The Canceled Acclaim

The Canceled Acclaim

(“Pride lands you flat on your face; humility prepares you for honors.” Proverbs 29:23 [The Message]

The days were stitched together like fibers
on a loom. It was daylight too often, it was
late in the afternoon. I couldn’t predict what the
day would become; I only envisioned a few moments
when the light would favor my imagination.
I longed for something created to ease my mind,
something I could point to that broke the rules I
already patterned to sit me closer to the
heights of power.

Wishing I could live more lowly and still be
acknowledged for my unseen character,
I reminded myself of the notes I could play while
ignoring the fingers that slipped across the black
and white keys.

My patience was tested, my longings more congested
than a winter’s cold or a summer’s scorn. I only
desired something beyond the corners of
hand-me-down
notions that I hid behind the closet doors of
my mind.

I took comfort in numbers; in the crowds I thought
shadowed my measured words. I wondered if
I could pacify the spaciousness that my depression
deserved. I confessed it all, this addiction to
connection, and wondered which way I could turn.

Above or below, I could not decipher what the
final judgement would mean. I had lifted more
weight
than my peers had attempted. And yet I was
still questioned my mental health. It was
daylight I craved, and a handful of accolades I thought
would restore my attention to legal details
that never let go of my mind.

Of All Days

Of All Days

(“So all Israel brought up the ark of the covenant of the Lord with shouts, with the sounding of rams’ horns and trumpets, and of cymbals, and the playing of lyres and harps.” 1 Chronicles 15:28)

So I said to them, once the lightness had returned to my step:

“I was warned about the storms you bring,
with your refusals to sing, and everything you see that has
turned the great green world black. I will not turn back.”

And they just looked at me, mouths hanging open, not a breath taken,
and spears for eyes that pierced the thought bubble above my head:

They said:

“When will you learn it is our call to burn the beastly fields
that are filled with weeds and wheat beneath your feet. When will
you see, take note, and agree with our proposal, read it squarely,
about our disposal of human garbage at the curb.”

And I just looked at them, mouth hanging open, my breath still shaken,
and years of lies that made me feel different. Until this little bit of time.

Come on, people. Dance, people. Look upward, darlings. Look outward, pals.
Listen slowly, sisters. Listen surely, brothers. For the demons are canceled
for the day.

Invite every opponent, swing open the mighty iron gates,
Lay out the long red carpet, Ring the bells, it’s not too late
for every point on the globe to hear the chimes singing,
“Disrobe your objections and dance the directions of the
three-beats-in-one.”

So I said to them, once the smoke rose above the clouds
the hugged the sun like chariot wheels across the sky:

“Here is why I wrote this tune (I knew the lyrics would drive
you crazy, and still, there they are.) Do you see how far we are
from the

Joy of Mercy

The

Glee of Grace

The

Hymn of Peace

And the

Cancelled Notes we owed and could never pay? So I ask honestly,
Why, on this, of all days, would you try to keep anyone away?”