Voices of a Valley Ascended
Here me now, I come not to bury you nor to praise you . . .
I come with a cup of water . . . will you drink?
Remember, water is life meaning what I give you could either take yours or give you one . . .
But you have to drink to know
Everything in this world will break you, but it's your choice to bend,
For the breeze blows hard against the palm everyday and yet the palm remains, standing
For it opens its hands in warm embrace and still have its visitors offer slices from sharp
matchetes . . .
For everything good you have people will come for it
Timi Sanni writes, "the more I saw my heroes the more ordinary they became"
Still be a hero but carry it with you that true heroes don't wear capes
Are you still here with me?
Love is a bent blade . . . it could cut what you want but it could also cut you and really deep when it
Still it is the most beautiful thing and like you know the sweetest things are often times the most
dangerous but still smile,
You can't distinguish salt water from sugar water without lapping your tongue against it
So, which do I now offer you?
Can you deduce . . .
The best things are the little things . . .
Not a million cars in your wake or a zillion accolades to your name but the smile of a mother
while preparing the meal you love the most, a father's clearing of throat after hearing you
whisper "I love you" across the room . . . The little things . . .
Make out time to breathe in the morning air and let the sun bask in your skin . . .
You need to go outside, even outside of your head because anything enclosed can kill you . . .
Music and poems and words and words and words and words . . .
You first, but you end where another begins
This is my psalm and my offering. And know this . . .
It will rain if you refuse to drink.