Until the next "for real" time

 

 

For every lack of human response

there is an angel whispering into your ear, 

or a flower beaming to you her light, 

or a cat meowing to you from your front garden

These days are days of INTENSE light and SHIFT. 

 

We are allowing it in.

Do not take human behaviour to heart, 

canim.

Look for the divine spark, 

and stay away from that which could harm you.

For the time for suffering is at an end, 

and the time for healing has truly commenced.

We all are experiencing our redemption, 

for years lost, and tears shed, and freedoms cut short.

The Light side always has the best cookies, 

it is just sometimes they taste like rice cakes!

For every human that does not respond to your love, pleas or wisdom, 

understand that there is a child there who wasn't cared for, 

and so he or she forgot how to grow up.

We will go through this until it stops.

It gets easier: 

have trust, 

do what needs to be done, 

experience the things you couldn't before, 

or that which you had to let go of due to constraints.

We must understand our true worth and, 

also, 

the worth of everyone else.

The craziness will end in divine order and timing

We snakes are shedding our skins for real this time. 

 

Until the next "for real" time.

 

 

29 May 2017

dew to the mangled heart

dew to the mangled heart

We none of us have the answers
Which are wrapped up in vulnerable layers
Of pain and remembrance
In each individual soul.

Sometimes, we bless ourselves with
A chance meeting in a crystal shop
Or stable, surrounded by beauty and
Angels, dropping pearls of wisdom into
One's ever grateful heart
(that's not a euphemism for answering
The call of nature, by the way).

We get a wink and a nudge,
Maybe a block of homemade fudge
And are wrapped up warm and
Sent on our way.

I don't have a desire to see ghosts,
Spirits, entities
The lovers and friends from the past
Do enough of their entrancing dance
Inside of my head and soul
Until I whimper for God's grace
To clot my bleeding heart.

We show each other our own light
Uniquely similar
We reflect their lights to them,
Some receive, others balk and
Dishonour the contracts.

When you drop your treasured green
Shamanic pi-stone and it divides
Into four equal pieces
And your personality has matured
So you let it go...

You are most likely ready to let go of
The ghosties and ghoulies invading your space.
It's time to go, fellas.
Every single one of you.

"Come, come.
Even though you have broken
Your vow a thousand times,
Still come."

Those words of a humble poet
Bring back the dew to the mangled heart
Of a Beloved.
One whose heart, mind and soul
Still lack the tranquility she craves.



Yet it is easily bestowed upon others.

~ Sukaina Juma
25.09.2015

We begin again...

When everything leaves
when everyone leaves:

is it then you realise the energy
you invested in another
was better invested in yourself?

And you drag yourself up
to make another cup of tea
that you will forget yet again on the counter
and drink in the lukewarm contents
hours after you first brewed it

Whilst your soul brothers and sisters
Let go of all worldly pleasures for the day
To focus upon their Lord

And yet your adrenals won't allow you this.

The major solstice has passed me by yet another year.

The body was a wreck
The friends left, one by one

And I am here,
With my thoughts

It is best
To pull myself out of these thoughts
And act

Any energy invested back in me
Is energy invested back in me

When this soul learns that no one really needs her
Yet she still must help without any signature
And perfecting the fine art of balance
Of being there for herself
And being kind to another

She will have learned yet another thing

Only for someone who is wiser than her
To smash that reality

bringing her back
to her original state

of utter mess

and

c
  o

   n
     f
       u
          s
              i
                 o
                       n



Let go of the self importance
Come back to yourself

There is no delineation
Between the truth and the fiction
All this while you sought in others

And all this while the others were as confused,
and as grasping and as disingenuous as you yourself

The pain is real and needed
The missed opportunities allow you the acceptance of youself
That no other will ever give you

But do not harden your heart again, little one.
Open it up more

And then God will speak t you through it somehow.

There are too many words flying around the earth these days

We command silence for fifteen days, to reset your balance
To cleans all the old unfinished business

You are correct.

you weren't sent here to agonise about the demarcations between
a twin flame,
a twin soul,
a soul mate....

not to go through clearing after clearing of the same man
whose brown eyes sear into your soul

Do you barter your worth for all of this
fluff?

You gave yourself away,
prostituted your soul
to father, mother
sister, brother,
lover,
the animals,
the politicians,
whose words and rhetoric grate
against your ears

You also gave it all away to your
gurus

And that was the deepest of pains,
The most knowledgeable of all learnings
 Is to realise the truth of Ali
when he said that to feel both superior
and inferior is harmful for the soul.

When one feels inferior,
they cannot create.
People use them,
the ones who see their value.
And you also ended up using others
as you have in other
existences.

And all of it collapses upon itself.

We begin again.

Yes.

- Sukaina Juma
22/06//2016

I burn with the love that I lost/ When I lost you

I can't remember if I posted this earlier on. I went through a phase in winter of watching as many Beverly Hills 90210 episodes I could, mostly the ones with Brenda and Dylan in them. I find those scenes the most fulfilling to me.


