The Keepers (For JD, my keeper)

The keepers are all that remain, the ones
with both feet anchored to Earth
and their hair being pulled by the stars
to the Milky Way and Beyond

They’ve learned how to swallow it all, it all,
the medicine of ghostly tragedy
they can hear the high keening stories
the stories of tender hearts’ piercings

The keepers, the ones that remain, remain
they keep the connections to meaning
they keep the transitions so sacred
and they bridge life and death with their bodies

they become that bridge, graceful, suspended, suspended
unseen and constructed from blood
and composed in the song of the blood and the sweat
and revealed in the sacred teardrops

and they stretch over oceans with skin, with their skin
they anoint with the oil so sacred
of trauma endure-ed and conquered
by outlasting its flailing last gasps

and they hold in the dark, in the still dark
like an armor that never needs donning
and that never need be taken off
they are Mama’s Heart in skin and bone

The keepers are all that remain, the ones,
The ones too stubborn to leave
the ones too persistent to wipe out
The keepers alive in Her flame

Like Sunlight, Like Fog | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I am so enjoying posting old work for a while…
certainly so many things rushed out of me in the trauma flow that
many nuggets got carried further downstream than where people stand to pan for the gold.
I’m often told I’m confident
(like the march of blazing sun
across the hills of night
awakening each day)

I’m told I look like rushing waves
that roll in from the sea
and pounce upon the sand
in joyful swelling sounds

This makes me laugh inside my heart
because I’m more like fog
that silent moves unsure
which way it wants to go

But still committed to the march
inexorable and slow
to be true to myself
in soft embrace sold out

to be completely there
and wrapped around all things
I cherish in the hug
of insubstantial presence

there, and yet untouched.

Source: Like Sunlight, Like Fog | Charissa’s Grace Notes

The Center of All Things | Charissa’s Grace Notes

I am reposting a lot of old poetry…not because there is nothing new…but because these are some very nice lil poems that few eyes ever noticed…and they deserve a moment.

I sat down by the fire
in the middle of the roses
planted all around
and fragrant with buzzy bees
so busy in the dusk.

The air shimmered
as you approached
skimming across the grass
like a clipper ship
under full sail and
high on the sea.

And when you sat down,
beside me there in
the crackling fragrant
breezy busy air
it was like the entire
universe had come home
and I was at the center
of all things.

Source: The Center of All Things | Charissa’s Grace Notes

When Words Are Written Here

there, in clouds and nothing but clouds
above and below as I…walked?  Or did I
swim, or fly, and in the distance
hearing songs of you…and clouds

obscure and yet they also part
and thru the silver mist She came…
Her Heart and Ears and Eyes (the singing)
stilled and still and still She came Singing

and in this cloudy parting is the only knowing needed
that I am Her child, Her emissary
sent to bend what thinks itself straight
and straighten what is broken, bent.

Me the paper, pen and ink
Mama, unsayable, beyond the think,
the clouds, the parting, emerging and wordless
song…and She the emerging and yes

the clouds parting

when words are written here

 

We Happy 15 (A sending poem)

Ya know, even Jesus,
being a dude and all,
didn’t get it!

He thought He
could do it all
with just 12…
and Himself of course!

L. O. freaking L!!

What else would you
expect from a man?
largeThey always think a few inches is a ruler!

“Hey buddy, suck it up Bro!
Rub some dirt on it
Call it good”!

Umm…yeah no.
We know different,
am I right?!?!

Every woman knows
it takes 14
to make a goddess!
A living zesty busty

hippy jazzy sleek

fat hale hearty

slick  and

slippery

oh so yummy

JUICY LUCY GODDESS
made of us…we happy 14.
b89664597c94086b866304dff9b2f96e

Our Hearts have twined,
our souls have moved

And Mama, She poured
out Her glue

until
We have

elided, danced
and birthed and
been born US!!!
15095577_1454606701220303_1780892594189948118_n
goddess awake and so divine
and we decree our ministry:

the mission of the Broken Pot
forever pouring, ever filling

ever loving, ever willing
always welling upward welling

HEALING

Then?  Mama Herself
presses in and on to us
(We Happy 14,
extension of Her face,
Her mask created!)

And caps this Broken Pot of wee
with Holy Trust and Sacred Mercy
running burning everywhere

1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13+14

And Mama…

We Happy 15
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Deeply Well (French Pantoum)

You are a Many-Moon now
Baby, deeply well

My Conjurer-Priestess
just like Me.
Image result for meinrad craighead
MAMA!!
IT HURTS!!

I HAVE DUG YOU OUT
My Conjurer-Priestess
just like Me!

My Consolation is Sweeter…and
I HAVE DUG YOU OUT!
You shall not run dry…for

My Consolation is Sweeter.
37a0871243a3dc61dd16b6d3e9f5ec4d
MAMA!!
IT HURTS!!

You shall not run dry…because
you are a Many-Moon now,
Baby…deeply well

T78 INT 61

 

I Am Charissa Grace

I am Charissa Grace
and not your dumb head case
I’ll muss your hair, throw off your pace
and maybe even kiss your face
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I overflow permitted banks
and needle apoplectic cranks
cus I unsettle everything
I am wild WILD WILD thus I sing
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of mountains dancing, winds untamed
and my heart free in Mama’s Name

 

I Generate Content

Dear Constance…this is not for you, as you are demonstrably here because you enjoy reading.

Reader…this is for you:  I produce the content of Grace Notes for my own sanity and therapeutic mental health.  I write what I want, when I want, and how much I want.

If it is too much for you, then fade away.  Others have before you…and others will after.

For I burn on helium and hydrogen, I am a halogen torch and I am flame and flame…

I cannot not write.  I cannot moderate for some expectation or desire.

So-called friends have given up, gone away.  Well…you can go too…or just get in the boat and ride the rapids.

Besides…the ride will give you the smallest inkling of what it is like to have this flow come OUT of you!!  If you think the navigating is sumfin…imagine the containing and releasing of it.

Hey…Ima keep following hard after Mama…in a dry and thirsty land.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissa
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It’s On…

it’s on the naked branches
stripped bare by winter lashings
frozen crushings and dim light
dark night and the howls and owls
and the lonesome silent music
of lost longings and long waiting…
tumblr_ntsqulyiKA1rgewupo1_1280
it’s on the roof built solid
so snug against the cold
and cupping all the golden warmth
that glows inside the heart
and sings inside the soul
of Spring returning fast…
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it’s on my face that Mama splashes
all Her Love, Her Grace and Peace
She beautifies my ashes
She oils my grieving heart
She clothes me in Her Raiment
and purifies my spirit

and I sing once again
reborn and free again.
tumblr_o105vhcKD61tb40lbo1_1280

 

And Gold All Underneath

Behold, the darkness thick and lurking, growing
like ennui in my soul, in my heart doomed and waiting
in this long moment, seemingly forever
it will remain, this painted grey, this second…
28_52_by_sarah__g-d721bv0
this minute is an hour is a decade
and I exist here…floating in the nothing, growing-shrinking…
it defines me as some-thing…no…as Some-one
whose breaking renders her unbreakable…
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
The growing darkness lurking, insubstantial,
The river Ennui flowing out to nowhere, to everywhere
The shocking joy and wonder also shining, in
This painted grey, and gold all underneath.
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Her and Me and Your Futility

