if you are building your life, ministry, organization, country, family, etc without a great and deep abiding love for those actually in your sphere...what, in fact, have you gained? anything at all? something of truth? think. think. can you reach for love and, at the same time, erase another's heart? there was once a song. some hated it. some thought of it "Wow!" i remember it well. went something like this : "ice ice baby, too cold, too cold." Brrrrrrrr.
Pride. it is a dream stealer. and if you are ever faced with it head on? keep walking in love, stay humble (though it may hurt), hold fast to your dreams, do what cha gotta do. Basically this: LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH.
Smile. Don't forget to smile.
peace
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
"The Man In The Arena" by Teddy Roosevelt (Quote)
Note: It is so easy to look at someone on their path and throw the darts of criticism at their head, back, sides, etc. But what I admire is someone who "gets in the game". "Win" or "Lose". Because either way? Wisdom has whispered in that person's ear.
Have a read of the quote below. It so spoke to my heart. And a hearty "Here! Here!" to all the folks out there who dare to STEP. -peace
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." Teddy Roosevelt, "The Man in the Arena"
Friday, November 12, 2010
a writing
There has been so much death to my life. Too much to comprehend. Loss knocks around within the walls of my heart leaving a searing emptiness to My Me. Shaken to my core by posers who mockingly toss the word "friend" upon my face. My pain grimaces as it slips, slides and tumbles down the terrain of my being. Leaving scars and slices of intimidation. The end of its journey sees it languishing upon the earth. Forming a laughing pattern of betrayal. Pilfering my everything into a state of insecurity and barrenness.
Indeed I had arrived at Ms. Ithaka and found her poor. But Cavafy* was correct. She had no intention of fooling my soul. You see, Wisdom is Ms. Ithaka's rightful name, and she remains my greatest teacher.
She blew pearls into my eyes until I acknowledged the scintillating shadow cast by my lack. I watched its dark glimmer dance beautifully in delightful irony. Holding court with previously buried secrets now twirling in the balm of restoration. I squinted closely, beholding the beginning outline of a smile. Here, I paused for thought. I watched as the sky travailed out a beam called perception. The veil ripped gently downside the middle revealing the precipice of a simple truth: I wildly exist. And powerfully so.
Indeed I had arrived at Ms. Ithaka and found her poor. But Cavafy* was correct. She had no intention of fooling my soul. You see, Wisdom is Ms. Ithaka's rightful name, and she remains my greatest teacher.
She blew pearls into my eyes until I acknowledged the scintillating shadow cast by my lack. I watched its dark glimmer dance beautifully in delightful irony. Holding court with previously buried secrets now twirling in the balm of restoration. I squinted closely, beholding the beginning outline of a smile. Here, I paused for thought. I watched as the sky travailed out a beam called perception. The veil ripped gently downside the middle revealing the precipice of a simple truth: I wildly exist. And powerfully so.
See my poetic:
she cannot forget
her beautifully rich nature, placed in her
by the divine kiss of love
painting her ethos and culture
upon the traverse of the world's
open field. her true destiny
all notions of freedom
emblazoned and ingrained
upon her hands.
