Four.

Processing abandonment
Is like walking on
Broken egg shells
That were supposed
To be bulletproof.

1.11.19

Half an hour.

Layers of periwinkle and tangerine sky
Sweep over our cold hair,
And trees flicker by like uncertain sparklers.

Edelweiss and Abba caress our ears;
We steal half an hour of evening-time
To thrust ourselves into nature’s peace.

Silence is sweet, and our thoughts
Are subtle as we lean 

Into the approaching darkness.
In the night,
We are free to be ourselves.

Afternoon’s sun shed light on our 

Shortcomings, but here—
In the car in the dark—
We relax as the moon’s blanket is draped
Over our shivering shoulders.

There is peace in hiding.

There is peace in releasing expectations
With a hissing breath that rolls off 

The open windows into the fading road;
False pretenses disappear

Into the tumbling exhaust.

Half an hour.

Enough time to empty our cups.
Not enough time to fill them back up.

3.19.19

Yesterday’s 6am.

Yesterday’s 6am
Found me cleaning up the mess
I had made before the sun rose
From its primitive grave.

Tendrils of yarn and rest
For the unraveled sweater
Met my tired hands
As yesterday’s 6am
Called others to rise.

I was paralyzed with
Exhaustion,
As I finished my 28 hour
Work and dropped,
Like a stricken sparrow,
Into sleep.

Yesterday’s 6am.
The same sun rose again
Today, and I blink my eyes,
Preparing to face another day.

3.5.19

For a friend.

You sat across the table
From me,
And you gave to me
A sense of friendship.

Your eyes sparkled,
Talking about your familial bonds,
And the commonality in which
You shared
Captured me.

This is where the community began.

From there,
I met the one with perfect English
And sweet serenity
And enthusiasm.

I met the one with wild hair
And wild eyes
And a heart of confusing tenderness.

I met the one with charm and wit,
Fit for a vintage time—
His knack for poetry and rhyme.

I met the freckled face
That seemed to place me
Into the world of acceptance.

I met the girl with sunflower hair
And laughter that fills
An entire room.

I met so many more who impressed
And amused me, with various
Eyes and minds and thoughts;

But it started with you at lunch
That day, and I must say:

Thank you.

12.14.18

There is no explosion.

The nothingness haunts me
Like a screaming firework
That never meets its end.

I wait.
And there is no explosion.

How do I expect a life
To come from ashes
That drift like fallen leaves
Of smoke?

The winds blow where they choose.
I have no choice.

Alone in this paradise
Of lonely paradox,
I am sent scrambling to the safety
Of my personal bed.

Blankets shield my head.

I want peace inside my ecstasies.
I want joy to pervade my homestead.

1.31.19

Pilllow book: one.

The warmth from my cell phone lingers on my fingertips. It is the recent memory from a long-distance friend. Her encouragement and the words of my insecurities replay in my heart as I sit, whiffing the cologne of a visitor, the fresh branches of fir, and the garlic scent of dinner.

A friend in red sits across from me, her eyes scanning a story with disappointment. Disappointment in the story? No. Disappointment in the writer. Sadness, doubt, and a hint of melancholy furrow her brow. It was the tipping point for depression.

The couple in the kitchen laugh and banter. Their sunny personalities spark joy in an otherwise pensive room. Their innocence and workmanship bring peace and spur me into a concoction of feelings: discontentment mixed with hope.

Outside, the crickets chirp faintly. Winter has dulled their cheer. The silence of darkness that settles like a blanket over the world, broken only by that faint chirp, seeps through the open window. The glow of the salt lamp wards off fear.

A half-finished drawing is sprawled on the rug while the half-mussed sofa invites weary souls. Laptops lay opened in crooks of the room, and the dried rosebuds sway gently from the ceiling. The atmosphere is reminiscent of fairyland.

The girl in red leaves to go dancing, hoping to dissolve sadness with healthy pleasure. Dinner is served. A spider visits. The room is filled with laughter, banter, and contented cheer. Somehow, resting here, I am happy amidst longing. I am filled without realized hopes. I am surrounded by warm serenity.

Declaration.

The strength that you
Pretend to have
Faces extinction
At the feet of my Father.

The power rushing
From the blood of
The Lamb withstands
Your folly and vicious ways.

