This Desperate Prisoner Song from Psalm 69 July 1992

I remember the season that I wrote this…one of the worst of my life.  A parent of 4 marvelous children, married to an amazing and wonderful woman, successful, respected…and absolutely terrified constantly inside, haunted by feelings of suicide and alienation, and carrying the deep shame that I was not really a man at all.  And what I was I had not been allowed to think of since I was 6 years old.

The pressure would build, to almost intolerable levels, and then somehow They would give me grace, carry me, and another period would pass where I could tolerate the pain and sorrow.

I didn’t think I was gonna make it thru this one.  I thought for sure that I was gonna lose heart and kill myself, and there was no one to talk to about it, for I was ashamed that I was not “strong enough!”  And then I ran into Psalm 69, and this song was born.

Looking at it now, I can hear that I, Charissa, was beginning to shout…I was the desperate prisoner.  In many ways, we are all that desperate prisoner…and He is always the Liberator…for I was set free, and never have I known such peace and contentment.

Thank You Father…thank You Jesus…thank You my Mama Lady Grace.

I love You all!

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Save me oh God, the flood o’er whelms my broken heart, my throat is parched!
I’m weary, Lord, from crying, my burning eyes fail while I wait for Thee!

Oh God You see my every folly, and all my wrongs are know to Thee.
May they who seek Thee be not dishonoured, because of me, because of me!

Reproach has broken me, and I am sick and shame covers my face.
I look for sympathy, but there’s no comfort there, no life for me.

Answer me Lord, and have compassion, and do not hide Your face from me!
Deliver me from the deep waters, draw near to me, please draw near to me!

O ransom me, my God, set me on high and I will sing Your song.
Zeal for Thy House consumes my soul and I will ever seek Your face.

The humble see, and they are filled with gladness, and those who seek Him, He will  revive.
For Jesus sees our every trouble, and sets the desperate prisoner free…
Oh Set This Desperate Prisoner Free!

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This song gets to some of the longings of my heart

Constance, perhaps you could take the time to watch this video…it’s lyrics also apply to me and my situation.  I am soo very lucky, in that my beloved loves me, from the beginning, and now, and to come.

But so many people are outcast from the circle of love and affection by the ways our culture has formed expectations and unspoken rules and allowances, based on specific understandings (or lack thereof) of moral codes, on binary gender expectations that do not even come close to fitting the wide expression of actual physical expression of gender, even down to the DNA…

As you watch, won’t you please resolve to be kind t everyone you meet?

Oh…and here is a clue:  being kind does not mean “hating the sin but loving the sinner”!  That is a nice and neat idea, and yet it is designed for the sake of the one who fancies themself not a sinner…it unconsciously creates a barrier, and regardless of how nice you are then?  You will be condescending, and you will undercut your message, and ultimately fall woefully short of the example of Jesus.

Remember Him?  Yunno, the One who drew so close to sinners He was accused by the conservative religious crowd of His day of being a sinner…and let a prostitute wash His feet with her tears (oh, you sin-haters and sinner lovers…have you ever cried such tears at the feet of Jesus, and then dried them with your hair because you were so grateful for His kindness to you?  Just wonderin’…), the One who ate lunch and dinner and celebrated with sinners everyday.

I know these things to be true…because long ago, when I was still deeply dissociated and yet drawn by Their love for me and thus had said Yes to Them, I was a staunch practitioner of that glib maxim above.  And I recall how finally it dawned on my how haughty I was, how like the man in the temple who was thanking God that he was not like the sinner over across the way who was weeping and howling and crying out for mercy as he beat his chest in agony and desperation…

A kind word to those in need.  Such a small thing really, and yet it is the biggest thing under the sun.

The Mountains of Myrrh (from Song of Solomon, 1992)

There is a tremendous subtext in Song of Solomon, or Song of Songs as some call it.  Like so many other parts of scripture,
this book is like a rose, and peels back layers of meaning and potentiality as you dig deeper into it.
One level that it has always intrigued me on was the allegorical level,
where it is speaking with poetry and metaphor to talk about a rich and fruitful inner life of devotion.
In relationship with Jesus, I have always been feminine, and thus the parts about Him being the Bridegroom, and me the Bride made sense to me.
Language that could be interpreted as sexual in nature is very effective to describe
the kind of connection that I have been so blest to receive from Him.

This song, taken from the Song of Songs, was written at a peak, devotional time.

I will lay down in my Lover’s arms.  I will lay down and open up my soul.
Draw me so close to Your heart, let me know Your sweet caresses,
My spirit yearns for You…and my heart burns for You…
I am lovesick with desire!  Your kisses fill me with Your fire,
the fires of love for the Lover of my soul.

Chorus:

Draw me after You!  Let me run with You!
Jesus, kiss me with the kisses of Your mouth.
I will go with You!  Giving all to You!
You are altogether lovely, my God.

I will say yes when He comes for me.  I will say yes, when He cries “Open for Me!”
Let us go out in the night to the mountains of myrrh,
I give my life to You, Lord I will die for You.
Jesus breathe upon my garden, so that my heart will never harden,
may the fruit please the Lover of my soul.

Chorus:

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We Return To You (song, 1992)

This song is revealing now…I see the cycle, as I would swing down into the trough and the horror of dysphoria would rage in me like a flood.  And then the manifestations of Their comfort, Their mercy, and the wholeness that They would bestow, and my heart would be restored.

