Month: March 2021

March 31st…

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ykQnj2dq2tY&feature=share

…😥

Letter to Him: Jesus, I give You these broken pieces.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=fiR18oC4eiI&feature=share

I was going to start this piece, and grew tired.

I am so tired.

Of, people:

Hiding:

Their:

Hurt.

Heart.

Broken pieces.

Broken, I decided to lay down. To, try to sleep. My twin, my wombie, keeps begging me, to sleep.

I have been up, for a full week, now.

I can’t:

Sleep.

Rest.

Eat.

The Father, is weeping.

Heaven, is sad.

King Jesus, will, soon, be put to rest. In order, to be, resurrected. In order, to resurrect, us.

The Father, is Relentless.

The Father, tired of people:

Hiding:

Their:

Hurt.

Heart.

Broken pieces.

Exhausted, I fell into bed. I began praying, for all of us. I prayed for God to help us. To help us, give Him, our pieces. Our broken hearts. To, Him. In order for Him to:

Bind, our wound.

Mend, our hearts.

Heal, our land.

I have a small bag of blue stones. I call them my ‘prayer stones’. I hold them. I think of people. I pray for them. Pray, and imagine each stone represents a piece, a broken heart. A, wounded, soul.

While, praying, while holding my ‘prayer stones’, my broken pieces, your broken pieces, I fell into a restless dream. This is what I saw:

There was a trial going on. A room, full of witnesses, all sharing their hearts, their stories, their struggles. They were telling them, to this judge. I could not see the judge. Only, the people. There were many. They were being filmed. They did not mind. In fact, they needed the cameras. They spoke directly to the cameras. Sharing their hearts, their thoughts.

Suddenly, the judge decided to have the cameras taken away. The witnesses, were distraught. I was, initially, dismayed. I grew very angry. This was unfair! So, very unfair! They had, the RIGHT, to be heard. They had, the absolute RIGHT, TO BE SEEN!

Dammit!

Angry, I jumped, over the rail, and entered the trial. I rushed, to the front, of the room. I confronted, the judge:

HOW, DARE YOU!

How, dare you, silence, these hearts, these voices. They, have the RIGHT, to speak, to be seen, to be heard. Let, them. Let them, speak!

I was:

Angry.

Heart-broken.

Devastated.

That, this callous judge, had deemed their voices unworthy of being broadcast for all the world to see, to hear, to empathize with, to care for.

Before, I had leapt, there was this one woman. She had turned to the cameras and said how sad she would be to see them go. She said she had needed them. She said, they had helped her. She needed to be seen. She needed to be heard. Her look was desperate.

Desperate, she made me. Leaping, to her defense, I confronted this unseen judge, this uncaring judge.

The judge demanded I be silenced. He called, for strong men, to come, to take me, away. The judge was, now, trying to silence me.

I am not having this! I began yelling, at the top of lungs:

You will NOT silence me!

You will NOT, silence, these!

I tried to evade the men. I ran around the room. Screaming. Raging. I would NOT BE SILENCED!

Finally, the men encircled me, closed their rank. Eventually, they were close enough, to grab me.

They grabbed each arm. They began to drag me away.

The sound of my own voice, shouting I would not be silenced, the silent looks/screams, of all the witnesses, are what shook me, awake.

I, despaired. Knowing, I could not force people, to speak. I could not make them, bring their broken hearts, their broken pieces, to Jesus. To, The Father. To, The Cross.

Yet, I could, pray for them. I could hold, ‘my prayer stones’, my pieces, their pieces. I could bring us all, in prayer. To, Jesus. To, The Cross:

Jesus, I give You, these broken pieces. I give You, my pieces. I can not, give You, the broken pieces, the broken hearts, of others. I give to You, my ‘prayer stones’, in their stead.

Lord, I ask, that You:

Bind, our wound.

Mend, our hearts.

Heal, our land.

We are, all of us:

Broken.

Hurting.

Tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

Lost, without You.

Decades ago, I gave You, my life. Today, I give You, my pieces. ALL of them. The ones I share with You, proudly. The ones, I share with You, with shame-filled eyes. Lord, I give You, me.

I am standing on God’s Word, on God’s CHARACTER, on God’s Deep and Abiding Love, for me.

I stand, before You, humbled by Your Grace, Your Love, Your Mercy.

I ask for, Your Justice. I ask for, Your Mercy.

Speak for me, King Jesus.

Speak, for them, Lord.

Speak, for us, us all.

NO man, NO judge, No authority, can shut Your Voice.

There is none, like You. There is none, who can, subdue You. There is none, beside You.

