inception

   I had a dream long ago - 
a vision, if you will, 

     in which all the people
of the earth
        pursued and engaged in
  that which they were
               created to do... 

those inclined to create music
        created beautiful, melodious music, 

       those inspired to dance
                  danced with grace and fervor... 

those inclined to paint
         painted with all the colors
      under the sun... 

   those inspired to build with their hands
               built sculptures and buildings
        with great precision and grandeur... 

those given words and insight
      wrote with profound eloquence and wisdom...

  those with a special bond to the earth's soil
            cultivated crops and plants 
                      for both beauty & sustenance... 

nimble fingers
 sewed, knitted, and quilted 
                 brilliant fabrics and 
                     soft materials for clothing and warmth... 

    all working together in wonderful harmony and
              in such a sweet rhythm, 

        meeting one another's needs, 
                bartering their crafts, skills, 
                     & time...

   
   I awoke with tears filling my eyes
       from witnessing such beauty
    and from having to leave such a place... 

   
  Upon much reflection, 
           I now know that this 
is the very reason

           the world now makes sense
       only when 
I am in front of a canvas
            covered in paint...

   the reason I must continue to create, 

            to bring a piece of that 
    vision into fruition
                 
            here amongst a society
  looking only to make a buck,
              leaving all inclinations 
    & inspiration behind
         somewhere along the road 
between expectation
                        & success... 


  to inspire others to dive head first 
            into this vision,
                 finding their voice, their place, 
    above the noise

            & calling out to others
                       to do the same. 


    

through the eyes of another...

   Beneath these bright, 

         cloudless skies 

crowning this luscious, green 

     country

  I sit

  under the shade of trees

  that rest 

    at the foot of the volcano...

turning a piece 

  of lava rock 

       in my scarred

but lovely hands,

 I observe its surface,

      porous & rough, 

while a gentle breeze 

     washes over me, 

kissing my dark

  skin

     & rustling the foliage 

above... 

  I close my eyes

      and breathe it in,

praying that it

   washes away the 

scars in my heart

       & on my body... 

  I can smell the lake

on the breeze... 

Lake Kivu, 

    

    both beautiful 

        & haunting, 

where thousands of 

   coffee farmers

drown every year

       attempting to 

smuggle their crops

    across the border

        after dark

to do business 

     in an economy 

better than their own... 

  Sounds of bodabodas 

        & horns, 

    the bustle of the 

            market, 

  & children playing

           in the distance

reach my ears... 

   There is much 

to be done...

     cooking, cleaning, 

  & taking care of 

     my younger siblings... 

but I had to 

     get away,

if only for a 

      moment... 

 I open my eyes

    & my gaze 

falls once

       again 

to the scars 

    that cover my body... 

scars from a group 

      of rebels

that passed through 

      our village, 

destroying our homes 

        & crops, 

 killing many, 

     attacking & raping

me and many 

     other girls

    who couldn't get

away fast enough, 

      first hiding 

their siblings

   & children they'd born

from past attacks...

  The flashbacks 

        force me 

to close my eyes

           once again,

 trying to blink the 

       memories away...

 I take a deep 

       breath

& slowly open

     these eyes-

     these eyes 

holding more 

     pain

        & 

        maturity

than a girl 

    of fifteen years

 should hold... 

     I take in 

         my surroundings

      and 

      for the moment

      the images are gone... 

 I stand up slowly, 

      brushing dirt off my skirt, 

 and place the lava rock 

     in my blouse pocket...

 I thank the trees 

         for their shade 

    & solitude, 

      then begin my 

way back

      to the village. 

7:30am

[A morning in the life

of a Congolese girl]        

  

Reverie

A bird

hidden amongst

the trees

sings to me

loud & clear,


adamant 

that I

hear him out.


He has a beautiful

song.

admonition

   Embrace the moment.
       Breathe each breath purposefully. 
Realize that you are right
where you need to be... 
            that this very step
            is essential to the next. 
   Open your heart & your mind 
   to the lessons 
   waiting to be learned. 
               Close your eyes & listen
               to the answers
               waiting to be revealed.