When you shattered my heart
delicate globe shot thru with
tunnels and annals
and columns and canals…

when you stormed at me
on me in me with your
stoney snow of bitter black
granite and jagged icy nuggets

of frozen flecks so broken
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She reached with fingers eager
to bleed upon the bloodless drained
edges of my torn and shattered soul,
fingers white and tender to the slash

and picked each cutty-edgy razor piece
up off the quick-sand floor
and put them all together, jumbly
but Her pattern knowing, more

than what I was before
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And then She made a hole thru which
the eye can see, the heart can hear
kaleidoscope music and dance
of Her and me and your futility

and so I spin now, caught in moments
stark, or velvet, or even gentle fuzzy
and simply refract light from the
million shattered pieces reassembled

in mosaic magic, kaleidoscopic and supreme.
tumblr_o1gz3uLI7P1u19ezpo1_500

This Speckled Star-lit Night

Ohhh Love,
it longs with me for thee
even though we’ve forgotten
thy name’s shape and feel and sound
and the way it breathes in me,
the way it speaks to me
in whispers, like wind
whispering between the clouds
to speak to earth
in breaths from beyond
tumblr_o0p5xltHaP1trdezwo1_1280
like the way
you touch my ankle
when we sit upon
the floor there,
by the fire
in the speckled-star-lit night
gathered close
outside the house
just like a mama bird who nestles
down so gentle on Her chicks…
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I miss you terribly
and ache so,
ever in this moment.

The Song Of Loss And Gain

Steeples and graves stand marked in memory,
by a crucifixion making way for the last to be first,
and the guilty pardoned, making way for
the creature and The Creator

(the Dying/Living One Living/Dying,
dying/living here, within me too,
I who lack in every grace
to just die already,
so full of Great
Grace to live
always)
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it’s a sign so mysterious and standing
at the core of history the core of the world.

CORE:
suffering,
death, tragedy,
and sad sorrow He
(Supremely human He)
submitted willingly hanging
doggedlybroken and bleeding
holding our infirmities in
His bloody Holey Hand
(He’s Got The Hole
World In His
Hand)
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it’s a gift of forgiveness
and assurance, depiction
of the depth of divine mercy
and hope of God and us.

Is this querulous song enough
to quiet restless running thoughts
and ease unanswered questions’ ache,
that burn so cold in hearts laid low
in suffering, hearts whose hope is seized
and despair left laying in its wake
(suffering-wake)
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But we must willingly carry
defeat and thirst and emptiness
through to the end of darkness, to
the end of self, and to the world’s long waited end
bringing meaning to suffering and peace to hearts in pain

in this symphony of blood
in that song of loss and gain.
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I Love Mama’s Hands

I love Mama’s Beautiful Hands
so dirty with me, with us.

I love that She is not distant from me
But draws close and plunges to muss

My hair, my heart, my head and my soul
She molds and She mushes and messes

And then She will wash me and clean me right up
And put pleats in my Lonely Tresses

Like Mama

and i must find the courage
to smear me on the world
like oranges on the morning
smeared on the fingertips
that pry with nails sharp

i must be resolved
to be spread thick and creamy
on hearts so dry and crumbly
and tasteless in their leaven
like butter sweet and saltytumblr_nqkwd8yiUl1rb2p37o1_1280i wanna be like Mama
so generous of spirit
so purposeful of heart
so resolute of vision
so loving in the tumult

let me light the longing twig
let me quench the burning branch
flame to tinder tender
and rain to thirsty flames
and known by Mama’s Nametumblr_nuj67qgboo1ufutspo1_540

For JD

i clothe myself in wonder
for you, i wrap myself in night
i am your pirate plunder
you can have without a fight

the milky way my shining sash
the moon my pendant true
and cricket song my lingerie
i give myself to you

you there, so strong, so brilliant
straightforward as blazing suns
your ready laugh, your brewing storms
the way your rivers run

from mountains high, jagged austere
you flow into the sea
for you i wait, indigo here
for you to give you me

we…night and day bonded and true
and joy our wonder-fates
you wrapping me, me inside you
Mama’s happy litter-matestumblr_nkw43yNglr1th6k9do1_1280

Litter-Mates At Mama’s Side

Laying in yellow squirming straw
covering us, blind and hungry,
comforted by Heat and Smell of Milk,
of Mama-El-Shaddai so calm,
so Placid, nuzzling us
to Her founts of feasting, blessing…
shaping.tumblr_nj8axqwRES1rx3qvso1_500We nursed there, of eternity,
grew fat together, our lean limber bones
learning, knowing, feeling
the shape and form of one another,
in the litter of our Mama
in the straw so dry and sweet
in the straw, that yellow heap…
in the close and quiet dark.tumblr_nnouejdqyt1u9pet5o1_1280Now our open eyes can see!
Can recognize that bonding
that our blindness thus bequeathed us
and our spirits simply understood
so long ago and far away
and leaning against
Mama’s side.Image 002Look at us! We are still just pups!
Still  just blind and hungry lil doggies
crying for Her comfort groans
But now?  We’re cloaked
inside these pink-tongued
long-limbed bodies
that run pastures all day long
and watch so fitful thru the night.tumblr_mvq8fapdjW1qzwnc1o1_1280The sheep think we’re big dogs (HAH!)
but I’m so glad to finally find
my straw sister, my truth untwister
to remember Then together
and to run with to Forever,
and discover that creation
is just Mama’s…tumblr_mlmzwwh6nq1rc8sbto1_1280milky undercarriage
as we howl
at the moon
and call for the Lamb to return
and the feasting Day of Marriagetumblr_ltl2raEOaD1qlmnabo1_1280

In Flames And Becoming (For Charissa, on her first birthday)

I lit myself on fire last night,
so deep within the forest green,
deep in the dark, and black with night,
this full sloe night of birth and dreams
and true becoming in earth brand new.tumblr_nqm8ejLNZa1t54znqo1_1280I found the heart of that deep secret wood
and there in its tough-tender core that lay
so quiet, t’was forever winter and brilliant
and glad in the glade and the still and the snows
and the frozen mists wreathed round that door       (Her Door)

and crystal light skittered in ice jewels that glittered
on burnished ground gritty, substantive and pebbled
and real…real like me…and that Ancient stone table
awaiting me waiting there, and charred remains…
hinting at that dazzling “forever-more.”winter-houses-11__880There…in the frozen deep heart so pure,
so true and alive in that rooted green wood
that beckoned me step into it with my courage
and my heart, my faith and my love,
my faith…in love and in Grace.

Why, you ask?
Why did I immolate my tender heart,
and my teary soul?