Bind, Mend, Heal, my broken pieces, their broken pieces. Speak, for us. Speak, with us. Speak, in us. Give us, the strength:

To, speak.

To, reach out.

To, love:

You.

Ourselves.

One, Another.

These things, I ask, in Your Precious, Awesome, Mighty Name.

Amen.

Yours Always,

Jaybird SHATTERED/RELENTLESS/LOVED

Letter to Him: Thank you, for Your Grace.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=hRGZCK01WXY&feature=share

Dear Dad,

I HAVE to begin, this way, Father, letting You know how very ‘dear’ You are, to me.

I love You. With ALL of my heart, mind, soul, and spirit.

I just wanted to, take just a moment, to let You know, how much I appreciate Your Grace and Your Unmerited Favor.

I need them, both, now. Grace, to walk these next days. Favor, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, my pieces, my broken pieces, will be able to reach others, reach THEIR broken pieces. In time, to get them, to The Cross. So, they can be healed. So, they can be made whole.

Jesus came. In order for us, to have life. And, that life, more abundantly. Yet, we live disjointed lives, shattered lives.

Lives, shattered, by our own words. Or, shattered, from the words of others. Jesus, came to bind the broken hearted.

Help me, Father. To reach them. If these words, my words, can be of ANY assistance to You, for You, to reach teach and heal but one soul. Oh that I had the cache, the cash to do so. I would.

What, would I say to them, You ask, if I had Your Microphone?

I would say these words:

Isaiah 61: 1-4: The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;

2 To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;

3 To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

I would end, with these words:

We are, all of us, broken:

By, circumstances.

By, our own hands.

By, the hands of others.

Yet, there IS good news:

We, are loved. We, are not, alone. We, are seen. We, are heard. God loves you.

God.

Loves.

YOU!

Let, Him.

Let, others.

Let, you.

Forgive, yourself.

Forgive, others.

We, are all, broken.

Hurt people. Hurt, people.

We have hurt, one another.

It is time. For, healing. It is time. For you to accept the Unmerited Favor of God’s Grace, His Love, for YOU.

That’s what I would say, Father, if given Your Microphone. In the meantime, I just wanted to say…

Thank you, for Your Grace.

I love you, Father. Thanks for loving me.

Your Daughter,

Cassandra

These pieces, called me.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=OD4tB1o6YLw&feature=share

My twin sister, calls my blog posts, Pieces.

Pieces.

I like this. Seems, fitting. Seems, dignified.

Only, I no longer, believe in, pieces. 

Real talk: I no longer, believe in, MY pieces.

I feel, broken, into, pieces.

A million, pieces, in fact, based upon, one moment.

ONE!

One moment, that caused me to:

Run, from:

Every, other:

Moment, to be:

Loved.

Seen.

Heard.

After THAT moment, 35 years ago, I no longer:

Trust:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

I, especially, don’t trust:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

I, no longer trust them:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

Trust, that I will:

Do, right by them.

I, no longer, believe:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

Will, do right by:

Me.

I, no longer, trust in:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

All, because of ONE moment, in time, 35 years ago.

A moment, I never moved passed.

Now, I can not, move forward, to make more, life-altering moments. I failed her, I feel, in THAT moment. I feel, that I failed, ME, in that moment.

One,moment, that took only but a moment to do, has caused me to run, from a lifetime, of other moments.

I, fear failing:

Myself.

Opportunity.

You.

Which, leads me, right back, to the question I have been asking, all week.

For, the last 35 years, really:

Father, WHAT, do I, DO? Now, that it’s time, and I am, now:

Naked?

Ashamed?

Just, not ready?

I find myself shattered, in a million pieces.

If ,you have been reading my pieces, you will have, hopefully, noticed these last pieces have been:

Disjointed:

In writing style.

Too many, commas, here.

Colons, out of place, there.

This, has, been, intentional.

We like things, in order. We like to read things, in a flow. Our brains need this logic.

I wanted to, needed to, jar you from thinking. Needed to get you:

FEELING.

While your brain was trying to figure out ‘what in the fresh hell’, I have been trying, to get you, to get your heart, to feel.

My heart, is in pieces.

Your heart, is in pieces.

This is fitting, as we are all:

God’s Pieces. We were all meant, to fit together.

We were called to live together. To, love together.

In harmony.

In love.

We can’t.

Because, we are, all of, us broken, in pieces.

Because of, this, reason.

Due to, that, person.

So, we fight.

One, another.

Break, each other.

Into, a million pieces.

Pieces, that, no longer:

Fit, together.

