The air is faintly cooler now
A hint, nothing but a hint
The heat of summer is fleeting
I fear it
Slipping
I feel it
Doing so-
Passing a mirror- glancing its direction
Resting on the glow
Of bulbs streaming down
Heat waving around
And again I think of summer
The mirror remains
My image fades
Into a crowd of newly familiar people
And Tennessee mountain tops
A tiny room muster with tears and adrenaline fueled
In front of three hundred eyes
Fits and laughers
Of sisterhood
Spanning miles- many miles
Longing and aching
Dart with sight
Swells in my chest
Quivering my lips
The images- I watch them
Moving
Sinking into place
Sculpting the curve of my brow
Rounding
My shoulders
Seeping and sifting
Welcomed by my walls
There I was again
In the mirror
Still looking at summer
Feeling its heat
I felt ready for winter
For the iciest winter
Stepping away-
No mirror needed
Where my finger
Pushed
A hair behind my ear
Everywhere between
My flesh
There was warmth-
There was summer
My words begin and end at the mouth of Christ
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Answer to the Universal Question
I often think
It is
a
moving hand
an
Ant trudging
Up a creviced tree-
Along the bark
From root to tip
Of the most lighted leaves
an egg
Full of yellow yolk
Housed by fragile walls
Cracked easily
Goo running out-
Still held together as one, stretched
And sliding among
Its pieced house
a
Seagull
A lot lie its brother
Foe and friend
All wild in souring
Perhaps
Most of all
I often think
Rather is not
And can never be solidified
But instead
A gust brought only
By turning
Dusty, wrinkle papers
Bounded by string-
Laced in ink-
Joining may more
Remaining there
Yes, yes that is what it is
I often think
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Blink
-"Saints" crafted by Jimmy Abbegg
Only faces I see-
Smudge-edged and rough
Warm at their backs
Hung from a woven
Wrought iron fence
Grim eyed and
Waiting, perhaps
Wanting but only
Staring-their flat,
Colorless eyes catch
On mine and we
Do not blink for
The longest of
Time until my eyes collapse
And leak
And must be shut
They do and reopen-
The faces still there-
Etched in coal,
It seems, though I
Dare not chase my
Finger along the
Canvases to clarify-
I draw up on my
Toes, they crack
Slightly and I
Watched for the
Faces to react-
They didn't.
Rough ruby lips
Part as my questions
Whisper out
Were you not
Once alive, be holding
These expressions with
Tiny-haired flesh
Striving muscles pulling
Against aching bones
And emotion chasing
In your blood?
Did you not once have
A body
With hands, feet, rib cage
And sturdy legs?
I rested against my
Heels again, feeling my own
Body thank me in relief
Glaring, intently, glaring
For the answer-
I turned abruptly
But stopped
Before me were the living
Faces- full body
Breathing, sucking air
Into their pink lungs I felt sure
A soft trimmer, a beat
Found itself in their hearts
Once dead- captured
With brush and ink and
Hung on a wrought iron fence
But now
Glistening, wet eyes- alive
Gazing up at themselves
Remembering, never wishing
To return
Only faces I see-
Smudge-edged and rough
Warm at their backs
Hung from a woven
Wrought iron fence
Grim eyed and
Waiting, perhaps
Wanting but only
Staring-their flat,
Colorless eyes catch
On mine and we
Do not blink for
The longest of
Time until my eyes collapse
And leak
And must be shut
They do and reopen-
The faces still there-
Etched in coal,
It seems, though I
Dare not chase my
Finger along the
Canvases to clarify-
I draw up on my
Toes, they crack
Slightly and I
Watched for the
Faces to react-
They didn't.
Rough ruby lips
Part as my questions
Whisper out
Were you not
Once alive, be holding
These expressions with
Tiny-haired flesh
Striving muscles pulling
Against aching bones
And emotion chasing
In your blood?
Did you not once have
A body
With hands, feet, rib cage
And sturdy legs?