the blood of her heart
writing out its roadmap
of breaking forth for
the generations yet to come
yes, she remembers
she will always remember
and every mountain will be leveled
for she, the weary
and the rugged places made plain
for her, the weak
the recompense of justice
Copyright 2010 All Rights reserved. From the published book: "Nothing Cool About Ten" by Regina Y. Evans
*For reference to the poem Ithaka, by Cavafy go to this link to read it in its entirety: http://homepage.newschool.edu/~wrightd/cavafy-ithaka.html
*For reference to the poem Ithaka, by Cavafy go to this link to read it in its entirety: http://homepage.newschool.edu/~wrightd/cavafy-ithaka.html
Thursday, November 11, 2010
shush child
leaning into quiet
the necessary spot of create
space to be for a chime
intergrity of spirit
finds its cool
in just being
without a shout
peace
Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the Poetry Book: Nothing Cool About Ten)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
clawin'
yesterday i was watchin
some what looked like crabs
seemed like they was dancing
but i saw steam float
and decided against that notion
they was sure nuff angry
bout something
dont even think they knew
stepping on the tother's ones back
tryin ta jump up
a half inch at a tock
and down again
seemed so strange
i didnt understand
dont think i ever will
dont want to
i rather be looking
at da sun
peace
Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the poetry book "Nothing Cool About Ten")
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Re-Lyt
He ribboned
the hues of His heart
into the hope of your promise
blew into your fingers
the techniques of compassion
covering your very being
with the strength to stand
and then one day
He determined, called
you to traverse upon the
ladder placed upon the earth's
vertical wall
your toes responded
the waters drew back
drying their tears
as you tipped into
their rocky river bed of
dangerous faith
your each step reverberating out
the cries of perserverance
dotting the blazing horizon
with the covenant of life
the open seal of the graceful
blue above sponging your crown
the fascination of rebirth
the strength to walk long
the journey of a precipice
birthed during the climb
create
Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans, All Rights Reserved, from the published book "Nothing Cool About Ten" by Regina Y. Evans
Monday, November 1, 2010
listen
of existence
stands under an open door
she raises her face to receive the
reign of kisses that birth
an utterly new day
focus, tossed up
left behind, tossed out
necessary gaze
____________________
Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans
All Rights Reserved
(From the poetry book: "Nothing Cool About Ten")
____________________
Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans
All Rights Reserved
(From the poetry book: "Nothing Cool About Ten")
pouring your own cuppa tea
i have decided that one of my pet peeve's is someone who is too afraid to get out there, tell their own story, create with the giftings that has been given to them. instead they latch onto "other than" them/their. they begin to co-opt the "other than" so much so that they begin to see it as one. all the while passing up the beauty that remains in them/he/she. it sleeps. dormant. with a thick coat of dust. waiting to see the warmth and light of day. there is no power or courage in that. pour your own cup of tea. the change for many rest within that realm.
life offers many mountains to climb. and many of those peaks rests within the beauty of the stories visited by the individual self.
ya feel me?
own your own.
do and be YOU.
one thumbprint. one sound. joins into the heart of many.
well, that is my rant for the day. DO YOU. because there is beauty there. always
peace
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Thank you for supporting Echo: A Poetic Journey into Justice
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I just wanted to take the time to thank the many individuals and organizations who came out to support the Berkeley, Ca and San Francisco, Ca showings of Echo: A Poetic Journey into Justice. Our hope with the production was to bring awareness to how our youth in this country are brutalized by sex trafficking/slavery. We are grateful for the many people who came out to network, learn about the issue, and join in the fight.
My utmost gratitude to my friends at Central Works Theater, Berkeley Ca and the members of City of Refuge United Church of Christ, San Francisco, Ca for donating their space for the performances. Amazing!
I am also thankful and grateful to the many organizations who came out to support this project: Not For Sale Campaign, MISSSEY, DreamCatchers Homeless and Runaway Youth Services, The Renew Project, Epic Bloom, Freedom House, Because Justice Matters, Chab Dai, CA Against Slavery, Project Exodus, and Out of Egypt.
Please look for us next year for our 2011 performances. In the meantime I will be working on some new poetry...amd maybe a play or two!
God bless.
Peace
Regina
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
SF Showings! Echo: A Poetic Journey into Justice (Save These Dates!)
Don't forget to save these dates: October 9th and October 16th. Echo: A Poetic Journey into Justice (a Stage Play to bring awareness to the issues of sex trafficking) will show at the City of Refuge, United Church of Christ, 1025 Howard St, San Francisco, Ca. Show times are 7pm. In advance tickets are 10 dollars, at the door 15 dollars. In advanced tickets are available here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/125312
(please read below for more detailed information about the play..including our Berkeley premiere, who we support financially, etc)
**Echo: A Poetic Journey into Justice is a Progeny Theater Project Production**
peace
Monday, August 23, 2010
Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice (October Shows!)
Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice will be returning to the stage October 9th and 16th, 7pm at City of Refuge United Church of Christ, San Francisco, 1025 Howard St (between 6th and 7th Avenues). Tickets are 15 dollars in advanced or at the door (if you cannot pay, you will not be turned away). Tickets will go on sale at www.brownpapertickets.com on Sept 1. We hope to see you at one of the shows. Lastly, please come with your questions as there will be a question and answer time after the performance. Thank you and see you at the show! -peace
Saturday, July 3, 2010
free indeed
she cannot forget
her beautifully rich nature, placed in her
by the divine kiss of love
painting her ethos and culture
upon the traverse of the world's
open field.
the place of her true destiny.
the place of her true destiny.
all notions of freedom
emblazoned and ingrained
upon her hands.
the blood of her heart
writing out its roadmap
of breaking forth for
the generations yet to come
yes, she remembers
she will always remember
and every mountain will be leveled
for she, the weary
and the rugged places made plain
for her, the weak
and the recompense of justice and mercy
and the recompense of justice and mercy
now begins to reign
free. ly.
rainrainrainrainrainrainrain
free. ly.
rainrainrainrainrainrainrain
(from the poetry book 10-ish by Regina Evans)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice (Information)
Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice is a theater performance designed to bring awareness to the horrific circumstances surrounding sex slavery/trafficking. The performance braids together the fabric of poetry, Negro Spirituals and movement in an effort to shine a light upon the extraordinarily similar threads that run between present day human sex trafficking and past day African-American slavery. The crisis of sex trafficking/slavery is widespread and affects youth of all races, cultures, and socio-economic levels. Echo seeks to search out the lessons of the past, bring the lessons into the future, speak to the need of restoration, and tweak hearts into action.
Echo premiered April 2010 at the venue location of Central Works Theater (located in the Berkeley City Club, Berkeley, Ca) and played to sold out performances during the entire run. Echo is written and directed by Poet and Oakland, Ca native Regina Y. Evans. The staging of Echo is a collaborative effort birthed out of the hearts of many compassionate and talented individuals.
The premiere of Echo was co sponsored by: M.I.S.S.S.E.Y., Not For Sale Campaign, Chab Dai, Project Exodus, The Renew Project, The Underground Youth Movement (Sequoyah Community Church), Nia Kotobalavu (Epic Bloom), and Sarai Theolinda Smith (Dreamcatchers Runaway and Homeless Youth Services, Youth Director and M.I.S.S.S.E.Y., Co Founder).
50 percent of all proceeds were donated to M.I.S.S.S.E.Y andDreamCatchers Runaway and Homeless Youth Services.
My heartfelt thanks to the co sponsors (please see the end of this blog entry for co sponsor websites), actors, production crew, and everyone who came out to support the premiere of Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice. A massive thank you to Central Works Theater (http://www.centralworks.org) for donating their beautiful theater space. We were blessed enough to have overflowing audiences every night. And more importantly, those overflowing audiences asked questions after the performances! Questions on how to be involved in the fight against sex trafficking/slavery. The point of it all. Sex trafficking/slavery is a national and international crisis. The following quote from M.I.S.S.S.E.Y. Co Founder Nola Brantley is quite telling:
"Some of the children that our team encountered had been forced into prostitution by brutal pimps. Yet others were homeless children coerced into exchanging sexual favors for a bed and a warm plate of food. It is not unusual to see children as young as nine being approached by depraved johns. These are young human beings who need our attention, love and support. We know that through raising the awareness of all people to confront the needs of our most vulnerable children, we can create change in our communities and for our children. Some call the exploitation of young children for sexual purposes, the crisis of our ...time. Don't let the crisis happen in front of your eyes, get involved and change lives!"
The Echo team is currently in the process of setting up additional viewings of Echo. My greatest wish is that Echo be used as an awareness raising tool. Sex trafficking is such a huge problem and many people are not aware of how to engage this beast. In light of this, after each showing skilled individuals who work within the Anti Sex Trafficking Movement are provided with an opportunity to address the audience during a panel discussion/Q&A.
I look forward to seeing you at a future show!