We, find ourselves, now, in a box, fighting one another.

Breaking each other, into a million divisive pieces.

We, are all, now, shattered.

Treating, each other, as if we really, don’t matter.

We are all, now, devastated.

Like a bomb, shattered.

Into, a million pieces.

All, from running, from moments.

Moments, where we:

Broke, the heart of another.

Moments, where:

Our hearts, were broken:

By, the heart of another.

Moments, where we chose:

Anger:

Over, reconciliation.

Pride over:

Friendship.

Love.

Fellowship.

Moments where we:

Walked away:

When we should have, stayed.

Stayed:

When, we should have, walked away.

I, have learned, that:

In standing, even when it has been:

Hard.

Exhausting.

Frustrating.

Embarrassing.

Your heart, can be shattered:

In, a million pieces.

Yet, your spirit, can be:

Free.

Content.

Hopeful.

Joyful.

Peaceful.

For, your spirit, now stands on the solid foundation of:

God’s Word.

God’s CHARACTER.

God’s Deep and Abiding Love, for you.

God loves us. Wants us whole. It is why, He pursues me, Relentlessly.

Why, I, in turn, pursue you relentlessly.

I want you, whole.

Free, to love:

You.

Others.

Life.

God.

Time grows short:

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=XvV9p-wU4hk&feature=share

If, you will, allow yourself, to see past, your own, broken pieces. And, allow yourself, to touch another soul’s, broken pieces. You, will begin, to heal your own, pieces.

You, connecting, with, me.

Me, connecting, with, you.

Broken, pieces, forming a new, piece.

A masterpiece.

God’s Masterpiece:

Mankind.

We are the world.

We are HIS World.

We are ONE.

I, no longer, believe, in these pieces, my pieces.

Nevertheless, God believes, in my pieces. He believes, in me. He loves, me.

However, I know my disbelief, is but from the broken pieces, that God is, even now, healing, in me.

Yikes!

Egads!

It is good to see you, both. I have need of you. The God, of This Universe, loves ME! Even, with my broken pieces. Yikes! Egads! Amazing!

Beloveds, time grows short. There are so many people, walking around, in pieces.

Feeling as if they, don’t matter. They DO, matter. Their lives, matter. Their lives, matter, to me. Your life, matters. Your life, matters, to me.

Even though, I have no earthly idea, if these pieces, MY pieces, my life, matters, to you. I offer, these pieces, my pieces, to you. In the hope that you will allow, God, to take, your pieces, and make you whole.

Praying for you til you are:

Home(with Dad, Life, Yikes!, and Egads!).

Healed.

Whole.

Cassandra

Letter to my friend: Our broken pieces.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ae2iX6vZCoM&feature=share

My friend,

Forgive, me. I couldn’t, see you, because, of my broken pieces. You couldn’t hear me, because of, your broken pieces. We burned down, our friendship, because of, our broken pieces.

I, walked away, in a pique of anger, because of, my broken pieces. You allowed me, to walk away, because of your broken pieces.

I, allowed anger, fear, doubt (insert whatever you like here) to consume me, consume the understanding, the love, and the care, between us. I chose my anger, my hurt, MY pain. Over, you. Over, your hurt/pain.

If, you were not hurt, in pain, you would have NEVER allowed me to walk away. You would have NEVER allowed, the silence, to stretch into an eternity.

I’m sorry, my friend. I love you, and I am sorry.

I, can never erase, that moment. So, here I am, here I make my stand, trying, to make another moment. One, where we can begin, again.

A moment, where, we can move forward. Not, back, reliving, rekindling, the heat of that moment.

I CHOOSE, to let go, of THAT moment. The moment, that changed everything, between us.

I choose, to let go, in order to create, THIS moment. The moment, that can change everything, between us.

I, forgive you. For not:

Seeing, me.

Hearing, me.

Believing, in me.

Recieving, me.

For, I also did not see, hear, believe or receive you.

If I had, I, would have seen, your broken pieces. I, would have loved you, instead of pushing you away.

I, could not see your broken pieces. I could not see past my own.

I, see YOU, now. I, see ME, now: Two broken pieces, in a fallen world.

Let us, begin, again.

Let us, mend, again.

Let us, care for one another, again.

If not, as friends, at least as two comrades, who have previously walked a special path.

Let us walk, a new path, in a new way. Let us, CHOOSE, to look upon, one another, as pieces, beautifully made. Flawed, yet, beautiful.

I will ALWAYS love you, and care, for your life.

I will, be here, for you, should you choose to return.

Should you, continue, on your way, I shall ever, remain:

Your friend.

