find me

something about cool crisp mornings

awakened sun, owning the sky

something about the dawn's newness

stimulates fingertip's imagination, senses

half sleep, half wake

something about cool crisp mornings

dancing, swirling

air, breathe

something about freshness comes to mind

something about you

peace

(Copyright 2009: Regina Y. Evans)

Rose

joyously

grow, plant,

with zeal

fertilize, water

recognize

your flowers

acknowledge

your fruit

claim

your destined garden

its your time

flourish

lovehopepeace

(Amos 9:13 "The days are coming," declares the LORD, "when the reaper will be overtaken by the plowman and the planter by the one treading grapes. New wine will drip from the mountains and flow from all the hills.)

Copyright 2009: Regina Y. Evans

THE GRACE OF FALL

I was just pondering the beautiful process of Fall. A single tree. I often marvel at how its leaves float in the air and down upon the ground....leaving shorn branches. "Barren". Sometimes to the eyes of our heart the tree looks gangly and awkward. Our beings latch onto the distress of fear which we believe we see in the tree's lack of leafy protection. In fact, in this state, it is at its most beautiful. It has the capacity to stand. Naked in its bareness. Transparently revealed in its audacious baldness. Bold.
The tree seems to cry out "Here I am. Here I am. I am solidly planted against outside hostile forces. Unbowed by the pinching breeze of negative winds of change. And yet. It is my pleasure to accept the positivity of a new flow. Because I KNOW ME. My tangled roots. They are divinely anchored in joy. I relish. I dance. My sap. Sweet. HERE I AM."
And then. And then. Somewhere between the seasons of Fall and the beginning of Spring a process occurs which prepares the tree for a newness of life. A smile encased within the call of love. A sigh. A flutter. Longing. Rebirth. Our eyes are then mercifully permitted to gingerly drink in the glory of the blossoming. Our spirits are enthralled by the rapture and journey of life's character. GRACE.
Yes, there is a unique strength in Fall which unfailingly rivals the breath of Spring.
Fantastic.
Peace

Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans

BROKEN CISTERNS

"You budda", she spoke.
I looked up to see a girl tryin' ta act like what she thought a woman of today should be actin' like. Tough, armour on. The words street cred come to mind.
"I beg your pardon?" I stammered out.
"I said, you budda." she said a bit louder. As if the elevation of sound would trigger the knowing.
I stared at her blankly, searchingly.
She then cranked out a larger than life laugh and said, "I like what you wearin'. Budda. You budda." She shrugged.
"Oh. Umm, thanks. Budda. Yes." I gulped.
Conversation sprung forth cus of "budda". Right there. In a Harlem grocery store.
She seemed a bit young to be out in the middle of the day. So, my mouth said what my mind thought.
"Why aren't you in school? Don't you go to school? Its 1 o'clock."
"Did I just say that?" my brain mused.
Well, it was too late to back it right up. I stood my ground. I stared intently. Right into the swimming pools of living waters that she knew only as her eyes.
In query's moment I was sure that I heard a crack.
"Was that her heart?" I wondered.
Shift. Answered. Yes, it was.
Soft terseness spilled from her face.
She spoke, "Well, I, well, my Momma don't worry about it so I don't neither. Why you care anyway? What's it to you?"
I paused a moment. Wondering "Truth. What was it to me?"
Don't blink.
"I care because I care about young beautiful girls who should be taking advantage of ALL their opportunities in life. How else do you plan to rule the world? You can't do it on fumes! You need to go to school!"
More softness of face.
Side stepped. She imagined.
"You live around here?" Her.
"Yes, when I am in the country." Me.
"When you in the country?" Her, again.
"Yes, when I'm in the country. I spend most of the year in Australia. Ever been there?" Me, last shot.
Bingo.
Seed planted.
And with that the newness of a relationship was birthed. Whenever I stepped to the Black Mecca called Harlem, Budda (me) and Budda's friend (her) would spend many evenings sittin' on my Brownstone stoop. Engaged in life. Relationship.
She brought her friends. I brought the chips and red soda. Laughter, questions, stories, passions, dreams. Revealed. Healed. Our individual broken cisterns mended a bit more by the touch of hands. Fingerprints of life. Required.
Be budda.
peace
Note: Sometimes in life, in a split second, we have the opportunity to dive head first into the heart of the matter. Love. May you run like you have never run before and chase like you have never chased before. Discover her. Discover you.

Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans

SHE REALIZED

Today She Realized

that she can brush her fingers across the sky,

wrap herself in a cloud of splendour,

sit upon a sunstar named strength,

and hold its rays of joy in the palm of her hand

yes, today, she realized

that she can dance across the top of a hurricane,

never bowing down to its twisty gusto,

in fact, she can reach into its eye,

yank out peace,

grasp calmness,

capture serenity

my, my, my, today, she realized

that she can walk,

deliberately, gracefully, elegantly,

royalty lives in her steps,

faith tickle her toes,

patience caresses her ankles,

and delight entices the soles of her feet,

oooooo weeee, today, she realized

that she is a pearl of great price,

and it is The Father's great pleasure to

pour out the vaults of grace over her being,

she is a Rose of Sharon,

a Lily of the Valley,

the eyes which overwhelm,

praise God, because today, this day, she realized

to Him she is perfection

to Him she is glorious

to Him she is

F.L.A.W.L.E.S.S.

FLAWLESS

today, realized

so, in the morning when you

wake and The Almighty says,

"My darling, you have stolen my heart,

my sista, my bride, you have stolen

my heart."

simply smile and say, "Thank you Father,

and yes, I know because

here, now, today

I REALIZE

peace

Copyright2008:Regina Y. Evans