Peace
***********
Echo: A Poetic Journey Into Justice Premiere/Co Sponsor Websites:
Not For Sale Campaign http://www.notforsalecampaign.org
Chab Dai www.chabdai.org
M.I.S.S.S.E.Y http://www.misssey.org/index.html
Project Exodus http://www.project-exodus.org
DreamCatchers Runaway and Homeless Youth Services http://www.alamedafs.org
Epic Bloom www.epicbloom.blogspot.com
The Renew Project http://www.therenewproject.org
The Underground Youth Movement http://www.sequoyahcommunitychurch.org
peace
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
HOME, Book Excerpt
Once upon a beautifully clear and sunny day I had a dream. You know the kind. When you wake and you can't distinguish as to whether what transpired actually occurred in real time or in dream time. As I remember it, there was nothing particulary extra special about that afternoon. I was living out and relishing in the feel of being enveloped within the core of my passion. Destiny's feet had lead me to The Land Down Under where she planted me in a gem of a city called Sydney. A bedazzling place which is well noted for its beautiful beaches, white silky sands and gloriously blue skies. There I had founded and operated my own little slice of heaven. A vintage clothing boutique. The Diva's Closet. It was a magnificent treasure. I reckoned that it was a beautiful gift from The Almighty. I had always felt the name to be appropriate when referring to women. Diva. All women were Divas, I reasoned. Created to be admired for their strength of character, loved for the faith which roamed within their beings, and revered for their innate beauty. A world without Divas would be a dreary place indeed. In fact, humanity could not exist without a multitude of Divas dancing upon Planet Earth. Afterall, women are the bearers of Life. Even Jesus Christ, the Ultimate Saviour, had been incubated inside of the womb of the heroic Diva named Mary.Truth.
The boutique was a space where the world's most fabulous Divas called Any Woman could leave their cares behind, sit back, and natter on excitedly about their day. And all the while, enjoy the simplicity of a cup of tea and a sumptuous piece of cake. To top it all off? They could float out the door upon a cloud with the most divine vintage frock that any one person ever did see. Let me tell you, there was nothing ordinary about these dresses. They were, like the women who enjoyed their beauty, exceedingly extraordinary. There is a certain species of dress which instinctively inspires squeals and twirls of delight. I stocked them in my boutique in abundance. It was in these twirls that I began to realize the ultimate creativity of The Dream Maker. In my eyes, The Almighty was proving to be the most amazing designer ever known to womankind. He was adept at knowing how to dress the outer silhouette of a woman, and at the same time drape her spirit with a fitting garment of praise. No minor feat. I was happy to be His sidekick and, a bit bemused that He would allow me to come along for the ride. I learned to prance around inside of encouragement and inspiration as if they were a pair of gloriously made leather stilettos. Blessings spilled forth from my lips and into my customers in hopes of negating the curses that would have surely taken up residence in their souls throughout the week. My mission in life took on the art form of tying compassion around weary wrists. I sought to be a perfectionist at blending everlasting joy into battered hearts. I was living my dream. I was walking right in the middle of my God destiny. I just knew it to be true. Or so I thought.
(continued in next entry)
The boutique was a space where the world's most fabulous Divas called Any Woman could leave their cares behind, sit back, and natter on excitedly about their day. And all the while, enjoy the simplicity of a cup of tea and a sumptuous piece of cake. To top it all off? They could float out the door upon a cloud with the most divine vintage frock that any one person ever did see. Let me tell you, there was nothing ordinary about these dresses. They were, like the women who enjoyed their beauty, exceedingly extraordinary. There is a certain species of dress which instinctively inspires squeals and twirls of delight. I stocked them in my boutique in abundance. It was in these twirls that I began to realize the ultimate creativity of The Dream Maker. In my eyes, The Almighty was proving to be the most amazing designer ever known to womankind. He was adept at knowing how to dress the outer silhouette of a woman, and at the same time drape her spirit with a fitting garment of praise. No minor feat. I was happy to be His sidekick and, a bit bemused that He would allow me to come along for the ride. I learned to prance around inside of encouragement and inspiration as if they were a pair of gloriously made leather stilettos. Blessings spilled forth from my lips and into my customers in hopes of negating the curses that would have surely taken up residence in their souls throughout the week. My mission in life took on the art form of tying compassion around weary wrists. I sought to be a perfectionist at blending everlasting joy into battered hearts. I was living my dream. I was walking right in the middle of my God destiny. I just knew it to be true. Or so I thought.