Your supporter.

Your protector.

Your confidante.

Your cheerleader.

Your biggest fan.

Should, you return, and see that I am gone. Fear, not. I have taken, my broken pieces. I have taken, your broken pieces. I have taken, them all, to Dad. For, healing.

I SHALL, return, for you, my friend.

As, Jesus, returns, to us, time and again. EVERY time, we:

Dismiss, Him.

Refuse, Him.

Refuse, to:

Love, Him.

He loves us, still. Because of, His Amazing Grace, bestowed upon us.

I, extend grace to you. To accept, if you choose. To refuse, if you choose. To return, if you choose.

Whatever, your choice, my love, my care, for you, shall ever remain.

Be well, my friend. I forgive you. I forgive me. For not realizing the miracle, called our friendship.

I, shall endeavor, to NEVER allow past moments, to come between, me and new life-changing moments. I, pray that you do the same.

All my love,

Cassandra

P.S. It is my fervent hope that EVERY heart reads these words and CHOOSE, to return, to his/her/they moment. Return, forgive yourself. Forgive, your friend/foe/lover/family. CHOOSE them, NOT your anger, hurt(insert whatever words you feel here).

Life, is so very short. We are running out of:

Time.

Moments.

Use yours, wisely.

THIS time.

In THIS moment.

STOP reliving, past moments. We can do nothing about them, now.

Now, forgive yourself. Get on with it.

Go!

Free, you.

Free, them.

Go…NOW!

I love you.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=rEp3-ATdJCQ&feature=share

Nuff said.

Hang in there. We got this. Love someone. LET someone love you.

Jaybird

Real talk: Take your nerves/fear WITH you.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=mGd6MvgGKGY&feature=share

Real talk: Today, has ALREADY been hard.

Nevertheless, I got this. For, God, Life, Yikes! and Egads!, ALL have me.

I start the actual work for my new job. My old one, one I had worked towards, for more than a decade, was suddenly, taken.

So, am starting, again, at 52, in a job I:

Know nothing about.

Never, asked for.

Is not, of my choosing.

Wish, I could end, before even starting.

My nerves, are completely:

Shot.

Frayed.

Asking, “What in the fresh hell!?”

Nevertheless, I stand.

However, I am grateful, for:

The opportunity to:

Grow.

Fail.

Fall.

Laugh.

Love.

Give.

Receive.

I told my nerves, you are going to work, with me, today.

You don’t run this show!

GOD, runs this.

God, has got this!

God, has got me.

I am going to:

Live.

Love.

Laugh

Give.

Receive.

Do your worst, nerves, but you fixin’ to go to work, with me, not back to bed.

Don’t let the enemy see you sweat. Tell him to kick some rocks, then keep it moving!

Letter to My Father: I look to You.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=5Pze_mdbOK8&feature=share

Father,

Here I am. Again. Always.

Standing. Afraid, of, today. Afraid, of my moment.

Nevertheless, I am here.

However, I need You:

Your Word.

Your CHARACTER.

Your Deep and Abiding Love, for me.

Father, I’m afraid. Of, failing, You, today. Of, failing, me, yet again.

Nevertheless, I am, here, still.

However, I remain:

Relentless.

Vigilant.

Persistent.

Hungry.

Hopeful.

Joyful.

Be much with me, Dad. Hold:

My heart.

My hand.

My hopes.

My fears:

I love You. Just want You to KNOW that I love YOU. Yes, I am grateful for Your Protection, for all You have done, and for all You will do.

That said, You are My Everything. I must be about Your work. I love working, alongside you. Yet, I grow sad, EVERY time I must leave You and Life, to get on with my job.

I look to You, Father. Not, because of, my fears. But, because of, my FAITH:

In:

Your, Love.

Your, Faithfulness.

Your, Eternal Devotion.

Your, Relentless Love.

Your, Forever Optimism.

Your, Unfathomable Grace.

Your, Unmerited Favor.

Your, All-Encompassing Comfort.

All these things, freely extended, from Your Hands, to my heart.

Amazing!

Yikes!

Egads!

Yikes and Egads, are as amazed, as me…*smile*.

Before, this day, envelopes me in whatever, this day, may bring, I just wanted to, take just a moment, before, facing my moment, to tell You:

I, look to You.

I, love You.

I, will miss You.

See You, after work.

Your Proud Daughter,

Cassandra

More than a Just.

Yall are going to have to excuse me, today.

Yea, yea, I am standing: defiant, angry.

Nevertheless, I stand.

However, I am angry, about it, today.