In the trough, I wrote songs of repentance and cries for mercy…I thought that I was displeasing Them, or failing Them, or not numbering my days wisely.  While that likely happened some, it is far more the case that I was dis-integrating and desperate.  And on the peak, I was carried by Them, as They healed me and got me ready for the next battle, the next workout and time of war… so I wrote songs of devotion, celebration, exuberance…and lots of songs about the Bride and Bridegroom (a topic I was obsessed with!  More on that later).

This is a trough song.

(Oh…and PS:  the wording is almost straight from the OT, thus the words about His anger, wrath, and the “Thou”s and “Thee”s!)

 

From everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God.
Days pass like flowers fading in darkness but You remain.

Your Holiness unchanging, Your purging fire consuming all our ways,
because our fading flowers are countless wasted hours cast away.

Chorus:

We’ve been consumed by Thine anger!
We’ve been dismayed by Thy wrath!
Our secret sin is revealed in Thy Presence,
we have worshipped the works of our hands!

Oh Lord, we cry out to You for forgiveness!
Oh Lord, we cry out to You for Your grace.
Oh Lord, we ask that You would show us Your mercy!
Return to us, as we return to You.

Teach us to number each day You give us to worship Thee,
That we can give You hearts full of wisdom, and Your ways.

Restore us in the morning and let Your Loving-Kindness be our bread!
Let mercy fall upon us like dew from heaven’s storehouse…make us glad!

Chorus

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More Than I Have Known You (a song of desperate longing, 1995)

This song is from my life book, and specifically my life passage:  Philippians 3:8-12 (do you have a life book and/or passage?  Something to think on).  I remember that the nights were getting worse…nearly unbearable, and my poor beloved who suffered beside me, holding me as I shook and trembled and cried and suffered in the dark.

I remember getting up around 2 AM one morning just a few weeks after the first of the year.  The thought of enduring another year towered over me like King Kong over Faye Wray!  Suicide was not an option, as it is so unfair to the ones left behind, and it is the ultimate self-oriented act…but going on was not an option either.

I longed to just simply “never-have-been”…because it was as if I wasn’t there anyway, and yet horribly and terribly aware and having being…rough.

I got out my guitar, and began to strum softly in my favorite chords, and just hum…and a lil melody bubbled up inside, and the chord changes manifested themselves to me, and then I spontaneously started singing these words…but I actually believe that Lady Grace sang them for me, for I was without mouth, without tongue, and screaming…

It got me thru.  They are enough…always, always enough.

(I am crying as I recall, in total and complete gratefulness)

When my life is shaken in the storm,
You are there…and You draw me near You.
In Your Arms my heart is made secure,
as You kiss my tears and call me Your own.

Chorus:

I want to know You, I want to know You!
Deep in my heart, Lord…I want to know You!
I want to know You, I want to know You!
More than I have known you Lord…I want to know You.

When the dark night presses in on me,
You are there, You’re shining so brightly.
Then Your sweet love brings the dawn again,
and my heart is filled with only one cry…

Chorus

So I come and kneel at Calvary.
You are there, and You draw me near You.
Then Your Blood, Your River washes me,
Jesus, I surrender my life to You

Chorus

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What I Want To Say

It’s as simple as it can be.
I’ll leave the clothes off my words
and address you nakedly as anyone can

each one was perfect–
that is what I want to say–
perfect
the perfection found
only in Loving.

Do you understand?
It seems against everything we know and
It seems against everything we believe and

It is true.

To say “I love you” is a humiliation
It is the Absolute Narrowing of Possibilities
And everyone, down to
the last person
Dreads it…and wants it…

For only in narrowing is found
Endless Widening Freedom

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Love, in a sexual world.

Constance…I am finally ready to write about love and sex.

Yep…if you are offended by the mere mention of such things, you should probably skip this post.  I knew a lot of christian folk who actually thought sex was a nuisance at best, and dangerously distasteful at worst.  Somehow, someway, one of the most incredible processes They created, if not THE most incredible act of all time, became “dirty”, “shameful”, and downright distracting.

Here is a pretty accurate rod of discernment:  if something is simultaneously hated and feared and attacked by christians in general while being venerated, exaggerated and obsessed with by the world at large, the odds are very good that we are seeing the polluting of something originally designed to be a high and awesome thing.

Now…I want to be totally clear:  I do firmly believe that the highest and best expression of sexual union is in a monogamous relationship where the partners are committed for life.  I truly believe that when two people make love, there is a transaction emotionally, mentally, and spiritually that melds them together in some unique and irreproducible way.  There is a joining, a union that is one that should make us feel a hushed awe that such a thing could occur:  that I am still in a separate and distinct body from my beloved, and yet something of her somehow someway has melded in me!!  I also believe that They created sex for far more than mere procreation.  There are deep and mystical truths that await the lovers who commit to travelling down Love’s Road of Sacrifice.  They made it pleasant, fun, enjoyable.  They hooked up our brain chemistry to change in reaction to sexual activity, they hooked up our hearts to immediately think love in association with sex.  I do not believe it is sinful to talk of sex anymore than it is to talk of cows:  the sinfulness enters in through how we talk about either thing.

Growing up, of course I experienced sexual feelings, although they were sometimes pretty confusing for me, and I even had a few girlfriends with whom I was physical and made out…didn’t go “all the way”, but too far down the way, in hindsight.  But I was by no means a sex-driven person, and I was flummoxed in the locker room listening to the guys talk about sex in ways that I didn’t even know of, let alone enter my mind!

