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“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. When I let go of what I have, I receive what I need.” — Lao Tzu
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I’m ready to begin,
ready to ignite,
ready to disconnect,
ready to write.
It takes a while until those tears marinade the meat and bones.
The leaves have crumbled into winter and winter has fallen
bitter- below freezing, icy- storms trembling,
some think last days,
some remain unbothered
some are concerned with climate change
I think Maya Angelou “Nobody but nobody can make it out here alone”
I think Emily Dickinson “I could not stop for death”
I think Gwedolyn Brooks “I do not want fire screaming up the sky families killed in their doorways”
I think Ladan Osman “I watched the three legged cat grieve you, head in his paws”
I think of me the darkness inside & I’m not dead yet
_____________your poet Krissy Mosley__________________________
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Okay I’ve been off the scene for a while. Some days, writing doesn’t come easy. And I’m learning from my failures.
I’m embracing the true art of falling. The art of getting back up, to try again. And when that fails, try again.
There’s art here: when I can laugh at myself. For my mistakes. When I can see the rejection letters from my writing. It’s not -rejection of me, its recognition of the areas of progress, places where I am striving.
So I’m dusting myself off. Listening to the the spin cycle, the sounds of running water, breaking away from the old.
Embracing the falls,
the spins, every
bit of the journey. your Poet Krissy Mosley
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Dear Ancestors, thank you for being answered prayers of the sunset/ you red-yearning,/ you-sky-body/
you pour libation like burning tea leaves in honor of my release
how far we have come, like ocean-body -souls, swirling, names of the elders
my mother’s mother, her mother’s mother, our elder’s mother, in other words their sugar coated stripes, their heavy laden tears , their transmissions – I pray you- as they entered the other side. your Poet Krissy Mosley©2023
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Leaping with fresh waters, listening to the invisible, mystical, whimsical, music in my head ~your Poet Krissy
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Poet Krissy Mosley She is a black gypsy
her law is love
it is the fruit of her lips
and when she gives
she gives out of her belly
ancient waters – running(s)
of wisdom from purgatory
of lost soul- she loves to find
binding the ashes together
binding the smoke and flame
shadows of all shades
shadows of days – in lonely
shadows of nights – in longing
shadows of scratching and surviving
and when she gives the trees bow at her offerings
the sky breathe(s) – fresh winds in her direction
seedlings jump into germination
conjuring up the power of connection
the power of affection
the power – a simple touch
to heal lost souls like mine~ Krissy Mosley
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it will take everything
to watch my soul drift
like a fountain –
setting sail for the first time….
Poet Krissy Mosely
Krissy Mosley Ministries 