I rested against my
Heels again, feeling my own
Body thank me in relief
Glaring, intently, glaring
For the answer-
I turned abruptly
But stopped
Before me were the living
Faces- full body
Breathing, sucking air
Into their pink lungs I felt sure
A soft trimmer, a beat
Found itself in their hearts
Once dead- captured
With brush and ink and
Hung on a wrought iron fence
But now
Glistening, wet eyes- alive
Gazing up at themselves
Remembering, never wishing
To return
Caught in a 1930's Radio Show
Settled in a sepia hue
The crackle of the
Fire blankets the
Stillness
The constriction of her
Belt is overwhelming
The sweat beneath her gloves-
Dripping
They are gone, thrown
To the floor, raw red
Lipstick had been of no
Benefit
To-night she entered alone-
Artificial flowers on
Tapestries and couches brought no
Amenity
Yanking at her hair
She stripped if of pins
Thrashing her head a bout,
Untamed
Earrings, necklace, bracelets
Alike, tumbling to the ground
The light remains
Discrete
Stumbling in the shadows
Collapsing against unforgiving excuses
For cushions, breathing in the sting of
Loneliness
Eyes so exhausted from
Searching refuse to remain
Exposed eye lids become
Locked
Palms, fingers pad around
Finding the switch- turning it
An orchestra resounds against the
Walls
Elbow bent over her dozing face
Finally able to find rest
Her mind dreams of handsome
Perfection
Another enters without
Notice- swiftly, silently
Clearing the space between
Them
Kneeling at her side
Calloused hands gently cup
Hers- deep brown eyes fluttering
Open
A brilliant, bright smile
A nod of his head
He cradles her with
Ease
Lifting her from the couch
Letting her feet slip to the floor
Through fits of joyous
Laughter
Drawing her close, the tips
Of their blouses kiss-
He guides her to the chorus of
Orchestras
Their dancing slows- resting her
Cherried cheek against his chest
Twirling, her locks whipped
Freely
Fastening her eyes shut knowing
This feeling endures anything of sight
Delight catches in her throat
She finds it hopeless to
Breathe
The crackle of the
Fire blankets the
Stillness
The constriction of her
Belt is overwhelming
The sweat beneath her gloves-
Dripping
They are gone, thrown
To the floor, raw red
Lipstick had been of no
Benefit
To-night she entered alone-
Artificial flowers on
Tapestries and couches brought no
Amenity
Yanking at her hair
She stripped if of pins
Thrashing her head a bout,
Untamed
Earrings, necklace, bracelets
Alike, tumbling to the ground
The light remains
Discrete
Stumbling in the shadows
Collapsing against unforgiving excuses
For cushions, breathing in the sting of
Loneliness
Eyes so exhausted from
Searching refuse to remain
Exposed eye lids become
Locked
Palms, fingers pad around
Finding the switch- turning it
An orchestra resounds against the
Walls
Elbow bent over her dozing face
Finally able to find rest
Her mind dreams of handsome
Perfection
Another enters without
Notice- swiftly, silently
Clearing the space between
Them
Kneeling at her side
Calloused hands gently cup
Hers- deep brown eyes fluttering
Open
A brilliant, bright smile
A nod of his head
He cradles her with
Ease
Lifting her from the couch
Letting her feet slip to the floor
Through fits of joyous
Laughter
Drawing her close, the tips
Of their blouses kiss-
He guides her to the chorus of
Orchestras
Their dancing slows- resting her
Cherried cheek against his chest
Twirling, her locks whipped
Freely
Fastening her eyes shut knowing
This feeling endures anything of sight
Delight catches in her throat
She finds it hopeless to
Breathe
Girl Time
It was just us girls
Doing girly things
That these girls love to do-
So many tiny
Glass bottles
Clanked together
Showering down
Into a rainbow hilltop,
Sifting through them with
Naked hands
My fingers clutched
A royal purple-
Blair chose
Bonnet blue-
Emily- hot pink
With sparkles,
Fits of giggles
Echoed through
Against sea wooded
Walls and ocean air
Not a care in the world-
Not a boy in sight,
Just doing what girls
Do best-as purple
Coating hardened over each
Ripe nail
A gust of tension swept around the
Room-
Gone Instantly-
Cracked by Indian roars of
Ruckus raising creatures- Boys
Screams, so loud they blistered
The window panes, Rang from our mouths
But we knew just what to do- three against two
An easy pin
Flicks of
Purple, blue, sparkly pink
Doing what girls do best-
Revenge
Doing girly things
That these girls love to do-
So many tiny
Glass bottles
Clanked together
Showering down
Into a rainbow hilltop,
Sifting through them with
Naked hands
My fingers clutched
A royal purple-
Blair chose
Bonnet blue-
Emily- hot pink
With sparkles,
Fits of giggles
Echoed through
Against sea wooded
Walls and ocean air
Not a care in the world-
Not a boy in sight,
Just doing what girls
Do best-as purple
Coating hardened over each
Ripe nail
A gust of tension swept around the
Room-
Gone Instantly-
Cracked by Indian roars of
Ruckus raising creatures- Boys
Screams, so loud they blistered
The window panes, Rang from our mouths
But we knew just what to do- three against two
An easy pin
Flicks of
Purple, blue, sparkly pink
Doing what girls do best-
Revenge
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Beautiful
South Carolina summers are unbearably hot...humid... and down right miserable. A soft breeze is rare to say the very least. But, nevertheless, when the time to write comes, it can't simply wait- it must be carried out for fear of never being remembered again. And it's here amidst spiky grass and dead pine needles under the drilling rays of the summer sun that I think of the most beautiful thing a girl of any age can think of. Her mother.