Because…

I’ve grown tired of misuse,
I’ve grown weary being taken
there, for granted and discounted,
not allowed to breathe or be…
and so I lit myself on fire
with the living breathing flames
and unbecoming sticks of me.tumblr_nr4qqmjdh91qat5pio1_500

Why?  Because…

The river called me, bid me come,
the fields wooed me to walk in them
amidst their wheaty woven tresses
and their rustly whisper blessings
words so urgent, speaking of
the needed fires that would burn
deep in the forest, fires of love
and burn me straight down to the ground
where Phoenix waits, my lost and found…

because the stars swam overhead
and flew across unfathomable deeps,
because the fox ran on the night
because its paws tattooed me sweet,
because the fires beckoned me…
I lit me there, me…blazing bright.

tumblr_nr4phfI7yH1qat5pio1_500There, in the flames my starved soul
it did remember its deep song,
words springing full in fiery dance
and I sang there in my one chance

to reclaim me…
and my own knowing of myself
and knowing this Divine Romance…

I came,

ghosty, buried, squirming there
outlawed by law, thus qualified
to call out Law once and for all,
as mere smoke drifting in cool night air
and dissipating…then disappeared!

OH! How I burned!

I danced in red flames fundamental,
so elemental and essential
in the drum beat, and embodied
in the whistle, in the call
and hue and cry, in fragile beauty
and in loss and in the cook-fires
and the dreamtime, when bereft and full of longing

OH…I burned there…
OH…How I burned!

In the forest…
In the snow…
I burned there…
Burned for Her
I burned for me.
Portrait-of-a-HeartI’m not going on without me any longer
and I’m not a mark, or soft sweet honey pot
for strange predacious thrusts of others, NO!
I know when things must die, must die

…and when those things must live.
I’ve learned to walk away,
I’ve learned to stay

as the watcher and the knower,
oracle and visionary and intuitive gold maker,
as creator, quiet listener, inspiratrice, clever inventor,
and a guide to vibrant life that lies so deep in the deep green wood
and that same life it glows in me, it grows in me and goes beyond
me always and no matter what may matter, what may come,
Come what may, come my way…
tumblr_nr3xil51X51slipiho1_500That was last nite…
the fire of my bones
Today I have me risen…
and walk the path of crones
I am centered, un-apolo-getic,
rooted in the truth and all that I am now is…

is raw and wild
with ancient knowing
of the blood
so fiercely flowing
thru the rivers
and the streams
in the creek-beds
of my bones.

Today’s the day
to rise from ruins
(necessary ruins precede my rise).
Today’s the day to burn away,
the old that is just not aligned
with truth that feeds
those fires hot
and fuels transformation.

All of the animals gathered and watched
what they thought was a glorious sunset
on the horizon, that far lost horizon.

But it was just me, burning, on fire,
and all ruins falling and Phoenix arising,
cus I lit myself on fire last nite.

I lit myself on fire…last nite.tumblr_nr4m20hSZM1qat5pio1_500

To The One Who Seeks My Faith’s Tender Throat With Teeth

I will never turn back.

I will never not Love God…why do you keep making that a condition?

When God has chosen (for what reason I know not, certainly not based on any merit I have, being the worst example of a human being that has walked the planet) to reveal Themselves, Their Beauty, well…

…the one to whom the revelation is given is slain forever…wounded forever and will forever bleed

love

and love

and love and love and love.

This is not about me, or about righteousness…it is about adoration.

I shall always always love Them, for They are Good and Kind, Clean and Pure, and have no shadow or smell of evil in Them.

If me renouncing Them is a condition for you, then you might as well go rave at Kilauea, go worship Krakatoa (if you can find him, blown apart in his own powerous pouty poofery)!  Go lay hands on gouts of liquid rock, let them run through your fingers and clench down their flow and see what happens…

your flesh will not burn nor melt neath their heat…for you are ice and icy, austere in your inviolate Olympus of self, and I find myself cast out of your heaven and consigned to your outer darkness midst the sound of your gnashing teeth…tumblr_noypg7Py1z1s5u2cno1_500But you have thrust me deeper into that side pierced and bleeding…you have pushed my face into His Heart Bloody with Boundless Love…you have cast me on my Mama’s Breast (the one for me, contained in Her deeps, She:  El Shaddai, the Many Breasted One with place for whosoever will…even you, dearest, even you…no…especially you).

I am my Beloveds’ and They are mine…it is by Their Hand and Word and what can I do?

To even renounce is to affirm for I use the Voice They gift to utter forth a word and thus it turns and leads me home again…

I will never

EVER

turn from Them, for with Them have I trusted my soul and I shall seek Them all the days of my life.

And the rest of you…who think that I have fallen into “sin”, into “sexual perversion”, into (you don’t even know, you just “know” it’s bad and tragic)…to the rest of you?

I cannot convey to you how truly irrelevant to life and love your gossip and gibbering is.  It is as consequential to me and my fate in the Hands of the Lord God Almighty as a flea is to the ocean.

I love Jesus and follow Him, for He has accepted me and declared me His own and worthy.
I love Holy Spirit, blessed Holy Spirit, my Mama who calls me Her own and instructs me in Her way.
I love Father…who is good and kind and generous and forgiving and always always smiling on me in the darkness.

I care not if you read this and judge me…don’t you get it yet?  My faith is not about you, and it never will be.  It just isn’t.  I no longer live to try and impress you, or please you, or deserve you.

I do not require you to say or do or believe or be like me in order to connect and laugh and love and live…why do you lay such requirement on me?  Because you will never get it.

I will never leave Them.  Never.

Found, at last, and in Them I shall dwell forever.

*All others, forgive this lil soliloquy…it is not for you unless you know it is…nothing to see here, move along quick*
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The Easy Walk-Away

It’s getting so old, so tired,
and it acts so new, so hep
so revolutionary…

It’s mere cold-love
all-dolled up in
cherry chapstik
and cheap mascara.

Nowadays it masquerades
as a mantra, this year’s model
on last year’s red carpet walk
while the fawning gather
and swoon…

while cold love kisses hearts
with curses, vows, orders
to walk away quick at the first sign
of imperfection or humanity.

Well, I like the trees that twist in the moonlight
and scrabble hard on the stones
and grab rocks, not to throw
but to grind into dirt
and eat from!

Joshua, Bristle Cone, Pinyon,
Mesquite, Juniper…

yeah, I’ll take them anyday,
thorns, stingy stubbornness
and faithful all day long
for centuries…

ain’t no walk-away in them
for sure…
ain’t no easy walk-way,
and my kind of people
those bristly-ass trees of
gnarled stubborn stick-to-it.

Big Mamas and lil mama
with a call of wake up
the moon is up
and canyon calling clear

in the night,
away from the easy walk-away
and into the long present
Today

Some Older Poems

Constance, I am working on a poem right now that is soo luscious and really just sorta pouring outta me…I am not trying to stopper the flow or even shape it right now.  It is just the gushing and bubbling up of deep things, layered in verigation and heavy with inference.

It will be in the future sometime when I am in the right space to begin sculpting, shaping, nudging things here and there…

So here are some poems from the past, in the meantime.

Ghosts
This poem is about a ton of things, and finds particular application to those who cast away on a foolish journey of thought and belief, or lack thereof…those who follow the siren calls of narcissism and nihilism so rampant in our world.

The Golden End
The irony (kind irony:  is that “kirony?”)…the Kind Irony of this poem is that the Golden End is just the beginning…

Sail With Me?
What are your boats?  “Empty yet not abandoned”?

Mama’s Clothes
The very cry of my heart, my soul, my all.

