I had a discussion recently with someone about mental health in the church. We need to be okay to not be okay every single day and support each other. Pray. Get Counseling. Then Pray some more. Below is what  poured from my heart:

Forgive Me. I lied to you.  

I lied to you a lot.

A clever, cute, quip..  “blessed and highly flavored.”

Yes. I am blessed. 

But the flavor of the month  is salty.

Salty attitude

Salty sarcasm 

Both to cover  up the flavor of decade.

Salty tears. 

See I am a child of the Most High God. 

Above and Not beneath

Head and Not the tail.

World  Class Devil Stomping Overcomer

Remember??

You ain’t supposed  to know that my weeping endured for more than just a night. 

Tell me, is it joy in the morning?

Or joy in the mourning?

Or joy for the mourning while I am mourning in the morning.?

Am I a sinner because my mourning don’t  feel blessed?

Or right now  cause  I ain’t comforted ?

Or  I don’t wanna be a peacemaker this time?

Am I a sinner because I am still trying to forgive but can’t ever forget ?

Hands in places they should not be

Eyes on things  they should not see

Tattooing my flesh & heart worthless but powerful words that should not be.

That won’t let me be

My poor in spirit just feels broke. 

 Even with all I have……worked for and given,

Isn’t it strange that I miss the home without the indoor  plumbing where we were all together….living.

I was only meek because I was taught to be.  Choked first by the annotate to never let them see me sweat.

Another time by a well armed versed.

 And then again by my own brown skin.

I tried … even crowned my way thru it. 

But chemo was persecution 

Radiation  was an insult  

Diagnosis was an assault  on my character .

I try to  rejoice and be glad…..or at least appear  that way.   

Honestly  I do know that there is greater in the Kingdom. My pure in heart is seeing God .

Just can’t understand why so many took the trip 

In one year

One season  

One month.

In one day.

I still hungry Lord.  I am still  thirsty. 

(Pandemics. Politics.)

Here’s  my cup Lord .

(Evictions. Convictions. )

It’s  all full up Lord.

(Riots and Racism)

Feed me 

(Say Their Names)

Cause I want no more of  this Lord 

Full and starving

Empty and overflowing 

Sister-super-sanctified 

Dying and want nobody knowing

Hush children. Hush children

Don’t let nobody be calling my name.

Is there a balm in Gilead? Do I rub it on? Do I smoke it? Does it come in sugar free gummy form?

Me who never wanted to be touched, now misses the laying on of hands.

Holy Hands

Grease my forehead and make it stop hands.

Speak a word to me.

Just don’t  kill me softly. 

I’m healed!

Just still hurting.

Walking by faith and not by sight. You run into stuff.

You stub a toe waiting for light

Soothe my silent screaming. With your truth!

You been testi-lying too?

Right?