Exhaled breath to the end Emptied pulsing heart confused by hate and race not white under the weight of grace-less men this Black life matters "Mama" please rest in peace
The personal threat of death looms heavy.
The air we breathe seems thick with risk.
As a physician, I live quite cautiously – very aware of biology and consequence.
At the same time I live blindly in service to a call.
So regarding my death,
I am aware of treasured moments and hope
yet also the horror of being very alone in fear…
today that will be enough.
Barely awake with tangled thoughts
for the energy of presence
seemingly above it all
radiates like heat
into the burden of the soul
Tasting the starched fullness of expectation
I die poisoned by the truth of being
always less than
always not enough
Every day breathes hope from forgotten dreams
taking for granted expected miracles of awareness.
But out the door then,
without coat or cover
on to a human paced journey of doing and stuff-
an accustomed living with exposed intentions
and brokenness, storms and tantrums,
only then to circle back where a closed door shields the heart
in prayerful submission to the chill of that day’s failed ending.
I chose the yellowed white pearls your hands crafted,
entwined with my memory forever.
Now on the morning drive west
the pink gold sun
rises slowly behind me.
This gift speaks your goodbye to me.
Your death was from my art undone.
I am sorry.
There is more care than orders scripted or procedures done,
more than the fatigue of so much hurt.
I chose the yellowed white pearls
entwined in memory,
awakened to a daily becoming,
burning off the haze of dawn.
more than unknowing
more than confusion
more than isolation
It is the truth that is lost with the blow hearted makers of heaviness
thick with injustice meant to allow time to escape the light of day
photography thanks to Paul Militaru
spaces feared and forgotten
with daily breath once harboring hope and love.
Picture via “amdally” wordpress.com
Not just frayed but edges pressed
pulled away with time
in pieces laid open.
Broken bloodlines crushed
still reaching for daylight
heart in hand
in love-seasoned life.
Photography courtesy of Guldman “TheGolden Hour” wordpress.com