The Last Dance

Graceful fingers slightly curve

Arms above, her

Head tilts back, neck elongates

Body snaps,

And twirls, then twirls again

Leg goes up, extends, around

Then down

To touch the ground.

She moves like notes on melodies

Entwined, emotive symphonies

Divine

Her heartbeat fills the room

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom,

Gliding,

Smooth.

It touches everyone,

A flow

From head to toe.

We feel it.

Then, she smiles,

And we know.

We know her passion to

Awaken dreams

Thought dead in those

Who’d accepted

Defeat instead.

“Rise up!

Get moving!

You’ve got this!

You can do it!”

That is what she said.

And they rose

Moved

Dreamed

Achieved

Believed

Because

She knew it.

Soft arms

Fiercely embrace,

A sweet smile

Emanating grace,

Beauty

Spontaneously unfolds

And wraps a multitude

Brings them together,

One.

Laughing,

Dancing

Loving

Being,

One.

Childish giggles

Echo as they

Run among

Those gone before.

They gaze in awe

In rooms where

History’s laid out,
At things once old,

Now new to them.

Rotary phone?

A typewriter, and

Feathered hats?

Flapper dress and

Polished Mary Janes

Crossing lanes -

To meet?

“Yes,” she said,
"Yes."

“Don’t you

forget -

To remember.”

She kneels

at the end

of the number.

Arms outstretched,

Head lifted

Smile radiant

Eyes closed.

It was her final pose

The last dance we would see

Now every move
 is Heavenly.

She’s twirling with the angels.

In Memory of  Brenda Cooper

Mind Games

Lately, a number of people with strong spirits of intimidation, provocation and manipulation sought me out. I wondered why they tried to attach themselves to me. How would they benefit from controlling my soul? What was the ultimate purpose?

I noticed several similarities during these encounters. They all used words to try to instill fear, do emotional harm, and manipulate to impose their will. If I did not acquiesce, I was met with extreme anger. No. Rage would be a more appropriate description of their response to my resistance to being their puppet. 

Another thing they shared was an unrelenting attempt to keep me on the defensive. They did something wrong, but when challenged to take responsibility, quickly placed blame on the one they wronged.

I thought, "They are crazy." I am not speaking of the mentally ill. I have compassion for those who battle this disease. I am talking about people whose perspectives are so twisted, they are blind to their own truth. People who repeatedly ask you to hand them a knife, use it to stab you, then say, "Look what you made me do." 

Bewilderment  was my first response-  then came indignation. The audacity! "Keep your mind games. Quell your constant need to control. I see your efforts to manipulate. You've exposed yourself - like Madea - standing behind the screen door asking, 'You can see me?'  Yes! I see you!"

"You have come to the wrong individual. I am not the person you used to know. My spirit is strong against your attacks, yet my heart feels compassion. I wish you knew what you were missing. I wish you could understand. A life that is not whole is no life at all - and you are not whole."

I pray for you, but have no problem steering clear of individuals and environments which seek to infect my soul. I am soaring now - in this new season of my life. My spirit is free, and it feels good. 

Work Of Art

Color your world. Make it beautiful with long strokes and bold splashes. Adorn the landscape of your dreams. You can make it happen, just believe. When you believe, you are convicted to transform what you see into what it should become.  Passion drives you. Actualization, realization, whatever word you wish to use - the shaping of your vision is a thing of beauty.

Dreams come to life at the whisper of your thoughts, the sound of your words. Create a whirlwind of movement and dance into the realm of possibility, step by step. Vibrant colors need both light and dark. The mix develops hues that grace the stark white canvas that is you. Don’t be afraid of the dark. Walk through until you step into the light. You will find the dark is not a scary place. In those moments, absence of light awakens other senses, and you create in ways you never could in illuminated spaces.

A potter spins the wheel just so, slight pressure here, a bit firmer there. Each stage is an unfolding.  Let pressure grace the vessel with its nuances – creating character that would not otherwise be found. Nobody ever said it would always be easy. Everything may not be wonderful, but it will be good – in the end, it will be good.

Hear, see, understand – allow. Eliminate, ruminate – appreciate. Mix your colors, dare to see beyond mundane. Hear the sounds you missed while focusing on fears of never being seen, or heard, or understood. No matter what you do, you’ll leave a legacy; so make it good. Watch your colors seep into lives, as their canvas, too, becomes a work of art.