Fingerprints

“Values are like fingerprints. Nobody’s are the same, but you leave ’em all over everything you do…” – Elvis Presley

She didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

She wouldn’t use them

To keep her secrets locked in

For fear they would lock her out instead

She felt like her fingerprints had changed

With pressure and time

As she touched other people

Over and over

Over and over,again

Rubbing in love

Rubbing out pain

Leaving parts of her skin

Bits of her soul

In each stroke

No wonder she didn’t quite trust

Her own fingerprints

It seemed like she had

Too much of others carved into her skin

Just like the way she became

Just a little,tiny bit different

With every one she knew

Just enough to make a difference

She became who and what

Was needed at any given moment

Giving parts of her heart

Holding back parts of her body

She felt as if she was covered with the fingerprints of others

Just as surely as she had left her own

Invisible on the skin

Penetrated deep within

Down into the bones

Stained on the soul

Fingerprints

That couldn’t quite be trusted

To hold up in a court of law

But they could be trusted to hold on

To the secrets she kept

intertwined

Overlapped

Buried deep

Burned into

Her very own fingerprints

That she didn’t trust

To look the same

Over and over

Over and over,again

👣❤Jeanna’ Mead

6 46 a.m 4-7-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

My cell phone and my bank account offer the option of a fingerprint identification. I tried using it..only to get myself locked out.

I placed my finger precisely as instructed,over and over again, and it would not accept my fingerprint the second time around.

Maybe all the years of rubbing others,of burning my fingers on hot stones, cast iron pans, boiling water and this,that and another has changed my fingerprints.

I know that I have changed….I have taken all my experiences and those of the people I’ve touched and it has made me a different woman..I’m passionate..compassionate, forgiving and fiercely protective because I’ve been broken, buried,burned and blossomed into who I ask now and I wouldn’t change any of it..just like my fingerprints…these life experiences have made me who and what I was meant to be.

Wake Up Dead

One day I received a text reply from my friend and it said, very simply, “Take care of yourself or you’re going to wake up dead.”

Wake up dead.

I laughed it off at first but then I started to reflect on those words and what it meant.

Wake up dead.

Just imagine that you wake up dead..Just like that..and all the things left behind, left unsaid,left undone….

There’s a Paulo Coelho quote that I love that says,

“One day you will wake up and there will be no more time to do any of the things you wanted to do…do them NOW!”

And yet…I’m so guilty of not doing the very thing I’m always telling others to do.

I have a long list of things I want to do and places I want to go.

I have words to write and words to say.

I have things to give and things I want to receive.

I have people that I need to spend more time with and people that I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with.

If I was to wake up dead, there would be so much left unsaid and unfinished. There would be chaos and clutter for anyone that tried to make head or tails of all my drawers and closets,my books and papers, and the way I’ve done things but…..

That’s the way I am.

However..I don’t want to wake up dead that way..I just don’t.

While I know good and well that no one is promised tomorrow and only God knows when number of our days, I know something else,too.

Life is precious. Life is beautiful. Life is meant to be lived fully, lived extravagantly and intentionally, lived with love and generosity.

Because one day, just like my friend said, we will wake up dead.

Gone to glory.

Dancing with Jesus.

Standing at the pearly gates.

Passed away.

And just like that, it’ll be over and done with.

With this in mind, I decided to go through my drawers, my closets, my attic. Organizing all the stuff that I’ve accumulated over my lifetime…letters and cards, drawings from my children, handwritten recipes from my beloved Mema and Mom, books I’ve highlighted and written in, journals and notebooks filled with my poems and prayers, my painful memories and my beautiful reflections, blessings and curses that comes from the living life on ragged edge.

I want to make sure that when that time comes and I wake up dead that there isn’t anyone left wondering how I felt, how much I loved, what mattered to me.

That’s right.

I’m going to say what I think and what I feel.

I’m going to apologize when I should. Raise Cain and Abel when I get riled up. Sprinkle kindness like confetti all over creation. I’m going to whisper “I love you” and shout it,too. Dress up fancy for no good reason. Drink chocolate milk from wine glasses and wine from plastic tumblers. I’m going to dance with strangers and those that I love. I’m going to say “YES!” when I want to and declare “NO!” when I don’t.

I’m going to make time for what matters to my body,my spirit,my mind. I’m going to make plans and not excuses. Find reasons and ways instead of obstacles and barriers.

Because one of the days I might wake up dead and I damn straight want to be sure that I lived.

I want to give people something to talk about when that day comes,too.

I want them to say things like this.

She sure did love with her whole heart.

She felt with both hands.

You never had to wonder what she thought about things. She spoke her mind with truth and grace.

She was a damn good listener even though she was half deaf.

She gave as much as she received.

She loved surprising people and getting surprises.

Lawd have mercy, she loved to dance.

She couldn’t carry a tune to save her life,but she sang anyways.

She was strong as a bull and stubborn as a mule.

She didn’t always have the best but she made the best of what she had.

She never gave up on people,no matter what.

She loved cowboy boots,faded jeans and pretty lace underwear and worn them from the day she lived till the day she died.

She was smart. She was kind. She was beautiful in her own way.

Yeah, that’s what I want people to say about me when I wake up dead.

But I also want them to say it right now while I’m living and I want to make sure I say it,too.

I don’t want to hear that someone I know and care about woke up dead and I hadn’t made time to talk to them.

I don’t want to gather at a funeral home wishing I had another chance.

I don’t want to have a long list of regrets;of cancelled invitations, turned down dates, missed opportunities, unspoken words,unwritten letters,untold stories and untaken pictures.

That’s not my style,not my desire, not my choice.

So here it goes….this year is winding down and a new one is about to begin and I’m making a list,checking it twice, kind of like Santa Claus, of all the things I want to do,all the people I want to love on and the places I want to see and the dreams I want to come true so that I can start checking them off, doing it all, living my life with passion and love, giving and receiving beautiful things.

From now on.

Just because.

As long as I can.

Until the day comes.

When I wake up dead.

👣💗Jeanna’ Mead

8 59 a.m 12.6.18

Www.jeannasoul.com

These Two Men

These two men sit

Outside with me

Comfortable and at ease

Talking about the past

Things they did

Places they had been

I sit there

Looking at them

Reading their lips

Knowing full well

I’m missing some words

But still

I know enough

These two men

Bring me along

Include me in

We have a past

Present and future

I have no doubt

These two men

Hold me close

Don’t leave me out

Remind me of who I am

And when I wonder

If it’s enough

I think about the way

These two men

Sit and talk

With me

And I feel the love

That comes along

From being known

And knowing well

These two men.

👣❤Jeanna’Mead

8 18 a.m. 8-16-16

Www.jeannasoul.com

For Jim and Benjamin..these two men…..