I met my darling, and I was so incredibly blessed to find a genuine lover of God who matched up with the principles I held.  We married, and our marriage was a wonderland for us each.  We were hungry for one another with love’s appetite, and sexuality was like our spoon to feed each other.  I cannot recall even one time when either of us denied the other if they needed the release, the comfort, or just the very humorous amazing wonder that making love is!

During the time we were growing up, sexuality and its expression in our culture changed dramatically.  There were a lot of oppressions, a lot of things wrong, and in the effort to get free of those things, things got unmoored…and drifted out to sea…until, we are where we are now.

(Remember Constance, this is not a rant against sex! lol)

Venereal diseases are on the rise, and harder to cure.  Unwanted pregnancies result in brokenness and or death.  Hearts, spirits and psyches are fractured regularly.

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And now…young people don’t even have the thrill of dating anymore, but instead “hook-up”.

Porn is virtually everywhere (I actually literally mean virtually).  Any of you could stop reading here, go to google, type one word and BAM!  Whatever you would imagine is most likely just a click away.  It’s so different than a generation ago, when there was little accessibility and virtually no anonymity.

Throw in all the issues of becoming as a human being, growing up and developing, wrestling with our separation and alienation bred by the brokenness of this world, throw in gender issues, or existential issues, or grudges against God due to the foolish and hateful activity of people taking the Father’s good Name in vain…and you have a real witches brew which is such a draught as to poison anyone.

But…….

….maybe……

…………………..just maybe……

we might reach a tipping point the other way.  Let me explain.

When I was in college, I worked in the KMART deli, and scooped ice cream.  I was allowed to eat as much as I wanted.  And after about 10 days, I did not eat ice cream until I had been away from that job a good 2 months!!  It was so common, so pervasive, that I was hungry for something different!

I am hoping that something similar would happen to us culturally.  How many different pictures can there be of a woman’s body, of a man’s body, and of the finite number of ways those biological organisms can combine?  Surely it gets boring eventually?  Surely there is the cry rising in the heart, “There must be MORE than this!”?  Surely there is an acknowledgement of the increasingly fractured essence we see in so many these days?

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Constance, I would gently propose that even some of you have wounds, scars and terrible memories and burdens that were a result of sexual experience that was not of the highest and best?

But here is one of the core things I wanted to get to:  as my transition progresses, my libido has fallen way off, and I want to tell you:  it has not made one bit of difference in our relationship!  We were soo fortunate in that our foundation was first, last, and always love.  I feel a closeness and intimacy and adoration for my baby such as I have never known could go so deep, and climb so high.

It is as if the very best aspects of sexuality have been distilled down and filtered out, and we can drink the “essence of Union”.

If either of us wanted, we would do our dead level best to satisfy the other…but we are both deeply contented and flourishing in love.

The message in the culture these days is that this is a state of affairs which ought to be corrected!  If you aren’t having sex and lots of it all the time you just ain’t with it, according to that message.  And if you are like me…sob…you are to be pitied deeply!  “Poor thing!  Get some Viagra, some Cialis …get a new car and new clothes and a new sexual partner!”

I rejoice that I have been given such a tremendous gift…the most amazing person anyone could want…and also the gift of my gender sorting taking place in a context completely free of sexuality or sexual desire.  It lends a clarity and depth of insight which would otherwise be covered up.

Here is a gentle nudge:  clear your mind and heart of the constant clamoring regarding sex.  Once clear, set it on higher things, like love, joy patience, peace and pursue serving some other person with your life, with no expectation or requirement of payment.

You will be amazed at how things change…

 

With tender care and love,

Charissa

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Wasted For You (worship chorus 1995)

(Back in 1995, I was a full time worship leader for the body of believers that I was attending…the place where I taught, led, and tried best I could to serve. This is a chorus I wrote in those days, to try to indicate a total resolve to follow Jesus where He led, regardless of the cost or place.

Little did I know that the journey would lead here!! Honestly, back then if someone had told me the road would lead to a discovery that I was a transgender person, I would have thought they were crazy! See, I was like most people…I thought that being transgender meant being sexually interested in dressing as a woman and having homosexual activity with another man.

I was totally ignorant, but in my own “righteousness” and view of anyone different, I automatically assumed that A: they were “weird” and B: they were sinful. Oh, and of course I “loved” them…Hah!

SO much has changed, and Jesus and Grace did indeed take me up on my bold words. I never knew how much pain and wrenching would be involved in such a revelation as They brought…and I also could not even imagine the liberty and healing that has resulted.

The good fruits in me are wonderful, and they in essence build my trust, to issue another bold proclamation to surrender even more…and that is scary, because the last one was so difficult, that the thought of something else like that makes me quail!

But here is the truth: I would rather die running towards Them instead of running away.tumblr_n166cyoeGy1qa0o0qo1_1280

I hope that the next phase involves opportunities to tell people about the real People I know…the real Father and Jesus and Mama…the tender and loving and humorous and creative and accepting and teaching and transforming Beings that They have been for me.

Constance…please, if you are not used to reading about God, or talking about who they are, or if you have past wounds, bad experiences or pollutions from people who took Their Name in vain, give what I have to say about Them a chance.

I assure you: if They accept the likes of me, they will accept anybody!!)tumblr_mx9wozWlBo1qjr7k7o1_500

There’s a cry in my spirit, an unquenchable flame.
I’ve been captured by Jesus, and I will never be the same!
I’ve been branded forever. I’ve been cut to the core.
By the Lion of Judah, shaken by His Mighty Roar!

