20 Thursday Aug 2020
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20 Thursday Aug 2020
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17 Monday Aug 2020
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What manner of world is this
When we have stolen and dismissed
Greatness, for we believe
Only the heightened may achieve
And fruit that has grazed the ground
Along with those just beyond margins found
Should drink in acceptance without a sound
Oh wordless, voiceless
Beloved of God
Pushed deep into the hardened sod
Sprout and break
For if you can
You have the gifts
To heal this land
You have the strength
To restore a peace
You are filled with the genius
To bring relief
You are the mighty bearers of light
Carrying news
That brights the night
You may not remember
What Great God
Whispered in your ear
Before he dispatched your soul to your body
And sent you here
You are more
You are more
And when slams the door
Think on this
You bear pearls
Cultivated not for
Those who have it all
And believe they own the call
Your pearls are for the many souls
Who will lift up their weary eyes
And rejoice as hope unfolds
Written by Regina YC Garcia, 08/16/2020


11 Tuesday Aug 2020
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Grammar Intentional
Started with hope. Soon, I sought rope. Physical changes. Life rearranges. Found some new passion. Took some tough lashings. Wrote myself sad. Wrote myself glad. Dreams of perfection. Took new direction. We need an election. Driven into mad sections. It all is so scattered. Folks so sacred our lives matter. So scared of my skin. That erases my grin. Black to where we begin. Before King, we begin. We have to win. Or lives may just end. Masks are pulled on. Masks are thrown off. It’s the way of this land. Not just in the South. People cough, heave, and die. The rhetoric flies. I still look for my center. Need my emotional center. Legacy building. Keep trying, God willing. Can’t always tell. Feels like I might fail. Feels like I might be. Be ready to flee. Feels like I might know. Know I’m ready to go. Go change my life flow. Somtimes those around. Thought they were with. Found they weren’t down. Not just what they said. What they never did. Must’ve been stuff. That they barely hid. I’ll live ’til I die. For my Loves, I will try. My hair–still wavy. My skin–summer brown gravy. Hips still wide, just a bit. Thank goodness pants fit. My mind–still spinning. Still dream of winning. Teaching in my view. Learning is, too. Is what I know ever enough for you? Is what I need to know still in a vast sea of what I need to see? I still want to trod a red rug. I still need the true distanced hug. We lost some of the great ones. Some who’ve known me from day one. Some who set the scene in this nation. That helped Shades rise to their station. To them I say “Thank You!” For all that you did do. For every mountain you scaled. For everytime you were jailed. For every knock that you took. Left you out of school books. Yet God still elevates. ALL the True Goods and The Greats! Vivian, Lewis, and Harrell. Without them, our roads would’ve narrowed. My road would’ve narrowed. My life, far more harrowed. Today, I do feel able. Though, not always stable. I just had to get this out. In case my heart goes into drought. ‘Cause I may never speak again. Summer 2020. My God. Amen.
Thinking of my Beautiful Ivy Beyond the Wall, Helen Peppers Harrell, Statesman and Freedom Fighter John Lewis, and God’s Warrior for Justice Rev. C.T. Vivian. This has been a Summer of Mountains. Trusting God for Peace in the Valley… ❤🙏🏽❤
10 Monday Aug 2020
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Touch, Torch, and Eternity
What A Word Inspiration provided by Portia Bright Pittman, Stacy Jarrell, and Pansie Flood
*Inspirit, Jubilant, Change