So…I am learning to dance on waves, walk on water.  I have discovered my wings, and they are large…

Will you join me?  The surface is as solid as what you look at…tumblr_nplgkyR1TG1t7chr3o1_1280

Mama With Me, Near Today

Constance…

How I wish that you could know…know…the Love of God…the Presence of Them in your core essence.

God has been so polluted and trashed by the low things that oppose Them.  God has been so misrepresented by complete morons who spin out of their corrupted souls a god made in their own image, and it is ugly, it is gross, it is cruel and it is crude…and most of all it is blind, dumb, and deaf, just like them.

God is Humble.  They pounce thru every single crack in human perception that shows the least openness to Them, and They shine…oh how They shine.

They have loved me.

And that is a wonder that breaks me open again and again and again and again and…

Holy Spirit of God…Holy Spirit is Their Presence here in this creation.  Jesus has ascended and is in heaven in this time and making all things ready.  So Their presence is Holy Spirit…and oh the honor of Her drawing me near Her, opening the Word to me to see Her…

She is like one of my poems…layers, hints, indirection, inference, and sometimes subtle in its baldfaced straightforwardness…this is Her.

And She is altogether good, and I love Her.

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

Reader:  I will never not love Her.

Never.

Your statements and judgments of Her are dust and lower than irrelevance.

Why do you fulminate and foam at the mouth because I love Her?  If indeed She was just a myth, why would you even care? I love Her, and it is to Her that I have surrendered, and willingly laid down control.

Tattooed On My Heart

I have seen some gawd-awful tattoos
Oh, it isn’t the theme so much…
it is the foolishness of letting
a needle that is marking permanence
and making marks that will last forever

be wielded by a clumsy hand,
a hand unloving, a hand unkind
worse, a hand that simply doesn’t care
or even know to care or have a clue
what Tender Mercy is

(on the wings of a snow white dove…)

I am thankful for Their Needle, Their Words,
Their Implacable Mercies that zing
again and again and again
to render marks eternal
indelible on my soul, forever

and rend my skin irrelevant
because They have become
Tattooed On My Heart

In Mama’s Sweet Relief

Those
broken shards,

*scream*

those brittle,
bright blasted shards

jagged and hungry and
so shockingly absent.tumblr_nnor8qCfSC1qas1mto3_1280

They yawn with full belly
and ravenous soul 
for more
death, more hurt, more

*unlife*

but I have them
in my sights, now.

I shall throw me down
on my sister’s wounds

I shall bleed my heart dry
with balm from Gilead 
and
I shall cry out
in constant consolation
from her inward partstumblr_nmp67xbYpb1t0vssco1_500

while our
Strong Soldier Sisters Stand
round about us 
outside and ringed
in winged-woman-might

and tender hearts

so knit,
so tight.tumblr_nnor8qCfSC1qas1mto5_1280

And in
your death place
I find
life transcendent

And in
my own
your laugh rings
so 
resplendent

we will survive
our screams,
our tears,
our grief

and rest together
in Mama’s Sweet Relief.tumblr_nn8kf3TxQa1qat5pio1_400

Mama I Need…

a word, just a wet sweet word
from Your lips Ruby and Red
with Redemption and Resurrection.

Mama I need
a touch, just a finger
upon my brow so thick,
so unfine and bony and ugly.

Mama I need
to hear You, near and dripping
in comfort and tender compassion

Mama, I need
to know if it even
matters or moves
anywhere that makes
a true lasting difference

Mama I need
a poem of purity
a verse that is pretty
a body that’s fit
and a being acceptable

tumblr_nan8syhnZH1turrjgo1_500

Dust and Ashes Redux

I fear
being able
to soundly navigate
through noisy choruses.

I fear
the blind spots
that I have—
and nurture.

The will of God
involves giving our lives
for the sake of others
on this downward path
this downward path of Jesus
that I follow
or try to.

She tears
my clenched fingers
from my own throat
She says
put others
before me
(interests, preferences, desires)
and this putting
endures beyond
stronger than death.

is there a resurrection
from this desperate
self-preservation?

is there a life raised
here/now
where I can matter
to someone
and result in
a shared existence
renewed,
restored
hopeful?

She says
I will only find out
when I seek not to save
but to lose my life

as I have said before
it is the season
of dust and ashes20150222_121045

…And Thus Find Rest Forever

delicate pink porcelain
abilities encased
in steel cold and smooth.
my heart recoils in sorrow…
and I sheath them in velvet
red and lined with gold brocade,
those porcelain abilities
trapped in cruel grey steel.

a monolithic aggregate
of standards, expectations
and end results I cannot meet
no matter how I try
it’s never good enough!

If I do miracles and magic,
nurture hearts and raise morale
in stony grounds and ice cold hearts
it’s just what is expected from me,
normal, uncommented on
and there I languish, emptied
and so hollow in the birth.

And the Bible tells me one thing
but the world flat contradicts Them
and my weary heart befuddled
goes to Stockholm for a moment
and agrees with the accuser
and I’m falling then, I’m tumbling,
falling, turning in the dark and formless void.

But Mama says I must not wallow
but must strip away the velvet red,
and let Her cut away the steel
and touch the porcelain inside
for life, for love, for others
and thus find Her rest forever.PaWT3El

THIS. Humility and Equanimity

I really admire Jay Z for this.  I have a feeling about this man…I think Mama sees depths and distances in him that he himself only has hints of.

I am hopeful that he doesn’t lose himself along the way and trade his heart in for diamonds…Mama must think very highly of him, as She has placed one of Her queens in his life.

I speak blessing to him, to them…Mama please preserve and metamorphize them!!

Ev

Grace on Grace on Grace

That young fool who ran to the pigs
and that old man who ran to the end
of the lane again, over and over
and over again, and the hearts there revealed
in the choices they made and the actions they took…

And the hard man who stayed behind
bitter and stiff in the work to be done
and estate to be gained and the putting in place
of a lazy young fool and an old sentimental man
soft in his dottery doting…

The Shepherd related this story of hearts,
common, ordinary and intertwined with each other
in intricate detail and boring old sameness.

This story, it echoes to all in the human race, ever…
but I always ponder in my heart another heart.
What of the mother of these slanted sons
and the wife of this kind-hearted father, what of her?

The mother of the prodigal son?(c) Royal Scottish Academy; Supplied by The Public Catalogue FoundationWas she allowed to the end of the lane to look yearningly
for her child headstrong and stubborn?
Did she put her healing hand on the strong haughty arm
of her eldest, so driven and hardened in countenance?

I think that she was with her youngest child
in her heart and her mind and her lullaby songs
in the lonely nights as she was sleepless and wakeful
and weeping compassionate tears for the blindness of youth…
and then holding the household together by day,
the buffer between tender father and bitter son
cut off by care from the heart of the other…tumblr_niuyotzFpD1sq90auo1_500She is the one who transformed ordinary pain
into foundations of all sins forgiven,
she is the agent of grace in this story
and that is why she is unmentioned and hidden,

as quiet as grass growing, loud as a heartbeat
the roar on the far side of silence at dawn,
she pulled back the curtain of tragedy
so the next Act of Amazing Grace could flow unceasing,
filling the infinite distance between lost humanity dark
and God in Their grandeur resplendent and generous
so full of Mercy and such Lovingkindness.

