Sometimes when I finish pulling lines from the previous week’s posts I am drawn into the resulting ‘reVerse’, begging me to wrap myself in it…a moment of pure grace. I read the collage of snippets over and over savoring each word. I so needed this respite from the ugly discourse of recent days…oh, how I needed it!

I remember a time when we were taught manners, and admonished for not minding them. I remember when it was customary to say things like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, ‘pardon’ or ‘excuse me’…when it was polite to offer someone a place ahead of you in line, when we dressed up for special occasions, when we valued education, our elders, and always told the truth…even if it hurt or was uncomfortable because lying was one of the most horrible things anyone could do. I remember when being a person of faith meant that you lived by a higher standard, loving mercy, doing justice, walking in compassion, serving the least.

Perhaps I’m just delusional and these memories aren’t real at all. Maybe these things are figments of my imagination…a utopia that existed in my closed, privileged, safe little world. I wish I had been more aware. I wonder why I was not. How did I miss it? Why am I surprised by the ugliness rumbling just beneath the surface and blaring at us now in broad daylight? It’s been this way for a while now.

It feels like one step forward, two steps back. It feels like when you’re trying to inconspicuously itch a scab but end up ripping it off and blood is everywhere and you try not to notice it and then act surprised after following the horrified gaze of onlookers to your bloody forearm. We’re told to leave scabs alone. To let them heal…but sometimes they itch! And sometimes it takes a long time for them to heal.

We’ve been scratching the surface of our deep wounds for several years now. But this time we knocked the scab off and we’re bleeding. It’s messy. If any good thing can be gleaned from this mess, it is that we finally see reality. More and more of us are waking up and stepping up to be counted. “Me too.” There is a new reality rumbling just under the surface. It might even be that utopian daydream I imagined. Or at least it could be. As for me, that’s what I’m hoping for and determined to make happen. Forgive me for not noticing before…but I think you are pretty spectacular and I think we can all do better and be better. If you’re not feeling it, just ask me. I’ll tell you. Better yet, let me show you.

Peace, love and light my loves…go gently.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 14 January 2018

in the cellar…forgotten
crimson velvet frippery
those who are rooted deep
denying a dream
call it kismet; call it fate
but it was too late
always the day following a full moon
angels not devils
eternity of almost
deep is the water
it is time to dream
go gently my loves

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.