So I will spend every moment, and I will waste all my wealth,
Jesus, come break me open, and pour me out for Yourself.
For I have burned all my bridges. I’m past the point of no return…
Jesus, let me be, yielded totally, and wasted for You.

Descant: I want to be wasted for you Lord (repeat)tumblr_myrya9xwTw1sv2qqoo1_500

The “Ditz” Factor: Loving Liberty

I am a huge ditz these days…and loving it!  I mean, the last several weeks has been nearly a laugh a minute for my baby and me as I forget things, or fail to see an obvious joke or factor, and then repeat it…you know what I mean, don’t you?

The ditz factor

What I used to tease her over, and she is not a ditz very often, just once in awhile.

She thinks payback is sweet, and she is right!  Because this is something that never. could. happen. before.

Nope…never a ditz.  Why?

Vigilance.

Self check, 60 times a minute, 60 minutes an hour, and 24 hours a day.

I had no idea how deeply and firmly I had me by the throat, choking down everything that might get me in trouble, that might get me called names again that scarred my memory forever like burns…I had developed these elaborate means by which to censor myself, and do it all unseen or “unknown”.

Except my baby knew…because I was not happy at the core, and I was not full at the core, and I wanted to not be without any good reason at all.  It is only because of the Love of the Father, and Jesus and Lady Grace that I am here at all, and that is a pure fact.  I find myself well within the 41% of all transgender people who consider suicide strongly, and yet by Their grace alone, not in the larger statistic of those who follow through.

So now?  My estradiol works a wonder war on my poverty of soul, as it connects my body and my soul/mind/heart.

At last my brain is finding congruence and affirmation (slowly) whenever it talks to my body in their own talky language…they don’t fight and argue and separate anymore.

So I don’t check.  Double check.  Triple think.  And the ditz factor climbs…I do theorize that the estradiol snickers as it runs around and lights the “ditz onboard” lamps in my soul.  My baby says she laughs more now than in all the years combined (and I did make her laugh lots then, cus I figured that it was the least I could do for her, and it covered the sorrow in my core).

And the love keeps flowing, the light keeps growing, and my heart keeps knowing that

I am Charissa Grace, and I am under the Mercy and I’m okay.

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Song for the Prodigals: Back in Your Love

When the dark night surrounds me, and I can’t find my way thru
Across the breakers like a beacon–You call my name and bring me back to You.
In the raging storm You calm me, with a pure love like I never knew,
Like a tree, You give me shelter, You comfort me and bring me back to You

Chorus
Back to Your Love, Back to Your Light
Back to Your arms, You make it all right!
Back in Your Love, Back in Your Light,
Back in Your arms, You make it all right
when I come back to you.

In the heart ache, in the sorrow, it seems like there ain’t nothin true,
And I can’t even face tomorrow, but there ain’t nothin else to do.
That’s when Your sweet sweet love comes tumbling down, tumbling down,
to resurrect me from the tomb
You light the flames of Holy Passion, and then You draw me ever back to You.  (Chorus)

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Coming Back Home (A country lament, sung waltz-style. Summer 1997)

(written while studying the parable of the prodigal son…we are all that prodigal, profligately wasteful.  But the worst thing is that some end up being the older brother…prideful and haughty and stingy with love and grace and forgiveness.

And who would I aspire to be like?  The one heart here that is tender and kind and generous.)

 

I’ve been on the road such a dusty long time,
felt the heat of the sun fill my head with cold chimes.
And freedom ain’t all that its’s cracked up to be,
cuz Your tough tender heart’s far away, far from me.

And I’m longing to see You, and look in Your face,
and listen to Your laughter filling my lonely place.
But I’m on my own now, so I howl at the moon,
and remember when You told me ’bout the dish and the spoon.

I’ve made lotsa money, but not many friends.
It’s a hard thing to figure–where one starts and one ends.
The wind blows so lonesome thru a heart I thought free,
and it rattles the memories of You loving me.

So I cling to the hope of Your welcome to me,
and I’d rather be Your slave than be lost but free!
So Master…no…Father…I surrender to You,
and I’m coming back home, I surrender to you.tumblr_n51bgpQYha1r2zs3eo1_500

 

 

Like A Seal Upon Your Heart (a song of Devotion, April 1993)

(This is a simple chorus, a song of devotion.  I wrote this for our home group, and we would sing it as I strummed the guitar and led the chorus.  I can’t play any longer, as the arthritis plays hell in my hands…but when I found this, jotted down on the back of an old church bulletin, it was indeed a pearl saved by Mama, and given back to me.

The interesting task of processing these all now, looking back with eyes that know my tender woman’s soul trapped inside this testosterone ravaged body, well, so far it has had the effect of helping me to embrace that I was not insane then, however crazy I felt.

I freely admit that it was lil songs like this that were all that kept me going.)

Set me like a seal on Your heart.  Wear me like a ring on Your finger.
Give to me Your love that is stronger than death,
and set me like a seal upon Your heart.       (Chorus)

Carve Your Name into my heart.  Write upon my life with Your finger.
Hold me to the cross my love, and pierce my ear forever,
and carve Your Name into my heart.          (Chorus)

Let me know the beating of Your heart.  I will give my life for Your pleasure.
There is nothing in this world that I desire more,
than just to know the beating of Your heart.         (Chorus)

Chorus
For I love you, I love you!
With all my heart, with all my heart,
Yes I love you, I love you,my Beloved, I love you

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River (1982)

(This will be the last of several posts of old old OLD poems!!  I marvel at the changes, the reductions and growths, the increases and diminishments, and always that distant empty place in the poems that is no longer there in what I write…sooo strange to me, these words so familiar and yet as if written by a stranger.  And so I was…a stranger.)