However, it took me seventeen years to finally appreciate and recognize just how beautiful my own mother is. Actually, it was just last week while sitting in a crowded dorm lobby of a college nearby when I did. The room was musty from the amount of tears being shed from everyones eyes, including my own. Each girl had drawn their knees into their chest as if trying to create a safer place for their tears to fall rather than the floor. We sat, our dripping eyes cast upwards towards our fellow camper, our dear friend. Besides the sniffling of runny noses, only her voice could be heard as she spoke with words pouring straight from her heavy heart. Everyone was listening intensely to a story of a mother who never cared, a mother who never loved but rather a mother who neglected, ignored, and degraded. The speaker went on to say that she never knew how to make her mother proud, how to make her mother care about her, or how to make her mother love her. The room was completely silent when the story was through. Feeling as if my heart and stomach had been ripped our of my body, I realized then and there that I was incredibly blessed. I realized in that gut wrenching moment how utterly beautiful my mother is and always will be.
Don't get me wrong, my mother is a very physically beautiful woman, but the beauty I'm referring to is a beauty that can only shine from the life and heart of someone. It is because of my friend's heart breaking life story that not another day will go by when I'm not on my knees thanking God for blessing me with my mother. Because without my mother? I wouldn't even want to know where I would be, or better yet who I would be. It is because of my mother's endurance in believing in me through the years that I have come to believe in myself. It is because of all the things my mother does for me that I feel special and wanted. And it is because of the love my mom so graciously exudes everyday that I am left with a tangible example everyday of how God loves me, unconditionally.
I could go on, but Mom, if you're reading this I hope you see how much you mean to me. I hope you feel the sincerity of my words. But most importantly, I hope you feel beautiful because that's exactly what you are. And if you ever doubt that? Read this, I would be happy to remind you. I love you, Beautiful.
However, it took me seventeen years to finally appreciate and recognize just how beautiful my own mother is. Actually, it was just last week while sitting in a crowded dorm lobby of a college nearby when I did. The room was musty from the amount of tears being shed from everyones eyes, including my own. Each girl had drawn their knees into their chest as if trying to create a safer place for their tears to fall rather than the floor. We sat, our dripping eyes cast upwards towards our fellow camper, our dear friend. Besides the sniffling of runny noses, only her voice could be heard as she spoke with words pouring straight from her heavy heart. Everyone was listening intensely to a story of a mother who never cared, a mother who never loved but rather a mother who neglected, ignored, and degraded. The speaker went on to say that she never knew how to make her mother proud, how to make her mother care about her, or how to make her mother love her. The room was completely silent when the story was through. Feeling as if my heart and stomach had been ripped our of my body, I realized then and there that I was incredibly blessed. I realized in that gut wrenching moment how utterly beautiful my mother is and always will be.
Don't get me wrong, my mother is a very physically beautiful woman, but the beauty I'm referring to is a beauty that can only shine from the life and heart of someone. It is because of my friend's heart breaking life story that not another day will go by when I'm not on my knees thanking God for blessing me with my mother. Because without my mother? I wouldn't even want to know where I would be, or better yet who I would be. It is because of my mother's endurance in believing in me through the years that I have come to believe in myself. It is because of all the things my mother does for me that I feel special and wanted. And it is because of the love my mom so graciously exudes everyday that I am left with a tangible example everyday of how God loves me, unconditionally.