(continued in next entry)
HOME, continued.... (Book Excerpt)
(continued....)
On The Day Of The Dream, as I now refer to it, my whole world would begin to crumble. I had just bid adieu to my midday client. As she left I could feel my eyes grasping onto the edge of drowsiness. My half way shut lids made the decision to take a quick cat nap. A mini Siesta as it was called in some parts of the world. I grabbed a 1920's beautifully embroidered piano shawl and tucked it around my body as I fell off of a cliff into a deep sleep. In the dream, I remember being in a state of panic. My heart was pounding and my brow sweating. A still wind seemed to pervade my being. As I peered into my dream I could hardly believe what my spirit was viewing. My whole precious business completely dissappeared. Right down a rabbit hole and into a ball of nothingness called confusion. A living nightmare. There where no beautiful twirly 1950's cocktail frocks, no frilly Victorian Jackets, and no cheeky 20's Flappers dresses. Beauty, as I knew it, had dissolved into thin air. Such a thing, even in a dream, is hard to fathom. In my humanness I reasoned that it could only be the workings of an evil twist of fate. Only darkness would allow for a funeral of one’s hopes, desires, and passions. Destiny had somehow walked out the door on me. And I didn't even get a chance to say: "So long to you Ms. Destiny. Maybe we will meet up again one day." No. She just decided that it was time for her to go, packed her bags without my knowing, and drifted out the back door. And to make matters worse? She didn't even leave a note behind to bid me farewell. She let me find out the hard way…in an empty dream.
The next reel of my dream had me running full throttle out the door and into the business next door. I began screaming: "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BUSINESS?" “I don't know," was my neighbor’s calm response. And with those words I began to wake. And at the same time I knew that something in me had died in that dream. It was a strange and unusual feeling. Being awakened to what now had passed away. Unbeknownst to me I was at the beginning stages of my learning how to stare straight into extreme surrender's eyes. It was the start of my spirit moving into a new house. And the shingle on my new home would read: Desperate Faith. Not long after The Day Of The Dream, I left the beautiful haven called Australia. I gave away and sold the majority of my belongings. I bid teary and heart wrenching goodbyes to my friends and to my world as I knew it. At the age of 45 years old I returned "home" with two half empty suitcases and precious few dollars. 68 to be precise. One never forgets such a paltry sum. What lay behind me was a country that I loved, friends that I adored, and a business which God had allowed my creative heart to enjoy. Mainly I felt as if I had left behind my destiny. My mission field for inspiration now lay in smouldering flames. It was a spectacular downfall.
For some time afterwards my beautiful world resembled an unshapen heap of puzzle pieces which lay upon a dark and unfamiliar landscape. It seemed as if each one of those pieces had the words "I DON'T KNOW" written upon them. My spirit refused to understand how God could have allowed me to build such a beautiful little hidden jewel of inspiration only to dismantle it in a blink of His eye. As I began to ponder the enormity of God and His unfathomable ways a glimmer of knowing began to dawn in me. Part of the answer was in the word "hidden". God had been incubating me with the purpose of teaching me about the wonders of His divine character. In doing so, He had been growing and strengthening my spirit for new mountains to conquer and new streams to rule. God, it seemed, had been meticulously preparing me to out run the wind. I had overgrown my precious space. It was just that simple. Now it was time for me to open the door, pull back the curtains, and bolt into the wide open space. You see, I was born to fly. Now I know that there are some who will smirk at what I am about to write but it truly comes from the depths of my spirit: I believe that I am a dancing yellow butterfly. I was borne to soar across the vivid blue skies of life. And a cocoon, even if it is decorated with the most gorgeous of frocks, is no place to remain if the tug of flight is pulling upon one's coattails. It was time for me to take my first fledgling flight. Well, at the very least it was time for me to line up on the runway and prepare for lift off.
