Invisibility

Oh, invisible me
Could I slip through the cracks
Even disappear into the atmosphere

Or could I slip inside
Your beautiful mind
And reside there

But, for the fear of not being accepted
Or the scalding truth of being rejected

No map to lead the way
For your voice reverberates
The music my heart wants to play
If only I could scale these prison gates

If only I could tear down the walls
And escape from inside
These sterile, vacant halls
I could be visible and alive

By Kyra Faith Jackman
4/15/2014 @ 2:20pm

Disconnected Connection

We run to convenience
Losing the personal touch
That as humans,
We crave so much.
We become so disconnected
All the while
Convincing ourselves
We are more connected, more in touch.
We are less in tune with reality,
becoming more and more disjointed.

If we cannot hear
The emotions behind the words
If we cannot experience
All that is revealed in body language.
Can we really engage?
Can we really connect?
We can read the words
Or hear the voices,
All is left up to our interpretation.
Still, it is like watching
A performance from backstage.


Written by Kyra Faith 8/12/2005 and revised 3/28/2011

INTO

Here is a poem I completed on September 14, 1989.

INTO
Grasping tight
Into this
Moment of confusion
Stripped of power
I speak,
Time follows,
I repeat.

All is lost into darkness.
Shadows faded,
I found
A strength within
Unknown,
So deep,
Shallow to the cause.
A spark captured
Light of day.

The Dust

I had lost my focus for too long.
A thick layer of dust gathered,
it seemed as a wool blanket
covering my hopes and dreams.
Why had I allowed myself to slip away so?
How had one experience and one person
helped me to uncover and discover?
The dust buried my soul,
my true self, for so long.

Was I so afraid to be?
That I had allowed myself to . . .
not be, feel, think or create
from the inside as I know I can.

How much different the world looks to me now.
How I feel with so much more intensity.
Still, in doing so,
I am aware of the possibilities
that the strength of what I feel will increase,
be enlightened with every turn, with every glance
and with each introduction that follows.

The colors are so bold and bright.
The variables in between are so rich and plentiful.
So full of wonder and excitement
is the path ahead.
Still, I feel fear tugging at my back.
Struggling, the fear tries to keep my steps forward
to a tiptoe, a mere shuffle.
I must push ahead,
fear at my back, possibility in my sights,
follow the path until . . .
I meet another path, until . . .

Standing Still . . . Awakened!

A follow up to my last post, this is another composition of mine from that same period in November of 2002 when I was experiencing some serious changes in myself, in my perspective from the inside out.

Standing Still . . . Awakened!

Time passed and I stood still,
waiting for the world to offer itself,
waiting for the fruits of my labor to be offered up
as reward for hardships,
as payment overdue
for pain and suffering,
for years, for tears, for heartache
as if it was owed to me,
as if it was written in some contract
of life, of parent to child,
of friend to friend, of sibling to sibling . . .
a contract, written by me for myself.

No other is responsible
for bringing the fruits to the table,
for bringing the fruits to me,
for bringing me to the fruits
that are offered by the world,
waiting to be selected and tasted,
devoured, enjoyed, savored
for each and every bite offers
a sample of sweet, sour, bitter,
rough in texture,
filling me whole and leaving behind
a taste of sweet, a bit of sour,
bitterness on the tongue
that lingers awhile
offering gifts
for my senses
to be awakened,
awakened day after day.

Lovers

I notice them there.
Although, they are unaware,
Locked, one to the other,
Energy drawing them together.
Is there anything else?
Is there anyone else?
They have all that they need,
As solid as can be,
Their cups are filled and overflowing.
Well, I really should be going.
Still, I cannot resist the urge to stare.
Since they do not realize I am there,
The beauty is too much to resist.
Why can't I find something like this?
Such a gift is reserved,
For those who truly deserve.
If I could just have a taste,
I would treasure it until the end of my days.
My eyes are fixated on their intensity,
My heart realizes it is not my destiny.
My soul's desire fuels the fire inside of me.
I find myself in an empty room with only my reflection,
Searching for a reason why my heart deserves a true companion.