 

the river in its abundance
all about us, as we stood
on a warm rock to wash

slowly
smoothing with long
sliding strokes

our soapy hands along each other’s
slippery cool bodies

quiet and slow in the midst of
the quick of the
sounding river
Our hands were flames
stealing upon quickened flesh until

no part of us
but was
sleek and
on fire

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A Heart’s True Home

Composed and circumspect she walks
twixt times, twixt places and spaces,
inside, outside, hither and yon thru low valleys
and casual embraces.

Grey skies snug down and nestle around
her quiet composed aching soul,
for they noticed her sighs and longings for someone
to come and complete and make whole.

Hugged by the sands and kept in the crook
of the far horizon’s safe arms,
Her treasure lays there…in the shimmery air
just before, just beyond bitter harm.

So the snuggly grey clouds settle velvety soft
and kiss gently on her longing cheek,
and then gracefully lift having blessed the sad rift
with gifts greater than all tongues could speak.

Worlds, realms, and tangled realities torn
are the territories she roams.
And just maybe…glad someday…she finds her desire,
and at last her heart finds her True Home.

Until that far day she will welcome the Grey
and its precious and bright silver lining,
She walks glad and in Beauty set free of dull duty
and free from her long lonely pining.

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What I Like

I like good books
under a snuggly blanket
while the rain scritches
at the gutters and windows.

I like preparing fresh food
chop by pile, and then
going to heaven on the aromas
and dance as they come together
into a dish of delicious love.

I like singing
on my bike
while I ride
through the mountains
as trees sway
and rivers prance
and wind roars
in my heart
while the hawk
glides above all.

I like writing,
and writing poetry
especially.

I like talking with people
about their hearts.

I like saying that
just right word
of kind encouragement,
and then seeing someone
do the impossible.

I like studying out new insights.

I like spending time
with Mama and
feeling Her love for me
where once I felt
only lonely shame.

I like Jesus
and His funny jokes
and sometimes capering ways.
And that He cries.

I like romance movies
where it all ends like it’s supposed to
but surprises me anyway.

I like teaching people
about wine, and watching them
wake up to a
whole new world.

I like hearing my kids
tell their thoughts and
being taught by
their fresh perspective.

I like making music
and listening to music.

I like having
a whole bunch of people over
and making a huge feast for them,
insisting they be free
to take joy in the food and drink
and fellowship.

I like being kind
and being a blessing.

I like driving
in the flow.

I like shopping
all day
with my oldest daughter
and then getting great food
and chattering together about
our awesome bargains
and red hot new look!

I like being with my baby,
me small and safe
in her loving arms
while we
talk the blackness
away.

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My Heart of Hearts

The dawn, peach fuzz on this dripping peachy day,
smelled like juice dribbling down my chin,
and musky yellow perfume.

Your earrings flashed in the sunbeam sneaking thru the blinds
Your eyes flashed, lamplights of love sneaking thru my blind
and gleaming like that cat Cheshire.

I intended to rip my heart from my chest
but it came free eager in my hand
which was covered by yours (I had not noticed that happen)
tumblr_mqtuqw1Evm1rwuj4qo1_500Fell from me like that peach
with groaning, heavy relief and ache
into your waiting basket (I was the only one there)

You carried me to bed, and there we sectioned our fruit
and fed each other with fingers, slick and sticky
and smelling of the peachy summer day

And we drowsed, and woke to find our hearts grown again,
except mine was now you, and yours was now me
Oh my Heart of Hearts, My Heart of Hearts.tumblr_mbyc264X6q1qllucco1_1280

My Heart of Hearts (sans images)

The dawn, peach fuzz on this dripping peachy day,
smelled like juice dribbling down my chin,
and musky yellow perfume.

Your earrings flashed in the sunbeam sneaking thru the blinds
Your eyes flashed, lamplights of love sneaking thru my blind
and gleaming like that cat Cheshire.

I intended to rip my heart from my chest
but it came free eager in my hand
which was covered by yours (I had not noticed that happen)

Fell from me like that peach
with groaning, heavy relief and ache
into your waiting basket (I was the only one there)

You carried me to bed, and there we sectioned our fruit
and fed each other with fingers, slick and sticky
and smelling of the peachy summer day

And we drowsed, and woke to find our hearts grown again,
except mine was now you, and yours was now me
Oh my Heart of Hearts, My Heart of Hearts.

Charissa is a sloppy happy teary mess o’ praise after watching Hezekiah Walker New Video “Every Praise” – YouTube

Constance…when I hear my blessed Mama living in the music of Her children as they sing, I burst into tears…literally every time.  When Precious Jesus is inhabiting the praise of His peoples, I cannot help the tears of joy that simply jump out of my heart and stream tangible baptisms of gratitude, and flowing fountains of inexpressible and unutterable thankfulness that The Lord has had mercy on me, this broken and alienated stranger in a strange land.

Even as a small child, this happened to me…and then I was ashamed, because boys don’t cry.  I always cried!!

Oh, it just feels sooo good to let my heart overflow and offer Him my own soul’s inner waters out from my eyes.

