31mar13

to wish aloud is to give permission to be
unauthorized wishes must not define me
my sovereign Lord has that responsibility
in him I rest, silently

lost in translation - morality

Do you know that some languages have words to which there is no English parallel?

What this means is that in the culture of the English-speaker that concept isn't recognised; there is no need to put a word to it.

Consider the Zulu term "sawubona". Some English-speakers translate this to "hello", which is often a simple, meaningless passing phrase in the English-speaking culture. Truly, the word speaks to a much deeper notion of recognition which translates more closely to "i see you [on a deep spiritual level which brings you into existence]". Similar examples exist with other language comparisons.

Unlike a word which translates to something immediately tangible, like say a "chair", these concepts are harder to compare since the equivalent doesn't exist in that culture. So the words fall on untrained ears.

Thing is, the culture is not even aware of what is missing.

I've observed a similar phenomenon among many people in the world culture. The ideas of morality have been so skewed and eroded over time that some today know nothing else and can not comprehend the Godly concepts of righteousness and purity.

In their world, it simply doesn't exist.

Here's the thing though; blindness [and conviction in such blindness] does not validate lifestyle.

This is God's world [regardless of what one chooses to believe] and "my world" must establish [and be established in] His founding principles.

© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2013

misplaced hope

I broke a heart today.
Rather,
crushed it.

The tender flesh barely resisted,
as I twisted it so.
I bound it with misplaced hope
now on my hands,
the blood of a doe-eyed innocent.

It was the gentle heart
of a true
gentle
man.

What
monster
am I?

Turns out
a broken heart
is a dangerous one.

See,
since its devastation
my heart had only hoped to hope.

Then,
he came.

Though
the atrophied muscles feared over-exertion at his proposition:
Love,

I reasoned:
Is it not
at the point of failure
that strength
is borne?

But
I questioned:
How could this be real?
Be true?
When it comes to the core of life
he doesn't see it like i do.

Yet,
i found myself marking my daydreams
perchance they came true;
beginning to idolise a simple man
a lovely man.
But just that;
a man.

Where things of beauty
once brought my spirit to God,
they filled my mind of him.

I had to
re-
turn.


So
I missed the mark.
And there is collateral damage.
For me,
For him.
I inflicted wounds
with the shards of my own broken heart
as, well-meaning,
he offered to cradle it.

Ohso, forgive me.

Lord, forgive me.



© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2013

addressing my self-indulgence

Last year, I went through enough experiences of failure [within a relatively short period of time] to rock me to the core.

My most recent posts have mostly been about that. About looking inside and seeing [and confronting] the inner turmoil which now seemed to define "Chereese".

It is rough.

I'm not necessarily proud of all my moments; of the weakness and darkness my poetry began to represent. The theme of hope was never lost, though perhaps only expressed intermittently. And this being the journal of my trek to self-realisation I own every moment. However, it is time to move up and on with joy.

But what did I hope for?

Indeed, it was to be free of the confusion that comes with the territory when one's identity comes into question.

This means re-turning my gaze to my Lord; away from the pain and uncertainty that is in me and to the clarification and invariability that IS him.

I have discovered His peace, which abundantly covers those who "worry about nothing; instead pray about everything" [Phil 4v6] and I am determined to return to it.

In short, my posts [and my life] shall be less about my pain and more about His reign.


Chereese

20mar13

The fuel of daydreams is the hope that they will be.
The fool of daydreams is that they probably never will.

© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2013

9MAR13

Memories wrapped up in experiences anew.

See, memories don't leave like people do.

Is anything, then, ever truly new?

If all I encounter, is a memory of you?