Immersing
in silent place

No boundary
between the outer world and me

When I myself
fill the space and time

And when finally
all disappear

I realize
that I am the world
and the world is me

There’s always been a hairline fracture in my heart
The beats odd and off
There’s always been a strange attraction to the dark
Can’t decide if it’s evil or not
I hear the seductive whispers of something from the far
I clutch my fist and pretend I’m in my home
With my eyes closed, my mind roams
From the place I’ve known, to the place I can go
The white light creeping in like a cat
The blue hues painting my toes like the waves of the shore
The bliss I feel cannot be counterfeit
But that was just another of your many lies
To make it want it so bad that you could come inside
But I cannot go with you and you cannot go with me
I’m learning the lesson of filling my own cup
I’ve grown tired of my tired father drinking my cup
I’ve grown tired of the lack of fatherly love
I’ve grown tired of being the one always left out
I’ve created walls that rival China
I’ve created walls that dynamite can hardly dent
I’ve created a lush jungle that exists in between the bricks
My happiness rolled in once I realized there was nothing I needed to fix
That love was a birth right and not a prize for doing something right
My lack of love taught me the power of love, that I can make inside

In a tectonic motion
Mountains have formed
Ridges deepened
In the blink of an eye
In the breadth of a gasp

I recognize myself
Asking why they assume
That we find who we are
Within the singular grasp
Of a mere single soul

For I feed a thousand of them
And they feed themselves alone

Your so-called meditation
Must be taken elsewhere
You must see that it was
Never yours to begin

Watch the rearview mirror
As it enquires the wisdom
I am but a multiple
Left merrily unresolved

When a flower begins to grow,
do you hear it cry?
Does it fret about the water supply,
or the illogical odds of snow?
In spring does it wish for the summer,
or that rather it grew by the lake?
No- it blooms without worry, with grace,
and this is Man’s biggest mistake.

God speaks to us in the language of our ancestors
We find truth in the lineage of our hearts,
and a new God is revealed,
from a unique truth
that is God’s expression through you.
Do you think the living God
would play the trickster god
to kneel before humanity’s god of fear?
Say you look like this,
but I look like that?
How could living be
but what you are
and you are always changing.
Living is forever
and forever
is never
the same.
Ever.
Think you know?
Then think two more times.
We know what we have passed aside.
Make way for your redeemer.
A newer version
of the completion
of the promise you made
when you promised
to seek the truth
no matter the cost
or pain.

And when you gaze upon the face,
the one you always knew was there
peering back at you,
Heaven’s gates spring wide
and hell’s fury feasts
on milk and honey saints.
Come now
and reason with me;
for fortunes,
and endings
and the whole **** web.

If you sit in silence
the God of your ancestors
will come to you -
if you want to see.
The living God is there to see
like trains passing on tracks
of inbound & outbound dreams.

Dear America,

I’m really disappointed in you. It’s a harsh way to start a letter, I know, but that’s truly how I feel.

Our leadership (if you can call it that) has unveiled the deep rooted White supremacy and sexism that this country was founded upon. And that means that there are enough people in this country that feel this way that a man like Trump was able to get elected, that a man like Mitch is able to run the show in Congress.

America as the land, it isn’t your fault. You would’ve been happy to never have been invaded, carved up, forced to be witness to slavery and war and watching your beautiful indigenous people die and be culturally erased (in many ways still today). You are beautiful, with your mountains and trees, your beaches and oceans, your rivers and streams.

You are ugly, though, with your systemic oppression, kids in cages, Black people shot by police, housing segregation, gentrification, fatphobia, mass incarceration, capital consumerism, transphobia, misogyny, lack of mental health and addiction support, no healthcare for all, no equal right to education without stock piles of debt, and you always make a way for the wealthy and White,  but you box out anyone Brown without extra expectations or attempted White washing. You pave ways and repave them, neglecting potholes and broken bridges for those that need, deserve, should have them more. You are the birthplace of internal wars, internalized sexism, colorism, homophobia, racism; you’ve made us hate ourselves as much as you hate us.

America, I expected better with the version of you I read in textbooks. But then, that version of you was written by those whose roads were paved with gold, and they profit from its retelling.

I don’t like you, America. I don’t know what hope there is for us, but I do know that I love my brothers, sisters, siblings of all genders, colors, and creeds who too want to unravel you, America, and build you back up into something better, something equitable, something for all of us.

Maybe there’s hope for you, America. Maybe there’s hope in your (r)evolution.

-Meg

A new day breaks,
same ageless sun comes dawning;
its tender touch enough to stir landscapes lush and sprawling.
The morning’s warmth breathes life,
illuminating colors young and still crawling;
the frost of nighttime evaporating and slow thawing
awakens anticipations, dewdrops naked and still yawning-
a newborn alienation in the face of creation, left fawning.
Holding onto what it can while free falling,
ambiguous mist collects then forgets
what it reflects is its own longing;
capturing, refracting back,
confusing light diffused as itself when recalling.
Condensation grips, flips image and slips,
fights gravity and hangs there stalling,
and yet it is not prolonging its inevitable dissipating, dissolving
as indifferent heavenly bodies keep revolving,
dusk recurring and always resolving.

The mind clings to forms
to hold against the silence
to guard itself from you
the secret deadly enemy
hanging out on your own front stoop
winkin’ at your little sister
and begging for an invite to dinner
you can let him pass too
onto the vapor of a conjured illusion
you can let the words
coming from here get stronger
you can hear me more clearly and louder
the self that you buried
under the rot of yesterday’s tomorrow
all that chatter is of no matter you can tell

But don’t tell of the nonsense
of nothings wrapped in desire
that’s old news
from days when newspapers were read
that talk takes the time
of a 20th century backpacker
hiking Truth’s trail
NOW is the only time that there is
for waking from the ringing of the bell
don’t stomp out the silence
the one answer screaming
the reality one is

Only in silence you remember the key
to the treasure in the chest
holding your heart crafted in love
isn’t that the whole happiness quotient
wrapped up like a perfect peace package
I just can’t comprehend the human species
and its endless repeating crimes
how many life sentences
does one have to get
to see only the Self and be free
burn off the rest of the pride
every lyin’ thought’s last roar into dust
forms can’t hold true life
it’s real light making ghostly forms known