I, don’t want to be, writing, today.

I, don’t want to be, inspiring, today.

I, just want to be, angry, today.

Check that…*sigh*

I don’t want to, BE, today.

However, Jaybird says ‘Folks are hurting’, today. They must be tended to.

🤬 folks, is all I want to, say, today.

Which, brings me back, to today’s inspiring message, about JUST.

I just don’t want to, give it, today.

I just, don’t want to, give, today.

Not, today. I am, angry. 😡

I will get to, why, in just a moment.

I gotta talk about ‘Just’.

If, you are smart, by now, you will have just realized, something, just now.

I have, been playing around, sarcastically, with the word ‘Just ‘.

Why?

Just because I can. 🤬🤷‍♀️

See? Sarcasm, can have it’s uses. Just kidding.

I know. I know! 🤬💣

You are confused.

You have no idea:

Why I am ranting about ‘Just’.

Why, I am just, so damned, angry, today.

*Cassandra wonders if anyone has caught on to the emphasis on the word ‘damned’, just then.*

*Cassandra wonders if anyone gives a damn to knows she has now just foreshadowed coming events by pointing out the damned word ‘damned’ which is just but a damned foreshadowing she is about to talk about something hard today when she just does not want to, today! She is too damned angry, today!😡😥*.

Shit! I don’t swear! I am just, so angry, about having to write about ‘Just’…I could just…🧨…

Yikes!: Just, what? May help folk understand, why you are so angry, today.

Me: I just, want to, scream, today. I just, want to cuss a blue streak, today.

Egads!: Why don’t you? Scream? Swear? Why, do you, want to, need to, so badly, today?

Me: For starters, I don’t want to wake the neighborhood hollering. Secondly, it would not be considered womanly, godly, or any other ‘ly to be cussing a blue streak, in the dark. Pajamas, notwithstanding.

A Dance Party, in undies, appears to be acceptable. Am not certain Sarah, or The Host, would understand.

I just, reposted ‘Dancing in my underwear’ for folks who either:

Did not, give two hoots, the first time.

Could not, give two damns, about them, now.

They are just, my words. Words, coming from, just, me. Big waste of time, I keep, trying, to tell God, to tell Life.

Yikes!: Dammit! Stop talking, about your words, that way! STOP talking, about YOU, that way! You KNOW how powerful words are. Either, get to cussing, or shut your face!

Egads!: You have ME mad, now! 🤬

Either, BE, angry.

Tell us, tell them, why you, are just, so angry, today, or shut the fuck up!

*Cassandra grabs her wallet, a hundred dollar bill, crams it in the ‘Nickel cuss jar’ and prepares for a good cussfest. Cassandra invites all angry folk to join. Doesn’t matter the why. If you are angry feel free to join the cussfest so we can get beyond our mad and get on with ‘Just’*

*Cassandra is grateful her anger is internal, today. She is forever grateful she can go off, fully, in this virtual world, with real folks. She can tear up some shit. She can fuck up some virtual enemies.*

*Cassandra goes on a virtual mad and starts tearing up some shit, trashing all of that.*

Dammit!🤬

Dammit!😥

Dammit! *sigh*.

The Father enters: Talk to Me. Talk to us.

Me: I am, standing, today. ONLY, because I have to stand, always.

Nevertheless and however, I just don’t want to, give a damn. At least, I just don’t want to, today.

Father: Why?

Me; For starters, I am angry that I have to be writing, AT ALL. Today. Tomorrow. The next day.

All of those, days, leads to D Day. Thursday. HER day. The LAST day, I want to, think about, write about, live out.

Dammit. Damn, her. Damn, me.

I am just, not, ready, to deal with this, with her, with me. Not, today.

Father: Why?

Me: We fight, this same fight, every year. Normally, You leave me be. Not now. You tell me, it’s time. To deal, with, me. To deal, with her. I am not, ready. Not, today.

Father: Will you ever? Be ready, I mean? You have gone around this mountain for the last 35 years. Is it not time? To deal with her? To deal with you? To deal with that moment? Look around you.

You have utterly destroyed your virtual home. Your internal anger regarding her, regarding you, regarding April 1st and your choice, leading up to that day is eating you alive, inside.

Your internal anger, will soon turn outward. You will, soon, start ‘tearing up some things’, in the natural, if you are not careful.

Talk to, My People. Not as, Jaybird. They need to hear from you, Cassandra. They need to hear of your moment. For, they have their own moment. They have their own Jaybird. They keep her in lockdown.

