Gently.

I’m gently calling forth the absence and the presence of this destiny.

And I don’t mean to be.

Only one of them is calling me.

And I can hear that still small voice in the center of this cacophony

this fighting scratching screeching battle royale inside my head; this growing desire within me to give life to a vision that is bigger than anything

that is bigger than anything

that is bigger than anything

anything

That could come through as me,

(that is–

as the me I’ve known myself to be…

the frustrated and shackled fulfillment of the future that is Not Yet fully seen

that is Not Yet living and breathing

that is Not Yet free to run laughing through the streets anywhere but inside

of)

Me? I’m in need of a transformation, an ever awakening call to action

a whispering from the unknown into me expressing in splashes of sky blue and field green graffiti on bright white concrete that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Cause I’m exhausted.—of this not yetness.

pressing it’s palms to my throat, knees to my chest, boots to my breath and so heavy so heavy I can barely breathe

And standing just above the tightrope; above the cave of doubt, and questioning,

Knowing there is something greater calling

Knowing that I am whole and me (but am I the me I am meant to be –The me, I get these glimpses, that make me want to twist skip hop though the streets and dance on the rooftops beneath a shower of silver and gold confetti and sunlight as a celebration of You and of that woman)

You see

I know who I am.

And I’m stepping forth

and I’m stepping forth

and I’m stepping forth

Into an opening so bright that it seems

Like It could swallow incinerate me or push and pull me to discover

The magic of worlds not yet seen, levity–

But please could you demonstrate how to move forward when I have so many folks doubting, leaning on me…

when I stumble into caliginous alleys of negativity…

when the moment, I am ready I wonder if the world is ready for me.

Yes, I know until I’m ready to fly

My faith and Your Hands and their words will be steady

The only problem is

I refuse to go back

To this glaringly painful mirrored judgment

To this cutting me down with her rolling eyes and with her measurements, not in inches, but in accomplishments

and why can’t you be’s, and why aren’t you this, and why didn’t you choose an easier path…

no longer will I wait

in the dark, around the bend, in the cold, to be,

to become–

some imagined picture –

And that gap I see was in my imagining, (and not in Your limiting me)…in my waiting for permission to live

See

Right now my own fear is threatening to silence me.

And still and yet I am surrendering daily

And I’m calling on courage

that I don’t always want to acknowledge is living as me–

and as we

The Artists, the Entrepreneurs, the Mothers, the Daughters, the Sisters, the Brothers, and Brilliant Men, who live as devotees to the altar of digging down deep within and expressing the seeds that grow great groves, and vast orchards, and green valleys,

And living our lives in broad strokes and soft intricate lines

so

The filling of our days and the living of our lives brings bright reds, and vivid purples, and soft yellows, to this Masterpiece we are living and breathing and painting on this earth collectively.

as

Me. Me? As We. We are the birth of a transformation, an ever awakening call to action

No longer waiting but being

the living and breathing expression of exactly who you meant us to be…

So even as my fear threatens to silence me

I am and We are

Surrendering to the now

And leaving the next and the rest up to You

| © 2010-2027. Written by Nika Patrice. Attribution Nika Patrice. Text and Recording. Registered. All Rights Reserved.