It doesn’t happen to me everytime I hear a worship song, or every time I hear a hymn, or sing even…but there are those times…if you were lucky enough to be in a church that wasn’t so freaking oppressive that Mama simply looked on from a distance, silently, Her incredible generous and compassionate essence quenched by the soul-stealing stench of pride and haughtiness…then you know that moment I am talking about.  Something just…changes!  The ceilings are gone…the floors are gone…horizons expand, and suddenly you know…you. know. That God is alive, and love.  That you are alive and loved.

As a small child, as a teen, and as a young adult, these times would happen, and I would hide myself away in Them, snuggled down my tearful face buried deep in Their side, and I would breathe my thankful utterances that in this awful and desolate land that I was sentenced to dwell in until I died, through no request or doing of my own was I born and then born a prisoner…I would tell them…Oh Lovely Lovely Shepherd (for that is who I talked to then, to Jesus the Good Shepherd who left the 99 and came to get me…Jesus the compassionate who had mercy on the prostitute caught in the act of adultery…Jesus the Healer who felt the touch of faith’s heart at the hem of His garment in the throng of thousands of grabby greedy desperate hands)…Oh Wondrous Shepherd of my soul…if I can have my sentence of life in prison punctuated and pierced by these moments of furlough and reprieve, however brief…then I will follow You always.  I promise and do so choose forever, come what may.

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And then I would often weep all night long…literally…draining out the sorrow, the self-loathing and the shame and despite for my awful awful self…I would pour out my thankfulness that even to a wretch like me They would draw nigh and commune with me…even humble Themselves to TOUCH me!

And They were faithful to be there…

And They were faithful to continually work over me, labor over me, in the womb of my imprisonment and dysphoria to ready me for birth…and when labor began They went silent, for the pangs and contractions had to be strong, had to be ultimate, had to take me past my limits.  Well, they did that, and I came home finally, came out finally to live and be born…

and the moments resumed, commenced once again.

Now?  Oh. My. God.  Mama took me under Her wing, and has been teaching me, Her tongue a good Theme.

So I would ask you to give the vid a shot, for at minimum you can hear the soundtrack that played while I bawled in utter thankfulness and total gratitude for life, for Life.

And at the maximum?  Have some tissues on the by!

Love and Grace be unto you in the richest most lavish extreme…

Charissa Grace the Grateful Girl forevertumblr_n4mf72qUM41rk1cbbo1_1280

Hezekiah Walker New Video “Every Praise” – YouTube.

Creation’s Communion (without images, for flow visually as a poem)

and High Mountains. 

Always High Mountains beckon me…
years of riding their stringent intractable slopes,
dizzying switchbacks,
and punishingly friendly gradients….oh High Mountains!
Sweat and tears my offerings,
and fitness and expiation
the blessings They bestowed upon me. 

How I long to share with you these feasts,
deep and austere
On this Golden Gravid Spring Day

 

On Notice!

Let the powers know
that I am being found,
am finding myself
and I am glad, and scared,
and soaring to depths, heights
hawking my way
through chasms and
slamming into depths and crevasses and
then piercing velvet dark
frosty air, rising, rising,
an eagle golden and free.

Let the Tetrarch know
that I will step forward
in grace and upon grace
a wounded-healer to be.57dcca2a25c7abbce57b0b42f3e53cd9And let the Prideful Patrons and
Practitioneers of Patriarchy
be put on notice:
If the sword of the healing-wounder
should ever bless my grasp
with its blue-bejewelled hilt and
silver redemptive sharp blade,
I will wield it with
remorseless pity, and soft relentlessness!
I will the rivers and seas follow,
to overcome by giving way.tumblr_n3004aNe8v1qllucco1_1280

And let the humble hear,
let the lost perk up to the echoes
of turtledoves and
the heralds of hummingbirds
and the buzzing of many drowzy
busy bees that Mama has
opened Her hives, and
honey pours once again
to all those
famished and forlorn.Von

Harvest Dream

Last night we had a rain storm
to beat the band…wind blowing hard,
rainy fat little lakes of water
hurtling along and surfing the windy currents.
The air was wild and electric, fresh.
We left the bar and walked.
We were stirred up and feeling wild.
She was practically vibrating
with desire and pent up energy,
and wanting to be wild,
so I drove us to the vineyard

…late…

and among the groaning
vines fat with fruit
we took off our shoes and clothes
and let the weather drench us
with its furious grip!
The grass was tall between the rows,
the dirt sodden around the vines,
and there we ran,
and tackled each other,
completely stark naked!!
Down to the earth we fell,
again and again,
rolling and kissing…

and everything.tumblr_n284i9tGMN1qj9ytzo1_500

Later, we sprinted to the winery,
and rummaged for extra clothes, towels,
and a coffee maker and fridge in the crush.
We dried each other off and
put on some warm clothes
and then let our others dry
while we had coffee,
and then beer.
The space heater toasted us up,
until we were warm enough
to go to the cellar…

in the ground, in her womb,
the smell of yeast pungent
like the smell of us.
I grabbed a couple bottles
and a wine key (to heaven),
she carried lots of blankets and candles.
We went to the deepest quietest place,
back in the corner and had…

Communion…

I the bread and she the wine.
If I am dreaming,
never wake me,
for it is bliss.tumblr_n29vrxYJQR1risr9ko1_1280

 

 

Infection Crucinfection (Easter 1980)

{I have been contemplative over the difference of this Easter compared to any other one in my entire life.  It has me looking back, at old poems, old journals, etc.  Thus the spate of poems 3 decades old.