Take the Baby Home, Hold Her Heart in Yours

I would not be who I am without suffering through
the terrors and the pain.
Still, I sometimes imagine what a more simplistic past could do
to reinvent my soul today.


Take the baby home and keep her under lock and key,
save her from the evil that hovers and look what she'll turn out to be.
Take your daughter home and protect her innocence,
keep her just beneath your wings and offer evil no forgiveness.
Take your child home and hold her heart in yours,
protect her soul, give her wings and she will certainly soar.
Take your little one into the garden where birds sing and butterflies dance,
don't let the sun go down on her hopes and her dreams, give her a chance.
Take the baby home again and keep her under lock and key,
save her life, save her soul, save her grace and dignity.

Another poem . . .

Marching in the Fool’s Parade

You draw me in
Without even a thought
You reeled me in and threw me back
As soon I was caught

The tangled web inside my head
Was woven with your hands
Now each time I go to bed
I’m dreaming up impossible plans

I’m marching in the fool’s parade
On tiptoes like the autumn clouds
My heart danced to the songs you played
Feeling certain that the mate of my soul was found

Now, I see you’re not with me
You’ve made your distance known
Still, inside my mind, I see
The truth and reality of what you have shown

The songs play on each and every day
They bring gifts of love and light
Pouring passion into my heart along the way
Into my soul to broaden my sight

I’m marching in the fool’s parade
On tiptoes like the autumn clouds
My heart danced to the songs you played
Both on the air and on the ground

I’m marching in the fool’s parade
Carrying the load of mistakes I’ve made

Journeys of the Heart

The heart can journey endlessly
Leading the mind out from the ruins
The heart is innately free
Even as the mind is trapped in confusion

Let the heart travel
Let it be your guide
It reminds you not to dwell
In spaces that allow you to hide

The heart cannot thrive in a state of fear
The mind draws this in and hides behind it
Finding a comfortable discomfort here
Stuck, no room for change in this state of mind

Fear tries to take over, heart and soul
While your mind remains paralyzed
Making it impossible to reach your goals
As you lose sight of the soul your heart designed

All is lost to this power called fear
If you let your guard down and let it in
The challenge is very clear
The strength is within you to win

Fear or your heart can be your guide
The choice is in your mind's eye
Do not go to that place and hide
Be alive, bust through the fear inside

Life is not ahead of you
It is full and present in the here and now
You may have some fighting to do
To show your mind the why and how

The rewards are endless
It is evident from the start
As soon as you clean up the mess
That fear has created in your heart

The clarity will bring light
To the visions of your soul
Your heart will guide your sight
The path will be lit toward becoming whole

The Colors of Love

Time for sharing poetry again. I have been writing poetry since about the age of 10. Writing was always an outlet, a saving grace for me in the early years. I was not sure that I loved it or that I was even good at it but it gave me a sense of freedom and helped me through my childhood. It helped me to save myself from getting lost in those very dark places that look inviting to a child that is suffering and suffering, I was. So, after some time, writing became more than just an outlet for me. I fell in love with writing and began really learning a lot about my struggles, the lessons within them and my triumphs from reading what I had written. Also, I began to grow as a writer and this made me love it even more deeply. As my passion for writing grew, I experienced a lot of growth and that cycle has continued throughout the years. My writing from the early years seems much different to me than the compositions that I create today.
Here is a poem I wrote on 7/25/90:

The Colors of Love

It's love and personality
Stemming from positive minds
Hearts come together
Bringing forth more and more
Of the colors of the world

Here, there, and in between
As time turns
The light breaks out
Across the land each day

The colors of the world
Though often tucked away
And sometimes lost
In the chaos of everyday life
Are vivid and constant
If not gradually brighter
In the middle of

LOVE

Running high
Forward into the night

By Kyra Faith

Falling Crystals

A scene created
And magically defined
By each falling crystal
To stimulate the mind.

Surreal in it's beauty and grace
The white blanket grows
A perfect inspiration
For poetry and prose.