Krissy Mosley Ministries

Quite naturally, we’ve been collecting photos/ wrap them up in plastic suitcases
preserve them/ loving things/dead and easy ways of what was/ what scars/ what sacred dark symposiums

Confidential truths, yellow-yoke factories
golden, broken-folds playing over and over

three minutes/runbacks
seven minutes hard -boiled
we like them five-minute memories scrabbled

among the distance, it has taken many stretched arms
too stretched out of love to call them holy
too tired to press out any more lies
I’m not sure we could

quite naturally we are, scattered pictures of 1988
polaroid black, white stripe at the bottom

moving steadily, while the sun sleeps over yonder
playing in the dark, rising lungs gasp in weepy
rainbows, written in the veins of private sectors
living this that is…

change with suitcases, black duffle bags,
no strings or at least we got on Greyhound that way.

Left all that, sin-crap standing on the curb.
kick rocks, beat them, drown that sorry out
One bedroom, three children sleeping.
Bumper stickers, Jesus saves on windows.

Pancakes for breakfast, for lunch for dinner too
Put that polaroid on repeat, play it back slow

and remember~ your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

Over there and over here
storms like Sundays’ meetings
they keep coming.

life’s not supposed to hurt, not like
a thousand different storms
thrashing out that kind of beauty

all we’ve ever owned on the street
evicted shoelaces, and nothing to keep

not the door, not the chair, not the love-seat,
not even the wallpaper.

whispers of voices, walking by

they didn’t notice the beatings,
they didn’t see the bravery

see me standing in the storm
swallow back misery and keep
my feet on the ground

they didn’t see
my ears to the thunder
how wide my hips are- holding all my children

they didn’t see me call on Jesus
walk on water, sweep up my prayers
with brooms, I don’t own

they didn’t know, I brought the storm~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley

If all the world could take a back seat of
all the noise plundering
my faults into the distant
past.

I could hear the symphony of a billion lights
and chords could catch the ache/
for a second time, and I’d play the chords
of all the lights/ that I could ever be

broken and healing
wounded and mending
suffering and sacrifice
fallen and restored
victim and conqueror

this time…
I’d be better for me
oh – I’d be free for me
I’d be a billion growing lights
standing tall under the wonders
of a fallen plan.~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley

I’d fought like many women before me not to be this… I’d thought of myself better off and that was a lie. Then one day I thought I should tell the whole truth.

It’s a cultural thing of the fatherless to be caged little birds. Or the tattered strings before the rainbow’s that hold us together after suicide or murder, the blackout, the taste of fear starts with the lump in the throat. Fatherless

Sets in and the world goes on like nothing ever happened.

Daggers for words,

if there’s everything I can do let us know. Your father was a great man. You don’t see it now because you’re too young but eventually, the pain subsides. You’ll be okay. He’s In a better place. God has called them home.

Fear leaves a sour taste in the mouth. The disrupting truth I’d hate to admit but I’ve considered suicide with three kids and a halfway supportive husband. He doesn’t know this…

I’ve tied sheets around my neck, tied them to the other end of the bed but I couldn’t do it. I never wanted my kids to suffer like me.

So here it goes.. it’s the one kindness I could count on.

When everyone forgets and they tell you to move on or they use these double-edged daggers “pull yourself up by your own bootstraps”

1) Here’s what you can do: Tell your story even if you cry, if you discover the ugliness of the truths. Tell it anyway.

2) When you feel nothing else matters: and you need to get through the hard spots. I found laughter even if it’s for a split second. Laughter offers the small spots of relief. https://chopra.com/articles/6-reasons-why-laughter-is-the-best-medicine

3) Find laughter in something. It’s said through plenty of research laughter is medicine so find laughter and laugh often.

4) When there are moments the tears come in waves: don’t stop the water from falling. Cry if you must. Its a sign of life. So cry on…

5) Go old school: listen to the classics if its gospel, or the spirituals or be-boop or old-school hip-hop. Zone out to uplifting things it helps a great of suffering

6) If you can’t tell anyone you trust: find an animal friend they are great companions.