Talk to them, My Beloved Daughter. Let them know their internal anger, hurt, rage, shame will soon turn outward. Once released, they will surely burn down, their world:

With words, spoken.

With words, not spoken.

With actions, taken.

With actions, not taken.

They may burn down, the worlds of others:

With words, spoken.

With words, not spoken.

With actions, taken.

With actions, not taken.

It is time, Dear One.

Even I, Your Heavenly Father, can no longer bear to see you hurt so.

To see you so angry:

With, Me.

With, her.

With, Life.

With, you.

I want, to heal, your heart.

I want, to release you, from your moment.

I want, to heal, My Children’s hearts.

You can no longer bear the weight.

This is why, I am, here, for you, now.

I want to release them, from their moment.

I can not. Until, you release all, to Me.

This is why, Jesus, died upon a Cross:

To bear the sins, of the world.

To bear the burdens, of the world.

To bear the unbearable moments, of the world.

Talk to, them.

Me: I will.

April 1st is coming. An, ironic day.

A, fitting day.

A day, where folk run around, lyin’, then say ‘I was only kidding’.

On a side note, I find it, quite off putting, folks seem to, think it’s cute:

To be running around, lying, then saying ‘ha ha’.

Then, running off to, fake tell the truth, to someone else.

You, have to be on your toes, ALL damned April 1st:

Wondering, who has lying, eyes.

Wondering:

Who, will be lying.

Who, will be telling the truth.

Who, the ‘joke’, will be on, that day.

I think April Fool’s Day, is just life’s sarcasm, for us. It’s way, of saying:

Yall live like this, secretly, EVERY day:

Lying to folk, about, how you, really feel, or don’t feel.

Trying, to hide, the lie:

About how:

You are currently:

Feeling, or not feeling.

Wondering, if:

The person, talking to you:

Is:

Lying to you:

Currently.

Or, if they have been:

Lying, in the past.

Lying, all along.

You engage:

In:

Polite, conversations.

Dismissive, conversations.

Dishonest, conversations.

Empty, conversations.

ALL, day.

You, escape:

The day. Successful:

In:

All the lies, you have told, just to:

Escape the day.

Lies:

About, being okay.

You are not:

Okay, most days.

This, is why, Jaybird is:

In constant uproar mode.

She is:

TIRED/ANGRY of people:

Running around, with their damned, ‘everything is ok’ masks.

God and Life, are also TIRED/ANGRY.

Neither God, nor Life, are a bit interested:

In:

Our excuses:

For, hiding.

God and Life, just don’t care, for, our excuses. For, our hiding.

God and Life, are just tired:

Of folks lying:

To, others.

They are not, okay.

To, themselves.

They, are not, okay.

I want:

Not:

To have to, care.

Not today.

I am, just too angry.

With her.

With me.

With God and Life:

For asking:

No, demanding that I:

Deal, with her.

Deal, with me.

Deal, with THAT moment.

It’s time, They say.

I’m not ready, I fire back.

Your words are needed, today. We need you.

They are just words, I say. MY words. Who gives the first damned about them, anyway? What possible use could MY words mean to anyone, on ANY day? If, I am lucky, I may or may not get a ❤ emoji.

I was arguing, with a friend, about not wanting to be here, writing these words, to anyone, let alone, me. They are just words, I told him. More, importantly, they are just MY words.

He said:

They must:

Go viral. People NEED:

My words.

MY words.

Of COURSE, they do. But, who the fuck am I?!

I am:

Getting old.

Weary.

Ill.

I am deathly tired, of folks hiding their:

Hurt.

Pain.

Shame.

Anger.

Fear.

Regret.

Loneliness.

On and on, I could go.

I grow angrier, daily, watching people, live their lives, in hiding.

They, are NOT, living life.

They, are surviving it.

Trying, desperately, to survive,

With their heart, in one piece.

They, are only:

Breaking, their own heart, which has been:

Desperate:

To be:

Seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Respected.

How CAN, the heart, be loved?

When people, are forever, hiding them?

The heart, can’t be loved, this way.

So, people, run around, desperately hiding:

From, God.

From, life.

From, themselves.

Mostly, they hide, from themselves. They are filled with too much hurt.

Which is why, God and Life, says I have to, keep caring.

I just have to. Folks are in pain.

They are in need.

They are hiding.

They are hurting.

They, are bleeding, slow deaths, among one another.

As am I, on these last days, ushering in:

April fools day.

D day.

Her day.

Which is why:

I just don’t want to:

Be here, with you, on these days.

I need to, hide, on these days.

From me, I hide.