****note: I am leaving this because I am feeling as if Christ is beckoning many to GO! So do. Just that. GO! No matter, in spite of. Go. A very short word. Two letters, in fact. ****
(Excerpt from the book Home, by Regina Evans, Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans)
On The Day Of The Dream, as I now refer to it, my whole world would begin to crumble. I had just bid adieu to my midday client. As she left I could feel my eyes grasping onto the edge of drowsiness. My half way shut lids made the decision to take a quick cat nap. A mini Siesta as it was called in some parts of the world. I grabbed a 1920's beautifully embroidered piano shawl and tucked it around my body as I fell off of a cliff into a deep sleep. In the dream, I remember being in a state of panic. My heart was pounding and my brow sweating. A still wind seemed to pervade my being. As I peered into my dream I could hardly believe what my spirit was viewing. My whole precious business completely dissappeared. Right down a rabbit hole and into a ball of nothingness called confusion. A living nightmare. There where no beautiful twirly 1950's cocktail frocks, no frilly Victorian Jackets, and no cheeky 20's Flappers dresses. Beauty, as I knew it, had dissolved into thin air. Such a thing, even in a dream, is hard to fathom. In my humanness I reasoned that it could only be the workings of an evil twist of fate. Only darkness would allow for a funeral of one’s hopes, desires, and passions. Destiny had somehow walked out the door on me. And I didn't even get a chance to say: "So long to you Ms. Destiny. Maybe we will meet up again one day." No. She just decided that it was time for her to go, packed her bags without my knowing, and drifted out the back door. And to make matters worse? She didn't even leave a note behind to bid me farewell. She let me find out the hard way…in an empty dream.
The next reel of my dream had me running full throttle out the door and into the business next door. I began screaming: "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BUSINESS?" “I don't know," was my neighbor’s calm response. And with those words I began to wake. And at the same time I knew that something in me had died in that dream. It was a strange and unusual feeling. Being awakened to what now had passed away. Unbeknownst to me I was at the beginning stages of my learning how to stare straight into extreme surrender's eyes. It was the start of my spirit moving into a new house. And the shingle on my new home would read: Desperate Faith. Not long after The Day Of The Dream, I left the beautiful haven called Australia. I gave away and sold the majority of my belongings. I bid teary and heart wrenching goodbyes to my friends and to my world as I knew it. At the age of 45 years old I returned "home" with two half empty suitcases and precious few dollars. 68 to be precise. One never forgets such a paltry sum. What lay behind me was a country that I loved, friends that I adored, and a business which God had allowed my creative heart to enjoy. Mainly I felt as if I had left behind my destiny. My mission field for inspiration now lay in smouldering flames. It was a spectacular downfall.
For some time afterwards my beautiful world resembled an unshapen heap of puzzle pieces which lay upon a dark and unfamiliar landscape. It seemed as if each one of those pieces had the words "I DON'T KNOW" written upon them. My spirit refused to understand how God could have allowed me to build such a beautiful little hidden jewel of inspiration only to dismantle it in a blink of His eye. As I began to ponder the enormity of God and His unfathomable ways a glimmer of knowing began to dawn in me. Part of the answer was in the word "hidden". God had been incubating me with the purpose of teaching me about the wonders of His divine character. In doing so, He had been growing and strengthening my spirit for new mountains to conquer and new streams to rule. God, it seemed, had been meticulously preparing me to out run the wind. I had overgrown my precious space. It was just that simple. Now it was time for me to open the door, pull back the curtains, and bolt into the wide open space. You see, I was born to fly. Now I know that there are some who will smirk at what I am about to write but it truly comes from the depths of my spirit: I believe that I am a dancing yellow butterfly. I was borne to soar across the vivid blue skies of life. And a cocoon, even if it is decorated with the most gorgeous of frocks, is no place to remain if the tug of flight is pulling upon one's coattails. It was time for me to take my first fledgling flight. Well, at the very least it was time for me to line up on the runway and prepare for lift off.
****note: I am leaving this because I am feeling as if Christ is beckoning many to GO! So do. Just that. GO! No matter, in spite of. Go. A very short word. Two letters, in fact. ****
(Excerpt from the book Home, by Regina Evans, Copyright 2008: Regina Y. Evans)
Friday, May 15, 2009
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)
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
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
Monday, May 11, 2009
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
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.
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
Saturday, May 9, 2009
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
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