Saints gifted to Inspirit a world
Bring life to broken weary hearts and bones that are
Struggling to find any home to lay down burdens
These humble paragons lift up those who have wrestled night and day
With the evil myths an rifts in a world of perceived Godlessness
The Jubilant messengers, soulful sojourners soothe, cajole, enliven and smear ointments of peace and joy on the one or the hoard of faces marred and bodies stoned
And they
Pour libations for the nations
They are
Angels wrapped in flesh
Disguised with smiles that pierce, confuse, and beguile the cloaked demons
That lurk just outside the periphery
Or boldly walk unashamed
Within the territories
Change conditions
Undeterred, these Torch Bearers of Night, Bringers of Light that
Helping others pull dreams into fruition
Wizened warriors spanning eons of the holiest traditions
Who lift blood, clay, and breath towards the sky
That those who live ’til they die might one day
Know the sweetest by and by and by and are
Now measured in divine plans of forever
Good Friday Song
What A Word Inspiration provided by Raymonda Peele, Tanisha Hines-Johnson, and Jean Lovett Cahoon
*Extortionate, Contraption, Committment

The Extortionate cost of our souls
(For we were unworthy)
Bought with the richest form of love
Stripped from scores of tears and welts and bleeding sores
Pinned to planks, pierced, and pressed with
Unforgiving points
The monumental sacrifice
Of purity for sin stain
That we might live again
No greater love
No greater Committment
For He never left
He never left
Hung upon that
Vile Contraption
That we now kneel before
Seasonally draped in white, purple, red
We Pray, Praise, Adore
And oft we never conceptualize
The wretched tears and cries
Of people we claim we despise
Neighbors, Family, Friends
Faceless citizens
We hoard land, money, power
But my Savior hung for hours
That we might cross boarders
That once held us in this graveland
Yet we pinch what we’ve been given
Merciless souls of flesh living
But two things He asked of thee
To love His Father eternally
To love each other as if we see
Ourselves as them
Again and again
02 Sunday Aug 2020
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Temporal Rift
I’m floating in a pocket outside of time
Though perhaps you see me
Because I seem to be
Here
Skin, hair, teeth, and bone
Roam the world
Yet often, my essence rumbles in a temporal rift
A space that I inhabit when I am terrorized by the thought that the pieces I’ve left in real time will make no difference in the place I’m thought to be
While I peep from the pockets where I store my insecurities
I try to hurry, that I might return to the rest of me
To create my illusion of free…
Temporal freedom
Temporary freedom
No time…no time…
No peace of mind can ride this temporal stream alone, intact
In fact…
If I could move up and down the continuum to control my fear
If I could stop and restart tears and fears
If I could control the gift
I could avoid my journey to the rift
The trip that sends me adrift into the darkness layered carefully between light
Where I try to build up the inner fight
To ride a train of temporal courage
That will not wane
To leave a legacy that will play sweet refrain
Long beyond my footprints stain
The earthly floors that do remain…
In the meanwhile
I do as I do
I pray that one day
It be enough…
I preach comfort
I teach conciousness
I build carefully
(Fear and trembling)
I scream “I think of thee and these! Are you pleased? My God, are you pleased?”
Is God pleased?
Forgetting nothing…
Am I forgetting anything?
Yet when pain sets in
I run again
Into the rift
And the angel stands guard
While I store and discard the pain
And ask the Spirit to reign
And restore me whole…
Temporal trials fade
Temporal trials fade
This is as God has made
This is as God has made
Continue reading27 Monday Jul 2020
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I want God
This God
Who created
These brave souls
Souls that lived and fought for us
Those He covered and preserved in bold
I want God
This God
Who pieced
Strong people together
The God who carried
Them through tempestuous storms
To survive the most treacherous weather
I want God
This God
Who answered
My ancestors’ plea
A God who continues
To strike the demons down
To build my equity
I want God
This God
Who puts no other man before me
Who values sun burnished skin
And restores complete
My hard fought dignity
I want God
This God
Who continues to renew my hope
And for accursed dream killers
He fashions his unyielding stiff rope
Not one of the mortal stock
Of the many who claim his name in mock
For those indeed will not be going
To the land that is only made
For those who spoke a truth
Of love and care for fellow dust
And lived lives of full and righteous proof
I want God
This God
Who knit together those who love and give
Who advocate for dreams of the meek
As long as this earth lives
Glory lasts always. Rest in peace, Brother Soldier Representative John Lewis. Rest in peace, Brother Soldier Rev. C.T. Vivian. Sleep in God’s peace and our ancestors’ embrace
Written by Regina Y.C. Garcia, 07/26/2020

13 Monday Jul 2020
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Higher Ground
There’s a trauma that sometimes sickens me
It sits in my cells, having traveled in generations of collective memory
Finds my own consciousness and whispers
“You cannot be free; your time’s almost up; there’s nothing more you can say or be
That makes a difference
Vile liquid churns in my stinging throat and
Fear grabs hold my fighting hope and
Stills my movement and hides my rope
To stop my climb
And all I want to do is find
Before the world finally sputters and unwinds
That heralding voice that lifts and resounds
“This is the way to Higher Ground”
Put my feet on that Higher Ground…
Plant my soul in Higher Ground…
Lord, just let me feel the thrill of Higher Ground!
Written by Regina YC Garcia, July 13, 2020
13 Monday Jul 2020
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04 Saturday Jul 2020
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Today is the 4th
And I will claim peace
As I pray to my God
That my angst will decrease
Today is the 4th
And today I still weigh
Whether protestations for equality
Will ever hold any sway
Today is the 4th
But what does that mean
When carotid chokeholds still murder
Unarmed Black and Brown dreams
Today is the 4th
A day for which many of my ancestors
Bravely and hopefully fought
While others of my progenitors
Were trafficked, sold, and bought
Today is the 4th
And I want so badly to sing
But notes of antiblackness
Still dampen Freedom’s ring
And people still feign ignorance
Don’t understand why they shouldn’t cheer and jeer “red skins”
Or why they should welcome “huddled masses”
Who dream to enter in
And further question anger from those who’ve had an overfill
Of decades of trauma beyond the 4th
That have made liberty unreal
However…
Today I WILL celebrate the 4th
Not for what it is, but for what could one day be
I will claim in faith and work
That we can all be free
In law and soul and spirit
We will strive for all-the-better
We must believe it’s possible
That we can craft and fashion and tether
A way that we might celebrate
A National July 4th
A Freedom Party
Genuinely
Together
Regina YC Garcia, July 4, 2020

26 Friday Jun 2020
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Tags
Be Not Weary In Well Doing, BlackLivesMatter, COVID19, Justice for Elijah McClain, SocialJustice

I am weary of liturgies and requiems
I’ve written to still my soul
I am weary of emerging horrors
Perpetrated by blue hearts frozen cold
I am weary of watching my babies die
As they walk the halls of hate
As they run the streets of disdain and fear
As they dance through beguiling gates
As they are ambushed by dark spirits
Seeking release for anger and power
Shadowed in corners, prepared to pounce
Brown-bodied victims of the hour
I am weary of pouring love
And not returned the cup
I am weary of loose-lipped rhetoric
That promises “Things will change. Look up.”
I am weary of waiting on others
To decide that they will do right
My gut cannot absorb the lies
Cloaked in sugary melodies and light
I am weary of watching history repeat
Politicized plagues, unmasked and militarized streets
Fashioned nooses, licensed lynchings
Fickle help on legal benches
Tears that mourn for the opressors’ stone glory
Absolute feigned ignorance of our stories
I am weary of watching small gods strut
I am weary of crying “My God! What
would you have me to do?
Cast them down, Lord! Bring us through! “
We live in times with naked kings, and Subjects circle to let their praises ring
And right is wrong
And Evil drops the dance and song
At our feet
While we look for saviors
To orchestrate marvelous feats
And wear cloaks of perfection
So keen to live in protection
We become confused
And employ the anciently used
All or nothing familiar ruse
And flawed logic permits many to choose
Yea, choose the enemy or downright refuse
To engage in our own escape…
I am weary
I am weary
And my words, on their own, are not enough
Regina YC Garcia
