baltimoreblackwoman

June 30-July 3, 2017

I.

My spirit is empty,
waiting to be filled
with something
wondrous and new.

In fleeting moments,
I glimpse possibilities.

Messages from friends feel like
hints from
God calling me
to seek
a more purposeful path.

But I cannot yet find
the starting point,
and so, I sit
in darkness, waiting
for Light to shine down
from above.

I listen to the sounds
of silence
and hear the still,
small voice
of God.

Only a whisper,
And barely a glimpse.

But still I wait,
trusting
that I will find
the Way.

II.

Well past the midnight hour,
I lie awake,
remembering my past lives….

A shy and fearful child,
afraid of her gifts—
music was her first language;
from the cradle
she breathed melody
and rhythm.

The power of thought
and the magic of words
soon followed
and consumed her.

She loved to tell stories.

But before she knew it,
she’d begun to retreat.

Keeping secret diaries
in Composition notebooks,
and playing music
only when no one was around.

Who could possibly want
to hear what she knew?

Years of larval self-doubt,
anguish, and shame—
all the detritus of growing up;
all the tantrums,
the drama,
and even insanity—

finally gave way
to a woman
who knew who she was,
who understood
that what she’d lived through
had made her
whole.

Despite herself,
she persevered.

Always taking
the back road,
she did everything
her family told her
she could do.

When they told her
“You could be a teacher,”
she scoffed.

Yet, teach, she did.

Not in a school,
but on the job.

A call to ministry?
Not her.

Yet, for a time,
she preached sermons.
Served Communion.
Led choirs.
Headed committees.

All the while,
asking herself,

“Who could possibly want
to hear what she knew?”

She worked hard.                                      Yet she was lazy.

Pursued dreams.                                        But only half-heartedly.

Triumphed.                                             Failed.

Started over.

Until she reached this
quarter-to-three,
no one in the place
except you and me
moment in time,
with one burning question:

What do I do now?

After a week
of summer’s heat,
nights of fevered sleep
interrupted by strange nightmares
of longing and loss,
she decided:

Listen to the sounds
of silence
and hear the still,
small voice
of God.

It’s only a whisper,
and barely a glimpse.

But wait,
trusting
that you will find
the Way

in God’s own time.