The prodigal son, the hard elder brother,
the father so tender, the Shepherd so gentle
and there…Mama…pouring out
Grace on Grace on Grace.tumblr_n4xx9l5k781tqglaio1_1280

…”and a little child shall lead them…”

Constance, I ran across this account from a blog aggregate site.  I am going to post it here without much comment, other than to say yes, I am aware of the scatalogical vocabulary, and urge you to overlook it in order to access the deeper truth.

It is towering to me that there is more of the gospel expressed in the lives of hearts that are simply oriented to love, regardless of dogma, orthodoxy or persuasion.

I wonder what would happen if we all practiced this sort of love, and left the judging and convicting and convincing to the One Person in the Entire Universe Whose job it is to do those things (Mama)?

Hmmmm…

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

spaceyacey:

Fuck i’m crying now

So my mother was up to her usual shit; calling me useless and entitled. Saying that I’m no longer allowed in the bathroom with a shower and I need to clean the other one by noon tomorrow morning or else keep in mind it hasn’t worked in 3 years.

I was hiding in my bedroom while my parents argued over who’s fault I was when my sister came in. She walked up to me and opened up her fist revealing a rainbow popsicle ‘best friends’ necklace. She thrust it into my hand and whispered that she wanted me to have it.

“because it’s a popsicle?” I asked

“no silly because it’s a rainbow. I know- I mean- I thought you’d like it.”

She then winked and told me that I no longer needed to worry about cleaning the bathroom because she had spent the past hour doing it for me.

This seems so petty and small until you realize that for the past two years my parents have been doing their darnest to get rid of me. My sister will admit that I’ve always been the scapegoat but since I came out it seems their attacks are more pointed.

My sister is 11. She has grown up in a homophobic home and listened to my parents bitch about “those damn gays” her entire life. A couple months ago I came out to her and told her the reason our parents have been threatening to kick me out or send me away. I explained that sometimes gay girls and gay boys are even beaten up by people, just because of who they love.

I cannot express how much her support means to me; perhaps I am not the one who’s wrong. If an 11 year old who has been taught nothing but hate, perhaps there is hope for the future.

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:  for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’

“Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink?  When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’tumblr_mvv942qCB71ry5naio1_400

host to Host

Here in the morning mist and cold,
wet sand between my toes and gritty
beneath my knobby weak knees
I remember the beginnings of this moment
years ago and culminating in this now.

I woke then, to find my heart had been torn open
then ripped from my heaving chest in one harsh yank
and there were towels and pads all round me
there beneath those storm cloud words still ringing
“Clean yourself up and go outside and play!”Image 002Those long years ago I learned to cry silent and hide my tears
on the insides of my cheeks where they would run back down
to pool inside that empty place my heart used to be.
I wandered and found places that I could pour me out.
I don’t know what hurt more:  the emptiness pouring out
or the tears running down and drowning me.
So I lay me amidst the flowers in the green grass meadows
and there I learned to abide, endure, persist…and yearn.tumblr_nhr7ihIf1n1rnsb2oo1_1280But that was then, and here, now…these long years later
and miles down time’s trail, I stirred myself up from underneath
my soft warm blankets and hot-tea hand warmers
and threw on my big boots and coat.
But I left my cane behind…limps are irrelevant when we are on our knees,
Yes?tumblr_niozsiDmhG1rg59vvo1_500My old Bowser knew to not even bother to ask, but still
he couldn’t resist “that” look…and his stickle-whine.
If my heart had not been torn out long ago
he would have hooked me, ya know?

I walked down the old beach access road
but my achy empty core walked contrary,
backwards in time to take on shape and form,
becoming in the memories the who I should have been
instead of this hollow shipwrecked me here,
kneeling in this moment…
I dreamed of what never was,
I sang of what should have been.
tumblr_mtnr4td5YI1s24shdo1_500Then I arrived at the ocean’s edge and just in time
for on the edge of memory the urge to jump had become great.
And so I stood, and let my tears run down outside my cheeks
while waiting for the sun to walk its path
to stand on the edge of the horizon, and then to jump
into the sky and make its run once more across the void.tumblr_me6fkg32As1r37et1o1_500The sun, the sand, the sea…
and me…stood there where they met.
My eyes roved over the curved graceful backs
of the waves swimming in droves while songs abound
until they found that old wreck run aground
on rocks, foolhardy in its balderdashy heedless thrust
against the foghorn blast and lighthouse beacon.tumblr_ni6vxzfGYI1tw1yvro1_1280Still there, rusty, sodden, and yet not much the worse for wear.
Its familiar hollow hull echoing my own empty hollow chest.
My locked-up knees began to tire, and then at last give way
and that is how I got here, in the sand,
on my knees at last…and waiting.tumblr_n57bhbuFqm1qf9n3ao1_1280and in that place my heart should burn inside
at last I felt the rising of a voice, or was it the rising of a tide?
A fountain? A spring, welling up in supplication
as all my yearns found wing and from my lips they flew
into the heavens, past the marching sun insistent
to land at last safe there in Mama’s lap.

And now…now.
Kneeled here…I listen.
I listen for the Word
come down to take up residence
within my empty chest,
to become a presence Present,
to have become substantial substance
and I think maybe I can become
a host to the Host.

Regardless…kneeled here, I cast it all away to Her
and let myself diminish, grow less and become more.
And I am grateful for Her answer
in the graceful break of waves
and the ever rushing sound
of Her forever Kisstumblr_nioedv74sT1rn12zko1_1280

The Crossing

Shuffling back and forth between…

night and day
week and week
(weak and weak,
strain and struggle)
sighs and sorrows

…the pain of this passage
of time and tears
is present always,
palpable still,
pulsing in my yearning heart
gone nova with the memory.n-DEPRESSION-large570I lay awake midst pain and memory,
I neither sleep nor slumber
but instead ache and remember…
I re-member, piece by peace,
arrivals and departures.
We wear memories and longings
like stained t-shirts and chinos
and shod in our torn sneakers
we shuffle down the path,
so pebble-strewn and painful,
so rough hewn, uneven
and inevitable.

As soon as we arrive,
our hearts know we have to leave.
As soon as we leave we burn,
knowing that we must return!
Each journey punctuated
by our songs sung in the night…

songs of lament and longing
songs of suffering and sorrow
songs of remembrance and redemption
songs of deliverance and the coming day

…alas…memory is like a river terrible
that must be crossed.
The crossing…the crossing!tumblr_ni5q4aSy9j1tqunino1_500That’s the common factor present,
primary and consistent,
pervasive and persistent

and it moves,
from background
to foreground and
back again

while it waits its turn to step up and partake
of the Communion Feast, its Sacred Supper,
the Holy Sacrament of our Sojourning Hearts.tumblr_n085xbZFtY1swai75o1_1280I’m decided, I am settled.
I’m on the right side of pain!
I’ll not let anyone or anything keep me captive,
stranded on the wrong side of memory

and out of phase with time!
I intend to feel the pain of others,
bind their broken hearts,
be marked by suffering…
…no, wait:  be marked
with suffering by my Mama!