I am nothing in the eyes
Of justice;
I am a daughter in the eyes
Of my King,
Who bought me from
My burning shame
And slavery
With the gentle hands
Of His sovereign Son.

Kingdoms fall at the
Sound of my God’s
Inexplicable voice;
Mountains crumble,
Seas collapse,
And atoms rush
To obey His every command.

He designed our laws
Of the universe,
And subservient are we,
His kingdom’s seed,
Whom

He made free.

With supreme power,
He fell to His knees
To obey His heart—

But,
He was torn apart
By the people He adored;
Even more, He hung in shame
Bearing the pain
I wore around my neck.

It was the price I was meant to pay.

So don’t taunt me
With your cruel fingers,
And don’t tear my eyes
From the love of my life,
The sole purpose for my
Being.

You destroyed the One
Who raised you up,
And selfishly,
You tear me from Him too.

Blasphemy.

You declare blasphemy.

You see—
You know—
He is more than you or me.

You witnessed
With angry depression
As He rose from dismal
Oppression of
Death and darkness
To paint the world
In resurrection
And reveal to His people
The glorious life we may live.

Light.

He gleams like a city on a hill,
Shining beauty from the ashes that
You stamped into his flesh and blood.

Truly,
He is God’s Son.
He is Creator.
He is worthy of every ounce
Of zealous praise
And earnest thanksgiving
And absolute adoration.

He is my only celebration,
The master of all creation,
And I will never believe
Your lies that tell me

Otherwise.

Don’t ask me to bow to your command,
Or your whims of falsehood lies;
I will stamp the dirt
From your bitter mind,
Declaring your minuscule
Existence in comparison
To His absolute glory.

This story does not end
With your victory.
He has crushed you, enemy;

He is everything I need.

And He has gifted me
With eternity.

1.19.19

Come find me.

Don’t contradict my mind
With expectations; you persist
In placing a chain around my neck
And insisting I consist

Of more than my temperament,
Less than my straining creativity.
You tell me that my depth is more
Than you should be handling.

Dive deeper.

See the color inside of me.
I promise there’s a storm
Of glorious serenity
Just waiting to be released.

I want to share my thoughts
And my dangerous sacred feelings;
This swaying branch of life
Begs for more to be seen.

I’m telling of a world
Full of never-ending life
Burning through the death
Of these cheap worldly plights—

My imagination meshes
With eternal blinding truth;
I picture the heaven we were made to see,
And my God teaches me
Our revealing fruit.

One day it will be over.
Life will come beyond this death.
But in the meantime,
I will continue swimming
Through my depth.

Come find me.

1.9.19

Lullaby.

The moon pours like
An iridescent waterfall
Into the pool of my
Hopeful dreams;

Nightfall turns my eyes
To the things of faeries,
And out of the silence,
I find music that is
Deafening.

Purple clouds coerce
These daring sweet thoughts
Of you and your beaming soul—
I feel your arms hold me
In my imagination.

The strange persona
You uphold will one day
Reveal to me with perfect
Clarity your beautiful
Extent of personality.

Perfection in imperfection.
Lilies in valleys.
A glowing city on a charcoal hill.

Soft wool caresses my fingers
As I lay in quiet,
Giving my envisioning thoughts
Over to Abba
And sleep.

1.9.19

Sleepless.

Loss runs its fingers down
The darkness of my soul
Reminding
Me of someone who
Used to be whole.

11.22.18

Corridors of springtime.

Corridors of springtime
Bloom on the outskirts
Of my previously charred
Map—

Tap, tap.
Two steps forward,
And I refuse to dance
In reverse any longer.

The stronger remains
Of my fingertips
Scurry from the darkness
As I retrace my shaky
Steps from the usual
Haunts of shadows
Into the hallways leading
Toward sunlight.

How bright.

I had forgotten what it was like
To hold my head high
With courage in the daylight
And warmth in my veins.

Laughter multiplies
In my chest.
Stains of yesterday
Have passed away.

Behold, all things are new.
Joy bursts like a balloon—
A bright blue balloon—
Carrying me to the clouds
Of effervescent color.

Wonder.

The corridors of springtime
Have not led me astray.

Here, I intend to stay.

1.1.19