War Cry Chronicles: Pimping compassion


She prayed this morning
She actually did the 4:00am thang
Well – 4:00am going on 4:25
But that is not the point
The point is gurl friend prayed this here morning
So you would think that she would not be courting
This loose lipped – free and swinging – halo descending
Phunky ass bitch fit – in the precious name of righteous indignation
Never mind knowing that enlightenment
Will soon come for her ass – bringing her that much closer
To coming into her higher self – yah-da yah-da yah-da
But that gon be later – this is now
And sista is fixing to pop a bitch

It aint spiritual
It aint cool
It demeans her Queendom
It carries many other degrees of funk that
She can’t think of in this precise moment
So she gon leave dem degrees alone
And inhabit this here human – pop a bitch space
Cause well – it feels good – damn it!
There aint a warm blooded sista out there who
Has never wanted to get their hands dirty on a foul bird


Dang it – she prayed this morning
But that is the thing with fowls
They rise at the crack of dawn – ready to crow and cock a doodle doo
For a day of picking at the dirt for sustenance
Foul bird – just pecking away in mediocrity
Bitterly foraging for worms because she don’t have
The balls to reach beyond her situation to get her life
This chicken is hell bent on flatlining Hardliner’s last nerve
Which now has her manically scratching her neck
The funny thing with allowing your halo to slip from
Its perch over your head
Is that it becomes brass by the time it hits the neck
And it gets heavier and heavier the further it descends

Righteous indignation weighs a ton doesn’t it?

Sista purses her lips – they twitch
As she weighs her options –
A lightning speed decent into full blown rachetossity
At the risk of breaking her back by that heavy assed halo
Or suck on a chill pill – cause really that bird aint worth paralysis


Good decision – her Irates respond to Hardliner’s surrender

A keen blast of ocean spray hits her face
Hardliner counts to ten – feeling lighter with each breath
Feeling the ascent of her halo from her shoulder blades
Clarity fumigates her dome and rays of light seep in
Allowing the stringing together of conscious thought
Hardliner actively seeks the lesson in this experience
She will be big enough to examine her role in the situation
It is a fact that there aint nothing much happening
In the form of like between sista gurl and and that woman
But they are thrown together professionally nevertheless
It is not a relationship that Hardliner gon lose any sleep over
Yet she is experiencing something feeling like compassion
Rising within her
Dang – Jesus was a G! – eh – no offense to God and all
But finding compassion for a hater is deep
Hardliner does not really know how to feel about
All this compassion now flooding her dome
She has noticed that her halo is almost atop her head

That is because compassion dissipates the energy of conflict
And enmity the hater brings into your space – as well as ridding you
Of any ill will you may harbor against this individual
And quit trying to fight it Hardliner
You need to see the God in people
You need to rise above your judgment of them
How can you do healing work as a therapist from
An emotional distance – without finding compassion
For the persons who come to you to help find healing
And bring closure to painful situations in their lives

Hardliner gets their point
It is obvious that the woman is broken in some way
And she projects her brokenness on to persons – manifesting as aggression
Maybe this woman feels powerless in her own life
And in order to feel secure within herself
She needs to trample and hate on other women
Everyone has a story from which their emotional
Landscape is created –
And what Hardliner knows of this woman is that
She has deep emotional wounds
It however does not mean that her experience has afforded her
A passport to bad behavior – and really she is such a headcase
Hardliner doubts that this chick can do better

So how are you going to play this mama?

Hardliner takes a pregnant pause
Soaking up that ocean freshness –
Looking up at the sky and thinking to herself
It is a perfect day for flying – if she were a raptor
Well she gon let the fowl do what it does
Peck at the dirt – dig up worms – not overly concerned
With becoming more than they are
Discovering new heights and horizons
Or transcending internal boundaries
If she does try to bring her hateful self in Hardliner’s space
Sista gon lovingly and compassionately set her straight
Forgive her – then move on
Cause she will not get distracted by a fowl
Hell sista is a raptor – battling her own doubts – fears and insecurities
As she purposefully soars her skies
Bottom line – raptors don’t consort with fowls

Oh – heyyyy yall – I am rocking my halo again

However – precariously perched on a side
The Irates observe in that ultra dry tone of theirs

Well a little pimping aint gon hurt nobody
Yall don’t happen to have a cane lying around by the way
Oh and encrusted in jewels
If she gon do compassion – why not pimp it in style


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