In Season 3, Dylan reads this poem out, with Brenda in his heart... :)


With you, the earth was a bed of grass
We slept in it like two seeds
With you, I was more than I am
Your mouth, the sun
Made everything possible
I burn with the love that I lost
When I lost you


~ Jack Grapes

Streams of Consciousness

Streams of consciousness

by Sukaina Juma
20 November  2011

***

Streams of consciousness
to focus the thoughts

Oh, but I'm better off
not having any thoughts

Oh, there's another one!
It's the same thought I had last year
Again?
Yes, again

Streams of tears that fall down
the delicate cheeks of
each of my friends
at different times, alternate realities
and situations

Do I love those less who do not
or can not show me
their tears?

Leaking again, I am
and does it matter?
How is it I can allow others to be
and not myself?
Another day ends
and the tears are dammed
The flow is stopped

The trust dissipates
Yet I know there is no trust
except Thine!


Streams of beautiful golden and pink
and emerald green fountains
wash away my Self
wash away all selves
from my sacred space that is

And yet
they all rush back
to show me to myself in another dark, shadowy form
I wish not to face

And face it I must

I travel, oh how I travel long distances
to belong to that which I thought I belonged to...

And I see a prism,
characters and personalities,
using language and communicating nothing
from the heart.

And, so, I look like them
And I almost sound like them
And they look at me and know that
I do not belong
As I know all too well.

So what happens then?

where do the lost souls gather?
where do the lost souls find solace?
when their only soul connection
is with the Divine
and that is a myth, that is Real and True
yet intangible.

One cannot belong to God.
Can I belong to Him?
Certainly not to the God
they still
ordain
as my Lord.

And the all-encompassing Creator
I want to believe exists
Is a stranger, or is too loving for me to accept!


Fascinating!

I want unconditional acceptance
and love from my equals
of denser flesh.

And when I am shown that
He that is All
is the only one who would
ever carry the capacity to do so...

I balk.
I defend.
I reject.

Surely God cannot love me all the time,
in all states and all conditions!

Such a God cannot exist,
such a God,
any God
cannot exist!

But my fellow creatures,
with the same talents and limitations as myself
surely can
give me that which I seek...

And when they decry otherwise,
I ask again from he
who has nothing in his cup
to give me

C'est absolument fascinant!

And I, the humble healer,
Am I still the vessel when my cup is empty?
Am I still the channel
when the slightest thing can
lift me out of my body and make for unreal experiences?

Am I still lovable
when everyone rejects me
for who I am or what I do
or just because they can?

Ahhhh!

They do it because they can!

And anything other than
forgiveness and acceptance and love
is repeating the cycle
and enduring the suffering.

Have I woken myself up
only to go back to sleep?

Because awareness is futile,
uncommon,
turns me into smoke without direction,
a heart without healing,
an actor without a Soul,
a being without Beingness.

Shall I ever make sense?
Do I want to make sense?

Or do I secretly enjoy
speaking deep truths in
all contexts, in order
to watch them watch me
as though I
do not understand
and am not understood?

Flow, ebb.
Ebbing away...

This life is ebbing away...
My time is still precious,
even if my life no longer is.


My heart still seeks to speak out, to be heard
even if my voice decides to hide
because it is unsafe to be spoken.
Yet.

I don't know
what the message is,
anyway.

So why would I say anything if I didn't know?
We have enough of those well-meaning
speakers out there...

There is enough mayhem!

Compassion over judgement.

I shall not judge this litany
that probably cannot
be considered a great work.

At least I feel open now.

Unburdened.

Chuck, chuck, chuck it all out...

If we are all connected on a intensely deep
level
and on a infinitely high
level,
why do I disconnect
or encourage others to do so?

How is it there is either no one here?
Or that they are here,
and I choose to disappear?

Ca ne fait pas du sense!

When is one ready to let go?
Let go of the ideas that
we are helpless and small

and embrace that everything is perfect?

All came down out of choice.
All remain out of choice.

Breathe, breathe,
for crying out loud,
please breathe...
my little one.

It all goes back to the breath.

Someone told me, a dear person,
that it will get better tomorrow:
it always does.

I hope your tomorrow has come,
because I still await mine.

Balance.

Balancing the emotional upheavals.

And the rejection with acceptance,
And the self-sabotage with compassion,
And the arrogance with the realisation that
a person can be connected to the source
and still mock a people for believing in
healing.

And all of this is just to show

This is all stuff and substance...

I am connected to Thee at all times
Even when their words and their beliefs
unground me.

When I feel invaded.

Thou art always there.

And on the occasions when I
disbelieve
That means I am one step closer
to believing.

I may actually suffer the worst
and end my last breath by not believing.

And yet, Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth
and that everything is unfurling perfectly.

And funnily enough,
that is all it is.

It is all that is needed

Thou Knowest that Thou Existeth

Bring me back towards that which
eludes me.

Or to that which I defer.

The spirit is willing, oh so willing.
But the flesh is weak.

I defer to Thee
My Lord, my Life, my Light.

I end in silence
gratitude for these senseless words
that override the senseless
violence
ravaging my soul
yet again.

She Falters, thy Phoenix

I falter,
I fail to trust this as my new truth.