7) The old saying “Dance it Out”: It works dance out the rage or the hurt, the confusion the loneliness, the hate

8) Find faith in something: For me, it’s been prayer, Long talks with God during the night has gotten me through the next morning. it’s allowed me to keep what sanity I have left.

Prayer has offered much relief this year alone
I lost a cousin to suicide and that’s when the loss of my father came back all at once.

Yes, I’ve been on my knees silently when I can’t speak. On my knees when all I can do is cry- sobbing for hours. Even debating and reasoning with God.
This is my short list and by no means is this the be-all-end-all answers to this

So feel free to add on to it.  I’m thinking of making this a
Guidebook in print more to come. Please share your thoughts if you like
P.S. your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

All at once it seemed to be 1.49am
that’s when I started to dream.

I know this because somehow,
I close my eyes staring at the time.

There were many crystal fountains but they weren’t turning
there were many kinds of streams but none, flowing
there were beds of flowers: dandelions, lilacs, and bluebonnets
some wilted others had lost their spin.

I’d met an oracle along the way
only he wasn’t leading

and so the spirit moved

I wrote this little wound
to heal..

I’d found peace
and no one left to blame~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

At first, I thought
it must be selfish.
as the punch rippled through
mama’s three hundred pound body
with early morning bacon staggered-air
At first hit, the jabs to the chest didn’t seem to phase
but what, hum, stunned manifest

A brother, A sister
A family falling apart
He’d hit stone.
I know mama’s gotta left-hook
like a drunken man.

Even when the world sitting flat on their faces
they fought.

They put all that hatred in the world in their fist and
fought, until blue and red lights arrived.

And even then, nothing could stop him.
I locked the door but he’d kicked the door in.

I stood cold, peeping through the cubbyhole.
The high-tide, rise, and fall.

A thousand uncounted screams
falling down into the rage of summer.

Lost and found
delayed and arriving

Sinking afar
the fun of summer.

The children who dream
who grow up fast,

The mamas’ who fight for their very lives
for their unwanted babies.

Social workers who report.

Churches renamed post-wards
bringing out the dead.

Hospitals and nurses
who take out bruised-hooks
replace pains with pills.

What heals a family?

A surge of resilence
Throw out all the lies
put out the secrets
in the street.

Nothing to hide.
Come home
little children/ come home~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

Today I’ve felt invisible.
The bump in the hallway.
The cold shoulder in the lunchroom.

An awkward space opens wider and smaller as I fill it.
I’ve raised my voice, roaring in transmission
Slipping motorless on purpose

Composure, head up act-like I belong
To popularity. To the roaring crowd
and slip away, anyway I can to be myself

Slip, small, slip, small, slip…
Invisibility is an odd man’s disease
environmentally stung by the people
on notice,

What remedy, I’ve rendered
when I am led
away

To the rocks higher than I
whose angels bring fresh manna
when we are forgotten.

Wash our
breathless tears with hyssop and myrrh

I pray,
Dear God/ he who feeds little birds help
all lost birds, like me,~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley

My inner conversations seem to be much louder these days. As my thoughts catch buses alone. Down slick dark roads, where nobody’s lives, and nobody knows where we’re going not even me.

It’s d 9:19 as turn in. There’s lady pushing a deflated wheel. On the rim, she’s been riding like that for two days. I know it’s none of my business but why.

Why ride the rim?

Flapping consoling what is
slowing down traffic,
hazardous flashes glare.
On her way to work, I guess by any means
Meanwhile, I caught bus 23. Standing shoulder to shoulder an older woman whooped me with her cane. I moaned, for a little while. Got off at the next stop said for all that I could walk the rest of the way.

I’d already picked up speed. Before I knew it, I was running trying to catch the next bus before my thoughts got out ahead of me. ~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley