Excerpt from Dreams Are Not Concerned
Today
Today i am immune to negativity
Immune to the concept that laughter is a foreign language
And joy can only be shaken forward through a forbidden tongue
Today i embrace the wind
The fragrance captured in the leaves
The orange tanginess of lemon drops
The moments smoky with soft kisses and stolen glances
Today i embrace the questions
And challenge the doubts
My head aches from over thinking the lines and rhythms and confines of this poem
Keeping me tucked away from the issues and shades of gray
Today over thinking is a mystery
And my hips are exactly the shape and size they should be
Because today, finally, i am walking in the fullness and liberty of joy
Yes today is my day
And i choose to believe
That i can fight and wrestle for my sunshine
And win
That i can catch it with both hands
Slide it into a quiet place
And sing sweet soft lullabies
Reminding it that happiness is ours
And we can play in this world we have created
For as long as we choose
Because in the land of today
The hands of the clock rest on satisfied and content
The breezes taste like cinnamon
And we lay here
Silently basking in this feeling
that goodness is real
And the moments that are being strung together
Will be captured on a canvas
Colors melting into the definition of
Today
Repetition
i found myself running toward your love at full speed with everything I had and when i looked up searching for a finish line all i saw was a flash of red before my face hit the bricks...
i found myself running toward your love at full speed with everything I had and when i looked up searching for a finish line all i saw was a flash of red before my face hit the bricks...
i found myself running toward your love at full speed with everything i had and when i looked up searching for a finish line all i saw was a flash of red before my face hit the bricks...
Wait...
Pause...
Breathe...
I found myself slowing my pace down to a walk that allowed me to see the world outside my window...
I found myself steadying my breath until it became smooth and free...
I found myself examining the scars and sifting through the blue
I found myself...
I found myself...
I found
Myself underneath all of the torn and tattered red, black and blue...
I found myself happy on the other side of that battered brick wall safe and hidden from the repetition of you...
Dear Rahsaan
It’s raining outside and for some reason I feel good about it. My apartment is clean [enough], warm, and I am resting in my favorite spot in the house, my dining room table. This space that is warm and clean and mine is where I write, paint, draw, think, fidget, do all that needs to be done, just in that moment. Here I can clear my mental space, regain my footing and find that quiet place where my smile lives. Sometimes there is only the sound of music playing, and sometimes I will leave the atmosphere perfectly silent with just the sound of my fingertips dancing along the surface of my keyboard and on nights like tonight, the sound of the rain dancing outside of my window is the soundtrack.
I went to see your show last night and as I witnessed you leave us all behind and slip into the world that only true artists understand, something inside of me shifted. There is something magical about seeing an artist, in their element, diving past reality and into the world they created. The sounds, the lifts of the notes, the runs of the notes, the make your toes curl and want to slap somebody of the notes…all of it. And you sir, with your signature loud claps to the side, your eyes closed, dimples flashing, did everything you could to take me there and allow me to witness…passion. The moment that transcends money, celebrity, expectations, just give me the mic…or don’t…I don’t need it…just let me sing moment. I love that. I crave that. You live that [like I used to]. My eyes are open now. [gratitude].
Lately, my life has been 100% business. Readings, signings, managing appearances, interviews, swallowing fears, hiding behind a full time job, not allowing myself to admit that this is all brand new and I am afraid to let go and leap. Voices, concerns, people. Will they like me? Will they love me? Will they get me? Will they see me through my art? Will I finally be freed from the scrutiny and be allowed to fly free? The pressure has folded the celebration down into a page that I cannot read and I miss it. The creation and artistry. The desperation and losing track of time of it. The expectations, elation, can’t wait to scream it out at the top of my lungs of it. I miss love [art].
So Rahsaan, thank you for reminding me of what passion looks like. You helped me rediscover my core again. The artist in me, the writer in me, the painter, singer, dancer [in my living room exclusively] in me. You make me want to believe in myself again. In the vision and the possibility. In the lessons and the tears. The questions, the bruises, the bumps, the scars, I trust it all again. Between you and me, fear has paralyzed my pen to the point where ideas would present themselves timidly before being shuffled into the maybe later pile and watching you I realized that I am being unfair to them. I have a story to tell in a voice that is uniquely mine. Questions to answer, walls to knock down, lives to inspire, patience to refine, all of this is within me. Only I have the ability to use my voice, tell this story, stumble, tumble, and climb past my own insecurities and simply live it. I cannot hold myself back any longer. I must dive into my own artistically passionate world and set my voice and my dreams free. You taught me that the only way to truly define myself, is to simply let go, and fall back in love with my craft. You helped me get back to myself. And for that I am eternally grateful.
Sincerely Yours,
Brandelyn N. Castine