I tell God. I tell Life. They are just, words. My, words. God and Life, answer back:

There is NOTHING ‘Just’ about, my words.

God and Life, are angry, now:

At me,

At you. For:

Believing:

The awful lie, we are ‘just’ anything.

Just implies there is little importance, to something/someone:

It’s just a small thing.

It’s just a flesh wound.

It’s just, so and so:

Calling.

Texting.

Emailing.

Reaching out.

Asking for love.

Asking to be touched.

Asking to:

Be listened to.

Held.

Made love to.

Looked at.

Cherished.

Adored.

Laughed with.

Loved by.

Hugged by.

Made love with.

Just, is just, such a dismissive word. It flicks one off as lint.

Something or someone to be dismissed: His text. Her email.

Depending on the perceived, ‘importance’, of the person:

The text/email/call will be:

Answered.

Dismissed.

It’s just:

Another:

Text message.

Post.

Email:

From so and so. Apparently, so and so, does not rise to the level of:

Common, courtesy.

Common, decency.

Common, empathy.

It appears, people just don’t have time, for such things.

They have to spend, their days, angry, protecting Bugs Bunny and Yosemite Sam.

Tell innocent children, at the border, to kick rocks.

Yikes, seems I have spilled a rant, from a soon to be posted one…sorry…

I don’t know, when it became socially acceptable, to be so dismissive, towards, one another.

People used to care enough, to say, they were, too busy, to talk. Now, they toss, a smiley.

If, they respond, at all.

The person, on the other end, of the text, or phone, had a need.

The, unanswered texts, hurt. So, they lie:

To, themselves. Saying, it doesn’t matter that:

He or she, was too busy to:

Respond.

Write.

Call.

I am kicking my own hind end, on that one.

Shame, on me, for not, picking up, the phone.

Someone, had a need.

I should have given, too hoots, about them.

Shame, on me:

for using:

fatigue,

busyness.

To not:

Answer the phone,

Text.

Email.

Respond, to the post.

I am, sorry. Truly.

We, are simply, too damned busy, these days.

Too busy, to take five minutes.

To give a good damn, about anyone, not moving OUR lives, forward.

What happened, to us just CARING, for one another?

Why, are we not:

Calling.

Texting.

Writing.

Just, to let someone know:

They are, cared for.

They are, valued.

They are, loved.

Their voice, matters.

Their hearts, matters.

THEY, matter.

We are, all, too damned busy, in my opinion. Who gives, two figs, right?

Which brings me, back to being, ‘just’ this or ‘just’ that.

We, are not, ‘just’ anything. Not, to God. We, are precious, in His sight. It’s why, His heart, has grieved so, lately.

The bible says we are MORE than conquerors. Yet, we don’t even feel, equal to, half the time.

Most, feel as if, they, are ‘greater than’ this one. Others, feel as though, they are ‘less than’.

Real talk, the ones feeling, ‘greater than’, are actually feeling, the ‘least as’.

It’s why, they fight so, to put the ‘lesser than’ label on the other person.

They, are actually, putting the ‘lesser than’ label, on themselves, as they feel like a ‘less than’.

Only, they have to lie:

To the world.

To themselves.

About, how they truly feel, about, themselves.

They, have been sold a bill of goods. We all have.

Told:

We have to:

Be this.

Do this.

Have that.

To:

Have worth.

To matter.

To be listened to.

Only, those who ‘have’ have:

The right to:

Be:

Heard.

Loved.

Listened to.

Respected.

Valued.

Seen.

Cherished.

So, we, all of us, are desperately, trying:

To have:

In order:

To be:

Seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Respected.

Where, does this leave us, who don’t appear, to have?

Are we, never then:

Heard?

Seen?

Loved?

Respected?

On the treadmill, we jump.

Trying:

To earn:

The right:

To be:

Seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Respected.

Until then, we do the next best thing:

Survive life.

Slapping, the ‘just’ label on ourselves. Apologizing:

To:

The world.

Each other.

Ourselves.

For, not having ‘just’ yet.

We are, now:

‘just’ this

Or being ‘just’ that.

Until, we have reached, enough:

Likes.

Stats.

Or, whatever the hell one must have:

In order:

To:

Be:

Seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Respected.

Appears, only a select few, are accepted, in 240 characters or less.

The rest are ‘considered’, judged and deemed, worthy, of a response.

Or, are given, the standard, I don’t have time for you emoji.

Don’t even get me going on 240 characters! People, seem to think:

They:

Can.

Should:

Have things:

Without:

Real:

Effort.

Time.

Emotions.

Life is, just not that way.

The heart, needs, time.

