A Thrown Umbrella

I imagine a girl
Standing in an old
Hot pink romper
Tied simply on
The back of her neck
Plain faced and glassy eyed
Watching intently an
All-American house
The fabric along her stomach
Stretches with each breathe
Becoming more frequent
Up-down-up-down
Shadowed by an over hanging
Faded black umbrella gripped
By olive tinted hands
The sun beats down over head
Crisping all that lives-unable
To pierce the fabric of the
Umbrella-
What is in one tick of the
Clock?
She did whisper the thought
Despite herself and the fierce
Rays of the sun
The umbrella is thrown into the dirt
Cautiously, a foot is lifted
A steady walk up the
Doorstep of the brown bricked house
Resting both uneasy hands upon the
Handle
Turning, opening, entering
Welcomed by a rush...
The tenderness of flesh
The softness of a kiss
Surrounding the girl
Like a whirlpool, whipping
Her in circles
The wind sounding loudly in
Her ears ringing them with
Broken pieces and promises
Hallow feelings
Zipping her down the front, exposing-
The insides if her
Every inch
Every thought
every little detail that made formed her soul
Ripped out of her flimsy skin
Disappearing
As a minute hand Moves from three to four
Gone-
Sobbing she searches- only to find nothing
Of herself
Lively brown eyes dull under their lashes...
What is in one tick of the clock?
She whispered
Emptiness

Valentine's Day

I'm not sure how to begin this piece of prose. All I can tell you is this floor I'm curled up on is the least bit comfortable. My feet are sliding constantly on one another-restless. Restless and uncomfortable...AKA the description of my every waking moment for the past three weeks.
Perhaps I should fill you in.
Just in time for Valentine's Day season to hit it's peak, my sweetheart decided to unexpectedly 'hit the road'. Saving you from the messy details of a high school break-up, just know how truly devastating that can be especially when it's not at all what you wanted. So, here I am taking the hardest semester of my high school career, struggling through a heart wrenching break-up, sitting on the floor in my bedroom wrapped in his sweat shirt. And through all these tears, all I want to do is sit there alone and think..and think.
I'm sitting here thinking about how angry I am at him for leaving me, how much I hate that empty promise he gave me that everything would work out. I think about how stressful school is, how terrible I'm doing in my chemistry class. But, most of all? I think about how sickening it is that I can't go anywhere that isn't a constant reminder that Valentine's Day is coming and I now have no one to be my valentine. It's like going through every day with flashing neon signs that say...
"No guy likes you!"
"No guy thinks you're pretty!"
"No guy thinks you're some one special!"
"No guy cares about..you!"
And, boy did I devour those messages. I read them, I listened to them. I let them seep into my mind and heart until I believed them all one by one. Just like many many girls do-I let those sign push me in to the Worthless Washing Machine where I let those statements rinse on me over and over again.
Quite frankly, I'm tired of being drenched in these signs. But, just how can I stop listening? How can I fix the damage that is done?
Like magic, my ears tuned into the radio. After listening for a few moments, my answer hit me with the force of a speeding train. BAM! I heard the line "Take this world, give me Jesus...". Before I had time to redirect my thoughts, the phrase sounded again. "Take this world, give me Jesus..." My thoughts fireworked into a magnificent revolution.
No matter what places, people, opportunities this world has to offer, it does not house my Valentine. You see, my valentine is so big His sheer size is beyond anything my  tiny little brain can ever fathom. My Valentine made this world for me and His name is Jesus.
It was like I could feel His tender hands wrap around my face as he whispered, "Why are you crying? Don't you know how much I love you? Do you not see how beautiful you are because I made you in My own image? You are My special child. I am always with you."
Talk about one amazing Valentine's message.
But what does this mean for you? To all of you who are searching and are listening to those flashing neon signs, I know it's hard not to listen but listen instead to the words of that song. "Take this world, give me Jesus!!!" Then, just like He did for me, Jesus will remind you that He is your Valentine from now until eternity. The realization is calming, I'm not restless resting in the peace and joy of his never ending promise to love me... always.
Happy Valentine's Day!

Photos in Flames

I could hardly breathe when I heard the news. For countless moments I stood there, alone, watching as the movements around me halted. My dear friend’s words echoed in my ears making them ring with disbelief. The trip of my heart beat reminded me to breathe, but when I sucked in for air, nothing filled my lungs. The knocking of my knees became uncontrollable and soon they were unable to hold me upright anymore. I tumbled into a sitting position. My boney fingers gripped the leather sofa beneath me as if this rage, this embarrassment I felt gave me the power to tear it into shreds. I could see nothing that was real; I could feel nothing that was real. All I felt was their wickedness. Everything I heard was their voices mocking me, ripping years of memories and laughs and bonding right out of my soul making me feel worthless.

            The fibers in my brain began to tunnel my thoughts toward those memories and laughs and bondings. To a place where awkwardness swallows the life of a thirteen year old girl and spits her into a seventh grade science class where, conveniently none of her other friends had been spat. This was where I met them, instantly we became best friends…forever. We told each other everything from our “relationship” drama with boys to our difficulties find our ‘place’ in the social hierarchy. We passed notes in class, we gawked at Zac Efron in magazines, we danced, we made inside jokes, we shared our deepest darkest secrets and vowed that we were all misplaced at birth because there was no way God hadn’t meant for us not to be sisters. We stuck together because that’s what family does, right?