I have changed a lot, and I think that is good.  I think my poems are better now, too…Terraces, right??

This poem was the first poem about Easter for me.}

 

He sat in the straw
mute as a rock
crudely undone.

Ranker than swine
coarse to our nails
we swung to our job.

Infected with Truth
He hung in the dust
Drenched to His Skin,
Bleached to His Bones.

Then He went
all the way
coming to
common terms
with loss as
Blind as Wind.

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Landscapes

Tell me landscapes are frames of mind.
I believe words have meaning!
No gift will do…tell me what this means

to you…

I’ll come at summer’s end,
Your spirit’s sky, the highlands of your

Bearing, your heart’s Blue Night
Here, the rainbow above winter is your
Banner, your face a masterpiece

a landscape

Tell me landscapes…
I believe words…
No gift…
Tell me…

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Thank You in the Pain (December, 1979)

O Boundless One, in Whom Wisdom doth dwell
You calmly exercise Your purging blade.
One cut, and I scream Cease! This pain is hell,
But You heed not this reckless renegade.

Strife finds the wounded sparrow of my soul,
and stalks it without quarter through the heat,
in dark-fire trials of purgation patrol
strife captures its cut quarry in deceit.

And then You demand thanks in all the hurt!
With that command my sparrow falls from flight!
Yet only in its fall am I alert
to the reasons for praising Your foresight.

Thank You for the pain’s sweet overthrow,
a sparrow cannot fall and you not know.

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Gifts you give yourself

Forgiveness, towery and meritorius
when viewed from the lowly valleys and dales
of hard hurt and wounded ways
stands, stentorian and stark and stately.
To approach such lofty heights from there
seems tough, seems stubbornly sacrificial,
and requires a great provisioning
of the heart’s overflow into Mercy’s Rivers.

Acceptance twins from the next ridge over,
and it seems to wounded eyes
that these noble and lofty houses
aspire to heaven,
aspire to grandiose airy grounds
to weed out the weak-willed and shuffling supplicants,
the plodding and pitiful pilgrims
who failed to fully count the cost.

And yet if one but persists and never lets go
their grip on the Garment’s Hem
they will themselves be drawn up and sunder,
like doves mounting up in the velvet dawn
And discover comely cottage, cozy cabin,
home at last and free,
And finally receiving
the gifts you give yourself.

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Random Acts of Kindness: That phrase is an oxymoron!

It drives me crazy when I hear folks speak of performing a “random act of kindness”!!  They do not understand the nature of random, and the nature of kindness.

Oh, I know what they mean to say…they are advocating the being kind to anyone you meet with no thought of gain or profit to yourself.  A great sentiment and I affirm it, and aspire to it as well!

BUT:  if it is “random”, then why does their need to be an exhortation to do it?  Does not the exhortation itself, if heard, processed, received and acted upon obliterate randomness?  Randomness is mindless, complete and utter chance happening regardless of if there is a consciousness aware of it and witness…or not.

I submit it is impossible for a human being to do anything random, ever.  I think that our very humanness eliminates “random” from possibility.  Now, things can happen to us in a way that is, if not random, at least very close to it…but what we do about it, how we receive them, or react to them, all that involves choice.

And here is another thing…why is there even a need to exhort one another to be kind in the first place?  I think it is because it is not the natural thing for us to be inherently kind.  In fact, it is in many ways unusual, or we wouldn’t feel so great when someone is kind to us.

Kindness:  it is a conscious choice to treat someone in a way that is higher, better, more loving…it is noble, and thus rare and admired when it is seen or experienced.  Nothing.  Random.  About.  It.

Let me add my exhortation…love everyone whom you are privileged to meet…treat them better than yourself, and prefer them and their needs to your own.  Do not just love those who love you, or be kind to those who are kind to you…anyone can do that.  But aspire to be kind to the stranger, the alien and fatherless, the widow and those who mourn.

True Kindness is measured by what you do for the ones you have absolutely no chance to benefit from in return.

No get out there and…

BE.

KIND!

Love, Charissa

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Eternally Hers

Always up, awake…
remnants of the past
Haunting my soul,
revenants of violence
And pain…

Learned habits of quiet,
silence imposed by rage
And the towering
pressure of anxious abandonment
Echoed into the present
from the past
And prophesied future
travails.

But she came,
into my life like dawn…
Kisses healing,
touches soothing,
And whispers igniting
Fire in my belly
and wet desire
Slick and sweet and…
Ummmmm.

She is real,
she is true and
has taken me
Like a buyer takes a home,
moved into me
And with me.
I am lost…
and I am found.

Her face,
her mouth,
her tongue,
her hair
Brushing my thighs
as she works,
and drinks,
And imparts and gives.
Her cheeks
her lips
her breasts fountains
That I suckle,
at long last
finding my soulmate,
my Lover,
my sister…
yes my mother,
who suckles me.

Thank you darling for you,
for true,
for real and forever.
You have rescued me,
delivered me,
and I will ever be grateful
And make me
an altar of love
unto you.

Love…your Charissa Grace

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There’s an app for that!

Her eyes bugged out
(like reason on the run)
and spittle flew
as she waggled her sign
and bawled her slogans
like incantations.
She thought she was sharing Jesus…
she thought in vain,
as people parted
and passed her by
like the Red Sea shrinking
back from the touch
of Pharaoh’s Army tred.

But one true girl,
too young to see
her crazed and frothing fear
marched up to her
like Moses’s Staff,
and tugged at her
drab and brown mask,
until the woman noticed
and looked down,
to see what missive
the little gift of grace might impart.