I could go on, but Mom, if you're reading this I hope you see how much you mean to me. I hope you feel the sincerity of my words. But most importantly, I hope you feel beautiful because that's exactly what you are. And if you ever doubt that? Read this, I would be happy to remind you. I love you, Beautiful.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Insomnia
Insomnia is a gift sometimes. Take for instance last night as a good example where a night doomed to tossing and turning became a one of mental wandering. As I laid there on my back, squishing my eyes together, willing myself to "please fall asleep, please fall asleep" I realized I was fighting a win-less battle. Great... just what I needed.
So, accepting my defeat, I got up, flipped the radio on and began thumbing through an old magazine.
Thinking back on the next couple of moments I can't help but chuckle at the similarity it has to my earlier piece of prose, "Valentine's Day", but I can't hide the truth.
I guess you could say my increasing boredom from the magazine was easily swayed when David Guetta's top-chart song came seeping through the speakers. To say the very least- it captured my attention. It goes a little something like this "I can't win, I can't reign I will never win this game without you, without you, I am lost, I am vain I will never be the same without you, without you I can't rest, I can't fight, All I need is you and I without you, without you...I won't soar, I won't climb, If you're not here I'm paralyzed without you, without you, I can't look, I'm so blind I lost my heart, I lost my mind without you..."
I know you must be wondering why I could possibly want to dedicate an entire blog post to this over-played, cheesy, secular love song, but take a moment and reread the excerpt from the song. Then, take another moment and think about your attitude towards your daily walk with God. Should our love for Him not sound like this desperate need for Him everyday? Should we not be singing this love song to Him with the say we live? Because, it's right, are we not nothing without Him? I know I am.
In these late night moments, I was struck. Even after the song was over, I pulled up the lyrics on the Internet. Reading and rereading. God showed me something new each and every time I read it. He showed me that this love song is really all about Him. (maybe not the intention of the artist, but for His purpose for me, it works) The line "If you're not here I'm paralyzed..."gave me chills. Thinking immediately about my very own life... how I think these things I do are getting me "somewhere in life". But, through the words of this song, God showed me that doing it for myself and by myself all accounts to nothing, literally running around like a chicken with its head cut off Sure, I may be physically going places, but accomplishing nothing. That's paralyzation. Unless I take-on life depending on God, I will forever be paralyzed in life, but with Him I can put my life into motion.
Thank goodness for insomnia, it was a gift last night- ending a seemingly dreary night in a quiet lullaby of prayerful whispers...."I will never make it by without you, Jesus...I'll lose my heart, I'll lose my mind, without you,Jesus...zzzzzzzzzzzz..."
So, accepting my defeat, I got up, flipped the radio on and began thumbing through an old magazine.
Thinking back on the next couple of moments I can't help but chuckle at the similarity it has to my earlier piece of prose, "Valentine's Day", but I can't hide the truth.
I guess you could say my increasing boredom from the magazine was easily swayed when David Guetta's top-chart song came seeping through the speakers. To say the very least- it captured my attention. It goes a little something like this "I can't win, I can't reign I will never win this game without you, without you, I am lost, I am vain I will never be the same without you, without you I can't rest, I can't fight, All I need is you and I without you, without you...I won't soar, I won't climb, If you're not here I'm paralyzed without you, without you, I can't look, I'm so blind I lost my heart, I lost my mind without you..."
I know you must be wondering why I could possibly want to dedicate an entire blog post to this over-played, cheesy, secular love song, but take a moment and reread the excerpt from the song. Then, take another moment and think about your attitude towards your daily walk with God. Should our love for Him not sound like this desperate need for Him everyday? Should we not be singing this love song to Him with the say we live? Because, it's right, are we not nothing without Him? I know I am.
In these late night moments, I was struck. Even after the song was over, I pulled up the lyrics on the Internet. Reading and rereading. God showed me something new each and every time I read it. He showed me that this love song is really all about Him. (maybe not the intention of the artist, but for His purpose for me, it works) The line "If you're not here I'm paralyzed..."gave me chills. Thinking immediately about my very own life... how I think these things I do are getting me "somewhere in life". But, through the words of this song, God showed me that doing it for myself and by myself all accounts to nothing, literally running around like a chicken with its head cut off Sure, I may be physically going places, but accomplishing nothing. That's paralyzation. Unless I take-on life depending on God, I will forever be paralyzed in life, but with Him I can put my life into motion.
Thank goodness for insomnia, it was a gift last night- ending a seemingly dreary night in a quiet lullaby of prayerful whispers...."I will never make it by without you, Jesus...I'll lose my heart, I'll lose my mind, without you,Jesus...zzzzzzzzzzzz..."
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