Dost Thou loveth me so much?
Dost Thou Giveth to me such honour,

that which Thou hast bestowed upon
the brilliant sun and
the mystical moon?

The whispering wind,
the gentle mist,
the cleansing rain,
the transmuting fire?

Thou hast honoured me
by picking apart the threads of
my intricate plans.

I fell
I had to fall
I had to feel Your lack
so as to discover You anew
and to recognise You as

Real,
Infinite,
Love.

Not as the facade I had created.

I
  am
       still
             fall
                  ing
and
       I
          know
                   that
the
      earth
               has
                     been

absolved
               from
                       breaking
                                     my

fall.

If I do not acknowledge and

display

the beautiful plumage Thou hast bestowed
upon me,

If I do not shake these wings o' mine to ascend
or spread them around
Your loved ones
to shelter,
nurture,
protect,

Love,

Thou shalt not mind, Thou shalt leave me be

And replace me with another
who shall love Thee and
She shall rise and soar to Thy bidding

whilst I fretfully pluck
at my wasting plumage,
ne'er to be seen,
in shame and regret.

~ Sukaina Juma
15 October 2011

Irretrievable, Lost

Where to has their Spirit flown?
Why does the blankness behind their eyes afrighten me so?

Is it because I placed them above me as my gods?

And now, when I have toppled them and
hacked them to pieces,
in an attempt to excavate their core,
their putrid carcasses remind me of my folly?

I am bereft,
bereft.

I am afeared,
afeared of all those moments
lost into the nothingness.

I desperately seek them out.

I wish to reclaim those precious pearls;
those granules of Time I can now put to better use.

I call out to them, begging You for reprieve.
For redemption.

For a miracle through which I can reclaim
those scattered parts of my Soul,

a spare sliver, an empty husk
of the life-term of any of Your creatures,
to add unto mine,

that which was casually bled in vain.

Unaware,
asleep and entirely void
of God-consciousness.

But Thou Knowest, as doth I

All of that is lost, fore'er more
And that there is infinite wisdom behind this.

The remnants of my being crumble
into the dust that I came from.

I surrender to Thy will.

~ Sukaina Juma
15th October 2011

Deity

And as my Soul dug into the grass, hiding away from the joys of the world
and burrowing itself deeply into the grains of mud;
I could see the sky as the light faded.
The blueness of sky, the whiteness of cloud, the pink of sun
No tears trickled down these cheeks of mine
I wasn't moved by the sight.

But I was grateful that I did not have control over the entire universe.

For He is able to create each day anew, while us hypocrites are left to
play around with His original idea,
and present it to the world with a different slant or angle
in order to make it ours.

I was grateful that I had no control over this black Labrador of mine,
whom I've decided to call Barney,
so as to make him seem ridiculous.

For if I were to control the vitality and the demise
of life and love and contentment,
I would never fall down so very, very deep
that my nails would peel off and bloody my fingers
as I tried without success to scrape myself back into the world of the Surviving.

My chin would never be attracted to that little dent in my neck;
I would not be so meek, that I could longer look anyone in the eye.

I would never know the satisfaction and freedom I get
from completely losing touch with reality,

Which allows me to chop off chunks of my straw-like hair whenever I wish;

Which allows me to talk to myself as I walk along the street,
even when I know someone is behind me
and is tripping on the marbles that fall through my skull,
which make a plonking sound as they fall onto the pavement;

Which allows me to scream and hurler and to wail and to be hollow;

Which allows me to sob loudly and weep silently for hours on end,
changing nothing in the process.

And so I see the sky, now plunged into darkness,
and just like magic the little silver dots appear
in ones and threes.

And I love to see them so far away, silent and durable
and oscillating in my mind. I do not control the stars.

But He does. And I am grateful for that.

Pusique si j'avais le pouvoir de contrôler les étoiles et mon déstin entièrement,
I would be the Deity and would have no one to pray to.

And then, surely, I would be bereft of hope, to the point of nervous prostration.
And just how can one prostrate to oneself?
Just how can one prostrate?



Sukaina Juma
27th April 2008

***

That time period feels light years away, and yet, by reading my work from that time, it is once again afresh. I may now be ready to gain insight from those vague and blurred years.

One incident that will remain with me for quite a while: it took me quite some time before I could sense the warmth of the sun. I was in the garden one day and felt a warmth on my back that seemed alien. And then I realised that for at least a month, I had gone so deep within that I had been unable to feel the sun's rays on my back.

How good it was to feel once again. And it made me wonder why I couldn't before then.

From the darkness cometh the bright pearls of my creativity and expression.

And yet, there must be a more conducive way to do this, mustn't there?

Qui sait?

Hello, you!

 

 

 

 

I want you to know my entire Soul, my entire being. 

I want my smile to be imprinted in your memoire for eternity.

And yet.

I seek the best from God.

And it seems that there's a flaw in the system.

I knew it was too easy to be true. The first time, with you ticking almost all the boxes?

Cosmic playthings, we are. And He's laughing at our ignorance. Yet not ready to show His cards.

Eh, ben. Quoi faire?

Je lache tous les attachements à la mémoire et l'idéal de toi.

Que sera, sera.