Krissy Mosley Ministries

In my mind, I’ve come across the world-shakingly staring at all the tiny things that stays the same, the blue-eyed sky, milkweeds tall as people, always moving towards me. I thought maybe just maybe, I’m not asking God the right questions

and somehow guilt plasters its weight on to my body in good fat, lard, ghee, avocado oil, more importantly, the stain of its fear pressing into the church clothes I don’t know how to get rid of, so I wear them. Sunday’s peasant dress tuck into tub ware,  deportations -small – small helpless children, high heel, black pumps – I know what its like mothers are gone (sold away  ) I know what its like being in another country, not from the one you came- sister somewhere, mama -somewhere, and then there’s me, six generations later

sister’s house was raided I was too far away- God seemed further and all she wanted was a home, all I wanted was a goal that she could be proud of. When asked she’ll tell you all that’s behind her now, she’s moved on…

I ‘ve gone back to God persistently asking …

there’s no time be concerned with niceties, 

God and church are not one and the same

I do believe God understands my rage,

God meets me on my street, in my home

where the air is not so clean, pass the bodega and the meat shop

right over 21st street.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In myself, now that I am enough

I still smell the wide eye ashes that swing in mid-summer

jealous rains that stir up tornadoes with rage and determination

determined to disrupt everything we’ve been planting

determined to stay longer than I intended

rational about my thoughts

what they use to say- darkie, cooning-Negra

I pay that no-never mind these days, what I am…

don’t get me wrong, I still melt when I hear those words but,

the bones I am becoming, are welded in bones of stone

a hue of splendor, dashingly dark red lit with determination

small fame, now that I enough, I don’t need hormones to be tall

or cat-eye lashes to be seen

now that I am enough,

my words are enough

my voice is enough

my shout is resurrected

my stance is secure

my purpose is steadfast

my prayer is fervent

my joy is made whole

now that I am enough… Kindness sis Krissy

 

 

 

The truth bares its bone of bones and trade

they’d trade their spirits for red wine- roses picked clean.

mother began to sing, “Nobody Knows  the trouble I’ve seen,

She’d given birth to many of Nobody things- whose arms are those -she holds the pieces of missing girls, whose legs are these – she maps a journey- underground, wild-child, indigo, negro, brown, white girl, Latino – all the hurt is the same

Whose breast are these, whose lips, whose eyes?

one helped a man find a dog,

she never came back,

one on the playground in the schoolyard

one holds the riddle, thousands of men to ban abortion

Mother had forgotten – her body, her prayers, her arms, her legs

whose blood is this? Kindness sis Krissy

 

Not that I have it all together

but I hope to one day make you proud

Not that I’ve survived a thousand-summers

I’ve made it out somehow…

looking for God in all the wrong places

days piled on days, it’s crazy how it all sounds

and if, God’s not hiding- then where in the world?

I’m sure they’ve stock pilled him in churches

made him on huge billboard signs

I’m sure they’ve collected millions in the name of

a moneyless, God

God who does not need economics yet understand cosmic-flow

A God who does not need wishes yet has made many of dreams come true

but hears voices of the souls who are so close, they  can call

anytime and anywhere on the smallest spec of faith

through the depths in the lowest hell

through the miraculous wonders, unable to transcribe

there is God and here is God and anywhere you need God to be…. kindness sis Krissy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d gone away mostly

unnoticed, unremitted

evaporating against

a massively, spirited-feeling

God is rest

God is rest

God is rest…

I’d find

myself resting in God

God resting in me,

unbraided, imperial feeling

unbending – the velvet sky

even she purses a silent howl

the cares of living and sorrow

weary, plundered in the morrow

but  God if rest has come

far be it the days of work and sun

kindness sis. krissy Mosley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the other side of growing up
I didn’t realize until I started
having meditative- contemplative
meetings with my mind
There I was getting to be 40 more real- 35
on the side stuck this little green-gullible girl
a rebel,
afro-mellow, drama-free
non-double jointed walker.
Believing humans made God out-to-be a murder
but I knew God would never kill
it wasn’t in his nature
to subject the thing God loves the most
with punishment and cruelty
So…
Let’s clear God’s name
let’s stand presently accountable
for things heinous, unspeakable and inhumane,
the God I know, would never “cast the first stone”
and so it would seem it may take me the next 40 years
to understand God and 40 more to understand why we
did nothing.
Then I realized man…

Man has always wanted to be God.
Swivel side to side, sit on top of golden glass pretending to
make the sunrise, cause the moon to descend, make rainfall and feed every green bird and tree.
but God in a gentle laugh, holds us tightly in one hand and galaxies in the other, knowing
how it all ends, and how it all began.~kindness krissy

The things that make me happy are not material.
They are the sheer joy of children playing wild and free
They are The glowing lights when street turn quiet
They are small ideas that bring a fresh perspective
They are learning from every adventure
and knowing when one door closes

there are thousands, of open doors right in front of you~Krissy Mosley

And sometimes you feel,
you’re losing your children to the monsters you can’t see
the secrets tip softly, against a myriad of quicksand
our ears pick out palpitations of the heart

retroactive, our hips spin out-of-socket
overactive commotion, back then we waited to tell you,
lifted you, held the darkness at bay

prayed you’d be better, anything better than what we became.
loving you, felt like a gentle moonlight pressed against a cold-hearted world
and constantly, we prayed that you feel love,

when breeze crawls upon your skin, may you feel love
when you climb the highest mountain with sweat and you watched a thousand sunsets
after- all, you’ve spent seems to be in vain,

I pray you know, you can come home
to a love that’s always waiting, always here
always ready to love you~kindness sis Krissy

As the world evolves into stranger places

the stranger things are us, learning ourselves from the inside

breaking the blood of the broken

life is so humbling and I even can’t explain this feeling

when mountains move, mud collapses, there is no bottom

At 3:04 am the cry of the soul brought them closer together

tethered ropes of iron prayers,

Anybody tell you its okay to lose? All that’s worth losing

Anybody tell you fight because you smell death coming

ain’t it something to share a love like that

share a shameful burden, on a thing like that,

the psyche behind love in its vastness, loving all that’s left, tearing through the verse of this poem, loving the things that are forgotten, loving them when they refuse,  A kilt of love that’s tender,  A love that bends,  A infinite psyche of love that has no end.~Kidness sis. Krissy