Tag Archives: faith

When Love Spirals…

When love spirals, a feeling of being slighted kicks in and resentment follows. That used to be the flow of things, but something about that doesn’t feel quite right anymore. Feeling hurt, feeling slighted somehow doesn’t compliment the spiritually evolving consciousness. For however much we want to just withdraw and forget about the whole relationship, or the beginning of one, there lies that bit of conscience, that intuition whispering it’s not the answer, this is not the end. That despite the hurt or the slight we feel, perhaps it is best to stand aside and let love run its course. Because love is understanding; it is equipped with self-healing properties that, if we trust enough, will mend what is pierced, what is broken. Perhaps, it will heal the person whose pain trickles over to us. If we don’t give in and simply allow love in, maybe there’s a chance for survival… to soar instead of spiraling down.

your love
i’ve searched
beneath the murky
waters where i once
found gold. a nugget,
like early settlers
whose trace of
opportunity lies
in a motherlode.
cake, not. but gold.
necklace, gold. watch.
solid gold time never
runs out, never
depletes, how infinite
energy sometimes when
there is enough light
reserved in one
vessel, a light bulb,
you on a lamp i want
to turn on if you’ll
only let me twist
the switch

mrg©poem 3/27/17

In The Plan, We Trust

Why is there this eagerness to get ahead of God’s plans? The need for us to take control and take over… well, it’s not His style. It was never His style and yet we try to bypass the rules and rush it anyway. It makes me laugh recalling all the times I tried to do this because the follow through and all the things that went wrong with it only returns me to square one where I needed to be in the first place. The world will unfold and everything will happen in accord to His plan, and all He asks is that we adhere to faith and trust that He has a better, well- written story for us to walk on. Despite all the challenges and struggles, the path shall mold us into the better hero or heroine. He usually does have the better story, except we’re always trying to interfere every time we get antsy and impatient.

let me be stricken
down to humble if ever
i try to pass the finish
line before my time.
unfold me away from
all the senseless
rigmarole, the long-
winded and complicated
talk which borders
rumors, fiction based
on cancerous tumors; how
fantastically i become
hideous and tedious
in my expectations
that i rush to end you
even before i can begin…
(i beg)
strike me down to humble.
strip me my pride.
flay me my ego.

poem©mrg 3/13/17

When Someone Leaves…

The details of our lives need observation. These are the sentences, after all, which can rightfully say what’s going on in our lives. To hope is one thing, but to hope when we see the rightful answers before us is another thing. And the answer probably lies in acceptance of a situation, why certain people are uprooted from our lives and why others stay. It’s a gift either way. The idea that someone stayed means that there are lessons still to impart while someone leaving may mean that they have done exactly what it is they are meant to do in our lives. The latter is bittersweet, but the more I agonize over the why, the more I’m left to flounder in the neutrality of the non-answer. It is what it is. They left, uprooted. They are not meant to stay. And if this is God’s answer, then I’ve stubbornly questioned it to its demise. The silence is humbling, He is patient with me. And if I am to respond to this silence that slightly stings when I wonder about that person, I must respond with compassion. Extend the greatest patience upon myself… do not recoil, do not withdraw from the world. Simply accept the currents and motions of the rivers and follow it. There’s no use going against it.

the torment you leave
behind rattles my skin.
nervousness, anxiety
creeps into every crevice
denying me tranquility
which i have sought long
before you arrived and
monopolized my mind;
but you leave me without
trace to find even the
subtlest sound your voice
have teased me out away
from my hiding. and now
that i have shown my face,
revealed all my cards…
you throw down so easily
as though i’m a bet
not worth gambling for

poem©mrg 2/20.17

so few have these stolen nights

so few have these stolen nights
returned, the ecstasy and the
worried blasphemy streams in
as guilt filters through; i feel
as a child once again without
my prayers. the religion i sought
banished me day by day as my faith
unraveled like suman in my hands,
no sugar— only sticky rice held
me together. heavy chains held me
down and bound me to their mediocre
spells and sorcery, neither of
which brought me closer to you.
i was long enraged in the silences,
a million anvils pressed against me,
but i didn’t say a word, i didn’t
complain— my suffering will summon
me to your pain. and here i am
disguised in the altitude, hoping
to bring you that much more rain.

poem©mrg 2/15/17

There Is Faith In Rain

With all the rain that’s coming our way, I’ve to say, I can’t complain. We are no longer in a state of drought, but a cleansing. I told a friend earlier how I rejoice in being alive because I survived driving through the rain yesterday. The rain poured as I’ve never seen it poured before and, though I’ve lived through a typhoon, when I visited my grandmother some years back in the Philippines, witnessing the rain and hearing all the sudden flash flood warnings from everyone’s cell phone (but mine), for a second, bestowed upon me a faithless jolt. A fear seized me and, suddenly, I wanted to hang back and wait out the rain. Three freeways I would wade through swarming with drivers who neither have the patience for rain nor the tolerance for its slippery conditions. And when I saw the rain fall harder outside, the more furious my concerns charged at me. It all could have unfolded badly until a moment convinced me my journey home would be fine.  So long as I had faith, everything will be alright.

So instead of worry, I gathered all the statements that restored my courage. I had God sit on the passenger side next to me while I repeated to myself, “God is with me.” And as the storm raged before me, whether in drops or in flood formation, what is true and what I kept reminding myself is that the flood I will experience here in the States will never ever compare to the flood I’ve encountered in the Philippines where thousands of people, cars and houses are submerged in water for weeks before it finally subsides. The idea of wading through water with crocodiles and snakes (because the flood somehow displaced them from their underground cages and their natural habitat)… well that would only happen in the Philippines, not California.

So I got in my car, drove and forged on as any California driver would in the rain. I tuned in to the Amy Winehouse station on Pandora and let my Honda Fit do all the work. The rain persisted, the winds danced before me and pockets of water rose and splashed where they could on my side windows and upon my windshield. It was much like entering into the unknown, walking into the wilderness filled with beasts and God-knows-what to try and torment me at every turn. And the rain had never made me feel so helpless as when I was under it. I was at its mercy, each day, having witnessed at least one vehicle hydroplaned, turned on its side or on its back. The endless traffic it boxed me in… I already anticipated I would be trapped somewhere for hours. The fact that there were so many ambulances and patrol cars out there felt more ominous than it was safe. It wasn’t Armageddon, but the condition of the freeways more or less reflected it when it freaking rains! All the cars pulled to the side of the road… I just really want to get home and see the likes of my driveway.

I didn’t know what it all meant, but I knew yesterday’s rain was a gift. Plants were watered, cars were washed and, in some places, water supplies were replenished. I was grateful for shelter, the roof over my head, the warmth of my bed, the poem in my head… blessings given me this morning. Another day to live, another day to move on forward and carry out the tasks which will further my life’s mission. To write about love… I lived another day to write and spread love.

“yours is a voice whose
song incites me into
unimaginable words—
permit me to revere,
never silence you”

Note: A most worthy smile inspired this poem this morning. Grateful for it. Entered it on a challenge via Instagram. Key word being Silence. I admit… I’m a day behind. Oh well… still a good poem, I think!

poem©mrg 1/23/17