In this looming collision between
uncomfortable mystery and unyielding mercy
and that suffering, ahh…
I can neither sleep nor slumber
because She who inhabits Eternity
neither sleeps nor slumbers but Is
Awake with those who suffer
and There with those who faint, who fall
and falter in the crossing…

tumblr_nhtxuwxJiv1s3m0ero1_1280She is there (I’ll be there too)
in Her house held up by beams
from that battered rough-hewn Cross,
shining fair with great doors open
thrown wide open to receive
all Her suffering children broken
in the crossing…in the crossing
and Her invitation spoken

Come and rest here at Her table,
there’s a place for every person
in the ending of between
and arrival of the Present
Oh, the greatest Gift of all, the Present!
When the crossing’s done …

I neither sleep
nor slumber, waiting…
pregnant in this moment
and present in
the crossing.tumblr_n5bpl7KAie1rywysso1_500

My Mama, and Spiritual Awakening

Good Morning Constance!  🙂

Lately I have been waking and finding myself more rested…spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  There are a lot of ways that dysphoria burdened me…a lot of ways.  For years I didn’t know what dysphoria was and thus attributed so much of the trauma I lived as just being a function of being me.

It was the primary thing that drove me…straight past religion and into the arms of the God behind the curtain of religion that humans have erected.  If it were not for Them, Their love, acceptance, and encouragement, I would have long ago despaired and taken my own life.tumblr_nidtxe8jN01rpowflo1_1280

Then I began to face my gender issues, get educated on what they were (and weren’t), and the relationship between me and Them blossomed and flourished even more…depths and heights I had no idea of…and the sense of destiny and mission and purpose began to take shape and form!  No longer was I here merely to serve out a life sentence in the penitentiary of this flesh, just slogging thru until release.  No.  I had been formed and fashioned in just such a precise and intricate way so as to be in this place at this time to help set other captives free, to break down walls of oppression and to be part of that rolling river of justice, that mighty stream of righteousness to all peoples.{"key":"b1"}

So that was cool.

But these mornings…finding this new place of peace, liberty…I think it is a deeper connection to God that is derived from congruence and alignment of brain and body due to the HRT that I have been doing…there are fewer filters and a wider open field to run in.  And for the last few years, the Person of God I have been encountering most is the Blessed Holy Spirit, the One I affectionately call Mama.

*Oh, and to you, prisoner of patriarchy, who rebuked me for “feminizing God and reducing His Divinity”?  To you I say don’t go away mad, just go away…you who “masculinize God, and reduce Their Divinity”  The Bible teaches that God created man in Their Image, male and female, and it is very broad in how this is worded, indicating that not only are there some humans assigned to biologically female bodies, and some humans assigned to biologically male bodies, but also that each human being made is both male and female in their creation…because each one is in the Image of God.  This would by inference prove that God Themselves transcend gender, as the origin and agency of the creation of human beings!  So again…just go away.  I don’t receive your judgment and your fear.  Perhaps if you just stop, exhale yourself out of yourself so you are at last empty, you may find a humble path to repentance for doing the very things you judge me guilty of.  Then inhale the God…who made you…and me…and owns us both.*tumblr_nhp3bxAGEi1r3lb7ro1_1280

Mama…I have written poems about Her, and I urge you to search the blog for the word Mama, and check them out.  I rather like them.  Mama is so incredible and, well, I am not gonna try to describe Her.

The reason for this post is because a lot of you have been in contact with me and have indicated you would actually show interest in and desire to be in relationship with a God like Mama…but that She is different than the god they were taught of as children when they attended church.  That god they want nothing to do with!  And who could blame them?

Well, I want to invite you to try out something:  I would like to invite you to talk to Her.  She was telling me in my heart that She will talk to anyone who approaches Her with an open heart and humble spirit (that means a spirit that knows that it doesn’t know but would love to be taught).  And She said to suggest this to you:

If you would like to know Mama…then talk to Her and simply say “Mama, the One that Charissa talks about…I would like to start a dialogue with You.  I will show up everyday at the time and place that is established, and I will literally talk with You just as I would my bestie when we go out to coffee.”tumblr_nfengyAzCt1turrjgo1_500

If you do this…She will not disappoint, though She will indeed surprise and confound, often times will bring things to you that may make you uncomfortable or downright angry!  I know this for a fact from experience.  But hang in there, stay present, and above all, be honest.  If you get mad, tell Her.  Speak from your innermost core…hey, She is God and already knows what is there anyway, so you might as well.  I have said literally the worst things I have ever said to anyone to my Mama in those moments…but I didn’t stop there, for She talks back, yeah?  She will bring thoughts, new understandings, revelations…

…and awakenings.  Spiritual awakenings.tumblr_ni7qkuEWrm1trxee1o1_500

Spiritual awakenings are such a crucial component of being in this life, and they are common to nearly every religious experience and cultural expression.  They share a lot of common factors in spite of the various trails that people walk to arrive in them.  Here are some components of them:

☾Increased tendency to let things happen rather than making them happen
☾Feelings of being connected to others and nature
☾Overwhelming episodes of appreciation
☾A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than from fears of past experience
☾A loss of the ability to worry
☾A loss of interest in conflict
☾A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others
☾A loss of interest in judging others
☾A loss of interest in judging self
☾Gaining the ability to love without expecting anything in return
☾To be so strong that nothing disturbs your peace of mind.

I saw that list this morning, and I wanted to share it with you, but with the Charissa-twist that comes with my connection to Mama:

☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have an increased tendency to let things happen rather than making them happen. 
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have feelings of being connected to others and creation
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I experience overwhelming episodes of appreciation
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than from fears of past experience
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a loss of the ability to worry
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a loss of interest in conflict
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a loss of interest in judging others
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I have a loss of interest in judging self
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I am gaining the ability to love without expecting anything in return
☾When I am in relationship with Mama, I am so strong that nothing disturbs your peace of mind

(I was trying to make a rainbow, by the way lol!!)

My point is this:  Spiritual Awakening is not an experience…it is a state of being that can be entered into through relationship with a Person…through Mama.tumblr_nhx33h9nOw1r7w1nxo1_r1_1280

Oh no…you don’t have to enter into connection with Her…there are many beings out there to connect to and not all of them good…but I am in relationship with Her, and I can testify of Her goodness, Her faithfulness, Her steadfast unending love and acceptance, Her humor and fierce sense of Justice, Her unending Tender Mercies…

Mama.

I Love You, Mama
Your girl, Charissa Grace

tumblr_nemfwwinuF1qeku48o1_1280

This My Plaintive Plea

It falls, from Your clay-smeared hands.
Casual, elegant and of a piece, unassuming yet so present.
The door swings open and music
swirls out of the depths of symphonies
not yet written but already played.

Beauty tears at my heart, wanting to drink
its tax of tears and collect its
payment of my pounding pulse
and my nose red with glory
and unruly, running to beat the band.

Oh Mama, that delicate wonder
that traboccant thunder, clapping
for Your willowy way so lithe
and lean, spare but not stingy
and always sticky with goodness!

You make me ache so, inside!
How is it that You can tear me open
and I don’t even know, until I am
bleeding moonlight and bathing
in velvet night?

Alas, for my wounded heart!
Pincushion for Your Arrows of Light
so precise and knowing, and each one
tipped with Deep Desire
so strong, so sweet, so savory!

