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Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • Weeping Warriors: Day30 #NaPoWriMo

    April 30th, 2022
    Photo by Sourav Mishra on Pexels.com

    My deepest desire, to sit inside 

    a single teardrop, to know the deepest thing from tears

    manna from heaven, to fall inside,

    witness the chime and bell. A tall tale of woes,

     mewling, cooing, bursting little things

     have you ever cried over a box of chocolates 

    have you ever put your best foot forward, 

    have you ever had a silent scream,

    ball up inside fetus position,   

    returned -incarnations,- it be-

     rain from my own soul, nana’s scent, 

    mascara running, leading a midnight of

    stars, tangent pearls of rivers streaming

    right in my own front yard. And just when you thought 

    you were finished, an army of one, made you surrender, wave the 

    white flag, shimmed you- upside down, say its’ name, 

    I’m crying, and I’m proud.

    Poet Krissy Mosley

    Poet Krissy Mosley 2022

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  • Mama’s Cadence:

    March 3rd, 2020

    Just the other day, I ran into the early years of myself. Barely, 4 feet tall, mostly all knees and elbows. I knew it was me, The sun became the smile on both sides of my cheeks. The wind never did know how to style my hair.

    Laughter and I were two peas in a pod. Laughing so hard, til my spleen ached in between the moments of leaving home so mama could find another job and a better place to live. Those were hard and good times. Times of pruning and turning. Times uncertain yet worthy of learning.

    They were the years the taught me the most resilience. Mama always had a bounce back, (back-bone) spirit. Even now, Mama still wears her smile like its’ Sunday.

    She leans over from her hospital bed takes a few sips of steamy Chamomile and says “chile, just smiling, that’s makeup’ enough for me.”

    Mama never did believe God made anyone old. Just grace enough to keep on living.

    Mama: “getting old was a concept man made. You know, the beauty that God gave, never get’s old. Even when life beats at you or dust-your-coat a few times. So what! You gotta, keep picking up that dust. Blowin’ it back to the wind. If gets down into your eyes and makes your face, get all red and puffy. Wipe that snot off.

    Mama: “Crying is the water of life. So if I’m crying, I’m still here. If I’m in pain. My body make a little noise at night . I’m still striving, cause I’m still here.”

    “That’s alright by me.”

    kindness sis Krissy

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