“Ya know there is an app for that!”
she said forcefully!
The woman’s eyebrows crawled up
like earthworms from the light,
and the girl saw her question,
and simply answered
“For hate and meanness,
there is an app for that.

It’s called Love”.

She walked away,
and the woman was left behind,
bereft of even her hate…
but pregnant with
the path and possibility of following
where a little child will lead.

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On the notion that everything happens for a reason…

We have all heard it, have we not?

“It’s all good…everything happens for a reason.”

That line is used as a salve and as a panacea to any and all things not understood or sensible to us.  And the implication is that we are supposed to just go with the flow and let this reason manifest.  Far too often, this results in a sort of hollow fatalism which results in our justifying any action that we wish to pursue after we stamp our experience with that cliché.

But let’s stop a minute…what is the reason everything happens??? 

Is it always the same reason that everything happens?  Does each thing happen for a different reason?

What if the reason is evil?  Meaningless?  Absurd?  What then?

When atrocities occur, are those happenings for a reason, and if so, is there a reason to stop them?  To let them continue?

See…it is the vague pithiness of that assumption that deeply disturbs me in my core.  I think that it is a modern quan cribbed (as so much of our law, morality and guidelines for living in our culture are) from the remains of foundational bedrock spirituality bequeathed to us by Christendom, when it was vital, alive, and dangerous.  I think that it comes from this truth, penned by the great thinker Paul of Tarsus:  “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose“.

Do you see that?  There is a condition!  Similar to our own experience when we wish to help someone mired in something bad for them–a habit, an addiction, a bad relationship, bad choices–it is impossible to truly help someone who refuses to embrace and receive that help!

Free will is a bitch!  And it is the fulcrum that pivots our lives from one side of the truth that everything happens for a reason to the other side of it, which is God involving Himself in our lives and changing what is happening into something that ultimately is for our good.

Right now, it is true indeed that everything happens for a reason, and that reason is that this world is deeply broken and wounded by sin and death.  No, not just the countless acts, great and small, which are mean, evil, venal, and self serving…sin and death are powers that have entered in and taken us hostage to their icy and implacable hold.

But it is also true that God has loved, does love, and will love us enough to get Himself dirty and covered in filth on our behalf, and through His involvement transform and resurrect our purpose and destiny into one that fills us with life, love and hope.

For those reading who already know that I urge you to comb back thru the recent events in your life and recalibrate…root out the sloppy thinking and fatalistic resignation to the happy illusion that it will all just work itself out…it won’t!

For those reading to whom the concept of loving God and choosing to be called according to His purpose is new:  I invite you to consider asking God first of all what His purpose might be…what Love is…and for Him to begin to dialogue with you regarding the possibility of choosing to love Him.

Everything happens for a reason, and God, who loves us, cares enough to cause all things to work together for good if we let Him, if we open the door to Him by our free will and choice to love Him.

Pedantic words perhaps to some…but no less true for it.

Love,

Charissa Grace

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Flawless Trans Women Carmen Carrera and Laverne Cox Respond Flawlessly To Katie Couric’s Invasive Questions | Autostraddle

I am sharing this post, and hope that you would click thru to see the story and video.  It is a fabulous example first of all of how easily and literally without awareness it is for cis-gendered people to do things to transgender people which they would never ever even think to do to cis-gendered people.

Secondly, it is also a great example of how to handle things with Grace and Kindness…far too often I find that we are so very sensitive and hyper aware of any slight, no matter how small.  It seems in our culture today that regardless of gender, sexuality, political persuasion, or religion we are by and large eager to take offense and cannot wait to grab those arrows of offense and stab our own selves with them!  It is is if we want to be infected with that poison, and then we turn around and start trying to infect others

No wonder that zombie movies and shows are so popular now…they are a metaphor for a process in our time by which it seems that we make ourselves and one another into spiritual zombies, rampaging about biting and devouring one another.

Let’s all just stop!  Step back.  Take a breath…and then simply

be kind…be merciful…be full of grace.

kindness-wave

Imagine…no not a world where there is no heaven, or religion, or any of the drivel that John Lennon sang about, for that very philosophy was already tried by the communists of Russia and Stalin’s regime, to the tune of nearly 100,000,000 deaths…that same philosophy was adhered to by the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia…

No…imagine a world where each person actively sought to just be kind…to just show mercy…to just be full of grace…

What is required?  Do justly, love mercy, walk humbly, and love your neighbor as yourself.

See these two amazing human beings, and glean…maybe you too will be inspired as was I to strive to be a kinder and more gentle person.

Blessings,

Charissa

Flawless Trans Women Carmen Carrera and Laverne Cox Respond Flawlessly To Katie Couric’s Invasive Questions | Autostraddle.

My Heart a Book of Love

My Heart a Book of Love

A book of love, composed by stilted hand
And tongue, stilled by True Beauty’s Blessed Face
Ah! Crippled yet compelled to rise, to stand
And take my heart and blood and make my case.

But ’twere ink blood, and tongue a fearsome sword
I’d be dry, drained before I’d scarce begun
To transcribe my desire and cut the cord
That binds my soul to earth’s dark woeful run.

A  thousand swains, a thousand thousand more
Slain by this tongue become the sword of love
Would give but just a drop of ink, no more
The blood of every poet’s not enough!

Doomed if I write, doomed if I do not write!
Ah Blessed Doom! I yield to your sweet Light.

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