I wanna be like You when I grow up, Mama!
I wanna inhabit my self as You do Yours,
I wanna see around corners and behind curtains
without going there or raising them
and giving up the game!

Sink into my bones, infiltrate them!
Permeate me with You, every pore
a thirsty throat to drink You in and then
becoming places which pour You out
on thirsty ground and suffering hearts so poor.

Let me know Your rhythms,
Let me hear Your yearns!
Let me be disciplined, but unrestrained!
And above all, let me know Your heart
and this knowing shape my own forever.

Amen.

10887466_780806552013257_4974268631898305771_o

Pas De Deux

the kind of love
that breaks your heart
in a way that somehow
makes it feel more whole,

that’s my Mama,
loving, breaking,
healing, asking.
She is always longing

for what I value dearest
and wants to be gifted
with my heart throb center
and bloody core.

Because then no more shells
no more shields
no more protective masks
just gentle yields.tumblr_n5wgcaKPS21qfhbsvo1_1280

Can I give up the thing
I most want to hold onto?
Can I turn from these things
(house, clothes, ease)?

It’s not a bargain, really…
this heart She drives for!
From either of our points of view
it seems we each stand to…what?

Really, what?  Do we gain?
Do we lose? Or do we
dance here, and choose
one another forever?tumblr_n2u7y8wWui1qfndl6o1_500

And if I do…give
houseclothesease
(and everything else)
but hold myself still

what is that gift
but the gift of lies
and the withholding
of the only truth I am?

Yes, Mama, Yes
security, love, reputation
no…me…I give You me (again)
and all I am most fiercely

tumblr_ng0yowE8Mr1u4z0sto1_1280

 

 

Mama Comments on Charissa’s Comments on Leelah

Dear Constance…

Nights are not good.

Almost every night of my life since I was around 4 I wake up in the night, and I am petrified.  Skert stiff, and I mean that literally.  I don’t know why.  And inner voices that say horrible things that crush…flat, inflectionless, as if I am so worthless that those voices will not even waste their powers on one as meritless as I.  No need to tell you what they say.tumblr_ng9ytraHch1rznwtzo1_500

In 1966 I was exposed to a horror movie that really hooked into my dysphoria and an extremely traumatic event that had taken place a few months earlier, and since then, I have bad dreams, too.tumblr_lyzkcoRLuB1qc0cxpo1_500

That’s a lot of years.
That’s a lot of fears.
That’s a lot of tears.

As I grew, I discovered that talking with God helped…some.  And after I had grown some more, I learned to recognize Their voice back to me…each one distinct and each one full of Love.

Well, if you have been reading here lately you know that I have been in a rough patch.  A bit challenging in fact.  And those voices?  The ones that say crushing and horrible things?  They have utilized the raw materials in my life of trial, betrayal, abandonment, loss, and sorrow, and added that weight and depth and breadth to their curses…and I could not escape their toxin.  I had to just listen…and endure.tumblr_lzo2uhPk6v1r1kan8o1_1280

Until last night…after waking, freezing, cramping, clenching, crying…and ripping apart again…

I heard my Mama’s voice quiet and sure, certain underneath the Mordor doom-drums and orc snarls…and we talked.  A long time.

At the end, She exhorted me to write some of what She told me…here on Grace Notes…as a faith step and an exercise…an attempt to call myself into fullness and being, because I have languished for so many years encased in roles, expectations and binary bondages.  I have even torn myself in two in my desperate attempt to perform and thus be worthy of love and acceptance…and so all those voices whispering all those years are like a gravitational pull to be overcome.tumblr_nhh7fcE3RD1twprg3o1_400

So here is a bit of what Mama told me…translated from spirit/soul/heart talk to written words:

I am Charissa Grace, and I am not the person everyone thought me to be (including myself).  tumblr_nhf6qrQfda1rpe84qo1_1280

I am made sensitive and tender…so I feel the pains and sorrows and hurts and worries of everything and everyone around me…in the same way that a tuning fork hit with vibrations will itself vibrate in frequency, or a crystal goblet will sound when it is circled with a finger.

It is not a function of something wrong in me when I feel all of that…it is a function of how my Mama created me, and so I am to stop calling myself names and blaming myself for things that are not my fault…they are simply the things that I feel because of how I am made by Her.

I am made to drink cups and drain dregs…many of them bitter and some sweet.

I am made to transform things…to catalyze their becoming into who and what they are destined to be, but I myself am not made a part of that…rather I remain apart…alone, and in my Mama’s Hands.mamas hands

I am precious to Her, and She watches over me in such Joyous Jealousy, having purposed to allow me to experience pain in order for Her good riches to be birthed into this world.

I am Mama’s womb of Life…having no womb of my own and born so barren and lonely.  She intentionally formed me intricate, delicate and robust, so easily woken but desperately determined to hang on…hang on…hang on.

I am Her Instrument and She delights in my unique and utterly singular voice, and so She tunes me…constantly…to be sure I am in tune to Her song, Her heart…She tightens me, She loosens me.tumblr_nh5lyiVPc31qgk7mfo1_500

Above all…I am not evil.  I am not “wrong” or “null” or “nothing” or a “monster” or a “freak”.  What I endure is a function of Her goodness and intention and not a function of my flawed-ness and failures, and there are many of those by the way…flaws and failures.  But to Her they are akin to the chiseled away wood or stone…they are like the clay She pushes away as She makes me into Her Own.tumblr_mg1b54JLRN1qbwkv3o1_500

I am the daughter of Holy Spirit, Great Lady Grace…my Big Mama…and I am good.  She has said it and my Precious Merciful Jesus has made it true in His own Love dripped completely over me and washing totally thru me cleansing me and making me Their Righteousness.

I will live, and still pine and long…grieve and mourn…but I will also see the Dawn morning by morning and I will keen under Her loving caresses to my hair and cheeks as She wipes away travail and gives…

…gives me Beauty for ashes…and the Oil of Joy for mourning…and She clothes me in Songs of Praise glorious and radiant and She disappears the spirits of heaviness…as She plants me in Her Own Orchards of Righteousness and calls me Her Very Own…and I will indeed day by day glorify Her Name and call Her good and only good as She brings me to the Father of Lights from Whom every good and perfect gift comes.day_50_by_secrets_of_the_pen-d4qb4z8

I am a prophetic declaration to a world that is spiritually cross-borned, just as I am physically thus.  Yes, each and everyone of us is “transgender”…walking around with this knowing inside us that we were not destined for death and dissolution and destruction, knowing that we are victims of time, knowing that who we are in our hearts is somehow choked down and held down and thrown down by something that ought not be…

…and so as I live and love, as I trust and talk, as I weep and write, I am becoming a living word of love to whoever will listen, and let their own hearts awaken the dawn.Image 001

These things I say in faith…believe me, they are not said in boast, or even really anything that I think about myself.  But I do know that I have heard from my Mama…and these sorts of things, the things I have written here?  They aren’t even remotely like anything the voices have ever cursed at me, and like nothing I tell myself…wait, correction:  told myself…so I know that they must be Her.

Mama said She was so thrilled when I picked out the name double-grace…She promises She will make good on it.

I am Charissa Grace, and I am in my Mama’s Hands.  May my song ever be sweet and my tune ever triumphal, even in tears.tumblr_mv2tt5HQEw1rybem6o1_400

 

I Sail In a Boat Big Enough

Remember “Jaws?”  The movie? And that moment
when Richard Dreyfuss shouts in shocked alarm:
“We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” The sound,
his voice, the realization he was up
against something more brutal, more unknown
than they had realized…had dark suspected…
Well, I was thinking today about boats
about Mama’s Boat, Her Clipper Ship Sailing…
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and She’s not limited to oceans only…
She can sail up rivers, onto trails,
trod by shaggy elk and ancient Indians…
Her Masts are tall, majestic, She sails over
Groves and Glens, She sails over vistas foul
and fair, views of beacons, of hills and lanterns
red with hateful thoughts the redder still
beneath the clingy ivy choking love.

But if She sails on stormy weather inland
from seas Pacific o’er mountains to the deserts,
or She sails in from long Atlantic shores
across those Carolinas south and north,
so fair, so foul, riddled with love and hate
like starlight thru bullet holes…glowing bright 
lovers of kindness constant in that night…
Mama knows, She knows!  Her boat is big enough!

Her Boat transcends the sharks of sea and land
Her nets are tensiled taut titanium
I’m safe on Her Ship “Big Billy Goat Gruff”
and trolls that lurk like land-sharks there beneath
henley flannel bridges near the mills
the waterwheels revolving in the waters
called clearwater but in fact so stagnant
infected with mosquitos like the plaguetumblr_lfr3wa3xsf1qcjp3go1_1280

the trolls will jump and thrust, strain viciously
and find their revelation in such smallness,
their petty crooked goblin-cruel teeth,
their flat black piggy eyes that never blink,
their taste for tender flesh, for stumbled children
tripped on blocks becoming dread millstones,
they jump, show off their sleek and ugly snouts
that bristle row on row with rancid knives…

they shall find that shackles slickly slipped
over their necks and chains meant for the others
have doubled back and clicked closed there for good,
and those land-sharks, those south of Charlotte trolls
at last are cast into the slate grey sea
awaiting eager, quick to swallow up
and ne’er a trace seen e’er again of them
and thus the children run to Them so free.

I sail in a boat big enough, I sail
in Mama’s Good Ship Big Goat Gruff and Glory
and ever I will sing Her Mercy Story.

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Mama’s leaf for ddh

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after your dead leaves magnetic and alchemal
drew from you those vapours and fumes
our Mama gathered each bitter sprout one and all
burned them in fiery plumes

i cried for you, with you, sharing your sorrow
and burden inside of my heart
and then found a leaf from the tree of tomorrow
and wrote there with tears a fresh start

i give it to you, now, here, wet and made clean
and waiting the touch of your pen
that will write of promises aquamarine
Made by Mama, kissed with Her Amen.

and worry not that your inkwell might run dry
for I will my tears shed for thee
and there you may dip your quill, write, and then fly
to your Mama-promised destiny

and i?   i will walk in the forests and trees
in fall, i’ll catch every fallen leaf
and i’ll gather them precious, add my tears as keys
and i’ll Sister-stand there, stark relief

so write on these leaves with your heart and your soul
and when they are filled up, write some more
and our Mama will faithfully there make you whole
from your leaves to your pen to your core.

i love you, dear sister and friend,
me, your ever faithful bringer of tear-washed leaves

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Mama’s Clothes

Mama’s clothes are alive, like meadows over dirt,
like dew over meadows, like sun kissing dew,
like sky holding sun, like night holding stars,
and then there She is, outside the inside and
with me too.

Mama’s clothes move, like wind thru the trees,
like waves on the sea, like swans in the air,
like fish thru the water, like boats on a voyage,
like banners in the wind, like mercy over sin,
like gratitude in me.

Mama’s clothes rustle, swirl, and make my way
to snuggle close, tussle that soft edge to my face,
curl, close and hear the breath She takes, the
breath She gives, the song She croons, as She
sings over me.

Mama’s clothes glow, like rainbows in sun,
like silver in the clouds, like diamonds in my eyes,
like peacocks in their glory, like a single color story,
Refracted in Her eyes and a living quick surprise
to delight me.

Mama’s clothes, my refuge in the storm,
my anchor to the norm, my banquet in the fear,
invitation to draw near, so I do, I snuggle closer,
inhale Her strength, Her Kindness, Her Grace that
pours over me.

Mama.  Strong…Soft…There, not “there”.
Deep, serene, intent, inquisitive, powerful
Grace Incarnate.  Wisdom manifested,
Means of Creation, Healer and Nurturer of
her daughter, me.

Mama.  Charissa Grace.
A match made in heaven, designed from
the beginning, a leap within her Heart to
spark in me and bloom, alive and growing free
my Mama and me.

Mama, can I wear your clothes?
I wanna be
just like you.melodie_du_soir__by_leona_snow-d6jo2d5

 

Like a Rose (Come Holy Ghost)…song for Mama from 1994

As you know if you read here regularly, I love to refer to the Holy Spirit as Mama…and back in the 1990s I started calling Her “Lady Grace”, based on the stories my baby was writing back then “Tales of the Blood King.”

I have always had a very deep interest in and affinity with Holy Spirit.  As a child, I used to be scared of our orchards, because I was certain that I heard a “ghost” calling me to come out in the orchard and meet her.  It frightened me because it was so unusual, not so much because I thought harm would come to me.  When I tried to talk to my parents about it, they just laughed at me, and marveled at “the imagination on that kid!”  Yeah, that sorta hurt…but why would they think or do otherwise?  It certainly is not “normal”!

In college, thanks to my beloved Dearest Darling, I met Holy Spirit very personally face to face (in my heart of course…the literal face to face is still to come!).  And since that time, She has been very present and with me…with the exception of last year in the autumn, when They strategically withdrew to break me out of dry dock, and launch me on a voyage.

This song was my attempt at conveying the beauty, the blessing, and the healing of Lady Grace’s presence.  Whenever I played it, the reaction was dramatic…some people were transported into a deeper realm of devotion and union with God…and other people literally at times tried to stop me from playing it, to the point of threatening to kick me out of church if I persisted.  I persisted…

Take a look for yourselves…and may you always find a door to open in your heart to Lady Grace, the most gentle and comforting and powerful of beings!!

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Like A Rose (Come Holy Ghost)

The fragrance of Your Presence here is all I need.
You fall on me like dew on thirsty ground.
You pour out golden oil on my hungry heart,
I will drink of heaven’s love come down.

Chorus #1:

Holy Spirit come (echo).  Holy Spirit come (echo)
Come and pour the Wine of Father’s love.
Holy Spirit come (echo).  Holy Spirit come (echo),
Come and fill our hearts with Love again.

The fire of Your Presence here is like a Rose,
You blossom in the dark night of my soul.
Your steadfast love surrounds me and You melt the snows,
And I am set aflame by First Love’s coal.

Chorus #2:

Holy Spirit Fall! (echo)  Holy Spirit Fall! (echo)
Fall like Holy Fire from Father’s Throne.
Holy Spirit Fall! (echo)  Holy Spirit Fall! (echo)
Come and set our hearts on fire again.