God Poem... Free Verse

Free Verse

I lived my life in free verse...

As a small wild child, occupying the vastness beyond.

Beyond tight formalities of social and religious etiquettes and

protocols and manners galore

That wrap us up so tight in what is supposed to be “right.”

In later years I did succumb to these demented plays,

some of the time...

But I recovered and left others to their befuddled dismay.

While attending fifth grade and living briefly on a cattle ranch

in Montana with converted Aunt Deloris,

I was seen reading a book under the table about Greek mythology,

During Wednesday afternoon after school Sunday School.

I was supposed to be studying Catholic catechism...  

Not happening, not within the light of my precious prism.

The very next week I was quietly informed by my very converted

Aunt Deloris, that I must come home alone on the bus 

and not stay 

for Wednesday afternoon after school Sunday School.

That was just too cool, I did not like Sunday School...

even on Wednesday afternoon.

I had enjoyed reading the simple illustrated books

of Bible stories for children

that some traveling salesman sold to my Mother.

But those glorified events of old, just left me in the cold.

The stories had nothing to ease the tense environment around me

and the troubled people who carried my family history.

Nor all the troubled friends they might commiserate with

over cold beers and warm whisky.

My family did not attend church or make plans or go on vacations

to visit unknown places, they were too caught up in survival obligations.

So I grew up mostly society free, quite blissfully unaware

of the things that the so called normal world...

Would someday try to demand of me.

Mother dabbled in palm reading and Grandmother dabbled in astrology.

Mother loved books and music too, so I was exposed in tiny tidbit ways

To elements of culture tried and true, but I still became...

                             

So curious about how those little wafers tasted.

Attending church while staying with Uncle Jack and converted Aunt Deloris

I was not allowed to step forward with my cousins to receive communion, because I had not been baptized and sanitized by the Catholic Church.

I did not care about the religious favors...

But I really wanted to taste one of those little round wafers.

Since I had not “accepted Christ as my saviour” I was not allowed

to take the symbolic bread and wine

Of his body and blood that bought a good Catholic his eternal love.

Oh, and a trip to heaven above.

Above what I cannot say, there must be, just has to be, a better way!

Years later when I had occasion to sneak one - it was tasteless and dull,

a stale beige crumb.

Like the stale Christian dogmas promising hellfire and brimstone

if you sinned ever again,

But could give only insane inane reasons as to why...

I had to shrug it off with a sigh.

Hellfire made no sense to me and I remember saying to myself,

“The world would be fine if it was just me and the plants and the animals.

It’s the people who are messing everything up!”

Partially it was true but it just so happens... that I was a people too.

So I honored Christ, not as my saviour, but as a great prophet.

Along with Buddha and Muhammad and Tecumseh

the great Shawnee Indian chief.

I had not actually heard of Tecumseh yet, but he was soon found, 
as I sought out a more sensible, sensitive and sane God...

To wrap my spirit around.

There had to be a better way! So much misery and self destruction at play,

Unfolding all around me.

I searched beyond christendom for answers that might ground me

into the love that was said to come from above.

I really wanted to know what in in the name of heaven really made life tick and talk...

I longed for a more lighted path to walk.

Flashback to when I was four, I did not feel small

but just as big as everyone else,

no matter how short or tall.

Never did I feel insignificant... until I started school.

Where they commenced to condense me into their can of “normals” and a confusing set of morals.

It succeeded to some degree.

Yet my spirit still remembered how to be even though I learned to pretend that it did not and that I did not

And that created lots of conflicting signals that were very confusing

to the people I met...

Some of those tangles I will never forget!

I tried on various masks and costumes and shields over time.

All worked for a time at different times and then had to be nevermore

as I peeled off ever more subtle layers that made me...

Burn too cold or too hot as someone I was not.

The search was for inner gold and not to be sold on less but only more.

Golden is what drove me, back seat driver with hands on the wheel,

Steering me unbidden to where the answers lay hidden...

Deep within me, all around me and before.

Before I began to doubt myself and dim my light

and layer the gold with pain and fright...

Dulled by the blight of confusion because I had no one to reflect

the truth of me back to me...

Truthfully.

But only with mirrors clouded by distortions reflected to them

by those wounded even more.

Over many years I slowly, painfully repolished the inner mirrors clear

of distorted reflections and defensive protections.

Now I go on long walks with the little girl inside who knew...

how to be and I am learning to love her again because I can no longer hide

from the blazing golden blue of her wise eyes.

The flame within them is the I am that I truly am...

We are becoming one and the same again.

Inside Her is where I rediscovered the essence of Christ Consciousness.

After a book about the Mystic Christ and the Divine Feminine

Called me to awareness of its presence,

a choice selection from the metaphysical section...

Of the biggest Barnes & Noble Bookstore in New York City.

I learned Deloris means “Sorrows” and my poor Aunt had so many.

Mother has shared stories about her elder sister

Who was converted to Aunt Deloris.

From what I now see in my freshly polished mirror

It seems the younger Deloris

Was happier when unconverted, her beliefs flying free...

When she was called by the nickname Dee Dee.

Now I have reversed the curse

of distorted mirrors and lack of self worth.

Coming full circle, I spiral up to the next redemption

of truth within my being.

In that sacred place where precocious joy sparkles in child wise eyes.

Swan white grace celebrates the sweet fastness

of freedom to once again sip...

From the inner vastness.

With my soul safe and fully reimbursed, I am finally freeing myself to once again...

Live my life in free verse.

Photos&Text©September2012Shauniel