heaven rejoiced
the day you came alive.
Three days:
tick tock
tick tock
tick tock –
rise.
Jesus glorified.

Music Master | Puppeteer

If music was a puppeteer,
You would pull the strings:
make my insides dance,
Ventriloquist, make me sing.