The heart, needs, care.

The heart, needs, to be loved.

The heart, needs, to be listened to.

The heart:

Needs:

To be able:

To say:

I, am not ok, today.

Yet, eyes roll, when someone says:

I am, not ok.

Most:

Don’t want:

To be bothered:

With:

Another’s hurt.

Our own, hurt.

We are too:

Busy.

Angry.

Depressed.

Frustrated.

To:

Deal with someone else’ pain.

So, we dismiss, them.

The, hurting person, then:

Has to:

Dismiss, their hurt.

Don, the ‘I am ok’ mask.

And, keep it moving.

We have all, pissed God off, to high heaven, dismissing each other’s pain.

Dismissing, and downgrading, our words, our thoughts, our hurt.

It’s why this world, is in such a damned mess.

We have all, contributed to the current, ‘I don’t give a damn’, mess.

Now, everyone wants to:

Turn away:

From:

The:

Divisiveness.

Anger.

Violence.

Ambivalence, people have towards, one another.

In times past:

Everyone:

Came together:

In times, of:

Disaster.

Hunger.

Pandemic.

War.

Disease.

Violence.

Hate crimes.

Poverty.

We came together, as ONE.

Knowing:

As one suffered.

We ALL suffered.

Neighbor, helped neighbor.

No one cared, if you:

Were this.

Had that.

ALL, we saw:

Was:

The need.

And met:

The need.

We used to:

Be there:

For, one another.

Best we could.

Only, during an emergency, of course.

Now, everyone is divided about everything.

People, are too hurt:

To, care much.

To, want to do, much.

What can he/she/they do?

We have not yet

Earned:

Enough cache:

To be:

Seen.

Heard.

Loved.

Respected.

So, we do the next best thing:

Dismiss:

Ourselves.

Our, words.

Our, hopes.

Our, dreams.

From:

The game.

Who, gives a good damn, anyway?

It’s, just me.

They, are ‘just’, MY words.

God: Enough! You shall NOT dismiss, so easily, the life I created.

Jesus: Enough! You shall NOT dismiss, so easily, the life I gave My Life for.

Life: Enough! You shall NOT dismiss, so easily, the life I fight to live for every day.

Yikes!: Yikes!

Egads!: Yikes!!

We have all royally ticked off God, Life, and Jaybird:

With our:

Hiding.

Lying.

Running:

From:

Our hurt.

From, ourselves.

From, one another.

Normally, I would be all about it.

Nevertheless, I am angry, today.

However, I just don’t want to care, today.

However, folks are hurting.

Nevertheless, I am hurting.

God says it’s time:

To deal with things.

To deal with me.

I am not ready…*sigh*.

I am not the only one:

Arguing:

With God.

With Life.

With yourself.

About:

Not being able, to deal with:

An, old issue.

A, decades old, issue.

A, life long, issue.

I am angry, still.

I am, tired:

Of, carrying anger around, every damned April 1st.

Tired, of having to work so hard:

To ignore her.

To ignore me.

I don’t want to:

Deal with her.

Deal with me.

Deal with that.

I am, angry, still.

Yet, I know:

There are:

Many, who are:

Struggling, with:

The, same issue:

Eternally, stuck at:

A, moment.

A, decision.

A, situation.

That, altered, everything:

Forever.

FOREVER!

Dammit.

We have no earthly idea:

What to do.

We ALL have, that:

ONE moment that:

Changed, everything.

Changed, us.

One moment, that:

Made us.

Broke, us.

My moment has ALWAYS led me back to April 1st.

April Fool’s Day.

Ironic.

Fitting, somehow.

Only, the joke was on me.

The joke WAS me.

Which is why, I know God and Life are right:

Its time.

To deal:

with her.

To deal

with me.

I am just not ready.

I declare uncle.

I shall deal with me.

This has been 35 years in the making.

I shall deal with her. I shall deal with me.

I suggest you:

Get, ready:

To, get ready:

To deal:

With your own moment:

The instant:

You:

Became, another you.

Because, of:

Something, you.

Did.

Did, not do.

From:

Something, you:

Said.

Did, not say.

From, someplace:

You should have, gone to.

Somewhere, you had no place, in going.

We all have, our moment.

April 1st, is my moment.

A moment, I:

Run, from.

Fight, with.

Deny.

Enough, running.

It is, enough.

I run, today, into My Father’s Arms.

I deal with me, today.

Brb…maybe…I think.

considering my return or lack thereof,

Cassandra 💔😡😥

Letter to Father: Help.

Father,

Father. 😥

Help. 💔

Cassandra