            An urgent but gentle hand locked onto my shoulder, shaking it until it brought me back to reality. I blinked through the haze gathering in my eyes and drew in a rattled breath.

            “Caroline? Caroline, don’t worry about them…” my dear friend was trying to comfort me. I knew she was. Her intentions were to show me love. But, I felt nothing. The image of the words she spoke stung so deep inside of me that I was numbed.  A sense of lonely panic swept over me and once again I replayed over and over what my dear friend had revealed to me.  How could something this awful be true?

            I recalled vividly each time a camera was lifted to snap pictures of me and the girls who had been my shoulder to cry on. There were so many wonderful times captured on film. We’d stare at the pictures for hours giggling and engraving those moments in our minds. No wonder I could see it so clearly now… I felt a stabbing sensation in my stomach making me gag. My whole body began to shake uncontrollably. I struggled to curl myself into a fist as tears flooded from my eyes. The tears poured out as rivers on my cheeks, dumping onto my shirt, thank goodness it was black so no one would see the stains. My thoughts became an old tape recorder whispering my dear friend's words over and over again until I had them memorized.

            “Well, her birthday party was yesterday…it was cold so she had a bonfire. Caroline, I really don’t want to tell you…”

“Just go on please…I’m begging…”

            “Okay, well, when it came time to start the fire they just got some wood and started it and I thought everything was going to be fine. But then your name came up…and they started making fun of you and…Caroline, it wasn’t me! I can’t tell you the rest.”

            “Keep going.”

            “ Fine…after they started talking about you it just kept getting worse and worse and they were all sharing how much they hated you. And-and- and then they went upstairs. I thought it was all over but after a while they came back…and- oh my gosh this is terrible, Caroline. They-they had every note you’d ever written to them and every picture they owned of you…and as a celebration they put them in the fire.”

            I shuddered, I wept. I focused on breathing. I tried not to let the image of my face being consumed by devilish flames control my mind. It was too late for that. It had made a monster of my mind.

*                                  *                                  *                                  *                                  *

            I guess you could say I laid there on the couch for months hiding from the rest of the world because the wounds I had endured from it were too severe to overcome. And for a while, they were. Here and now, however,  I look back on that moment and wish I could see what good has come from those lonely months on the couch aching in pain. I wish I could go back, take my face into my own hands and say, “You stop that crying and you stop it right now, missy! Look at you, child, you’ve got family, friends and a God that loves you more than anything else in the world. What more could you need? If you think these people were ever your friend, you don’t know a thing about friendship. You don’t know one single thing. Because if you did? You would run as fast as your little legs will let ya until you ran into the people who love you back.”

            The image of my face burning in a fire is a painful one I can never forget. And it’s true that I may never be able to forget those girls and what those girls did. But I can never thank them enough for breaking me down low enough to realize that no matter what, I can never let myself forget I have an army of supporters behind me. I may not feel anything, see anything, or hear anything.  But they see me, they hear me, and they will never go away. 

Sliding Like Sand

Violet ribbon wound and looped
Sliding like sand on frosted glass
Send the steam
Just a ribbon wound and looped

A Chapter of Chalked Animals

Original clutter surrounds,

breathing down my throat

frames of faces-

hand carved elephants-

and golden athletes

each resembling

a page-

a word-

a letter

laying in the stack

of an unbound

novel

unfinished

yet constantly

the story unfolds

racing

my fingers

along the freeway

reliving each

chapter

sliding over

puddles-

bumps-

ditches-

increasingly

fast

each defeated

speed stick

trembles, quakes

at the brink of its

breaking point

snapped

uncontrollable 

is the search

the desire

the drive

for the chapter 

of present

the shriek of rubber on concrete

the jolt

 halting-

surging

the passenger

meeting, skidding

with pavement

through a windowless front
only to be

welcomed by

the softness of emerald chalk-

kindred dust

arises

soothing drumming beats

inside ones chest

a masterpiece in waiting

a chapter

of chalked animals

anticipating

the stroke

of a gripped

lone, dry

green

instrument

begin to play

across the concreted

chapter

She Stays Sweet

Soft cream leather-
rutted and  grayed
suppressed to bumps
and thumps
as time plodded
along
rhythmically
as each day
her shape
plopped down
to relish in
the cozy
company of
family-
an exhausted
slumber-
to savor the
coolness
of a long
day's work-
a closet
of lonely
moments
and whispers
of tears.
But
she stays sweet
the overstuffed
chair
molds continually
around her
through the ages
the gleam against
her deep cow eyes
constant,
soft wrinkles
glazed her
beautifully-
salt colored
her hair
flawlessly-
charming independence
and a kind splash of sass
never flowed
out of her
veins
Making me
glad there is
such a thing
as angel
wings
giving the chair-
the world-
her
more time.
She stays sweet

Ears

My ears are clogged-
lodged with words-
bursting with chords-
harassing the drum

Filling my world
with piercing
and infectious
sound
stirring-up
a fantasy

Afraid that
one more stroke
from The hand
to slip, gently
another strand
behind
this ear

Your ears
could hear
it too the
fantasy
erupting in the
canals

Resting in the
feeling of
contentment,
residing in
my ears

Wondering.
Do you hear
what I hear
now?
Slipping the strand securely
behind.

Another
rush of melodies
from afar-
heard and familiar
knowing it came not just from
my ears
but
from yours
too