I will never be…

I will never be someone I am not. No matter whether I try to. I will always be the girl that
sees the good and beauty in everyone. Even the flaws. I will always be the girl who sees people as people. With compassion and love. I will always be the honest, loving, sometimes ornery one who can turn any situation into something to learn from.

I will never be one to take revenge even if someone hurts me badly. I will love them even through it all. That doesn’t mean that I won’t cry. It doesn’t mean that part of me won’t be broken.

It just means that I can love. It means that I have learned to put others before myself.

It means that I can see that though someone hurts me, rejects me, or wants to make me miserable – that I can see past that. It doesn’t mean that I will stand and allow it to continue. It means that I can forgive. It doesn’t mean that I invite it to my life. It means that I allow others to be themselves – including being ugly.

We all have an ugly part. We choose whether or not people see it. We hide behind our fake smiles. Or we isolate and keep it a secret.

But we can never be who we are not. We can only be who we are. We can only embrace ourselves as who we are and eventually, hopefully, come out on the other side having learned something from it.

Released…

Release me from myself
I am entangled

In a massive mess of flesh
Evaporating in a pool of foolishness
Yet somehow, I have awakened
The light now shining to the inside
The reality can no longer hide
The brutality coming to a head
Bursting forth; rising from the dead,
Breaking through what was not
Coming out yet still so alone
Yet not alone but completely whole
Body, mind, Spirit and soul
Where before I was tied up,
On the verge of being dried up,
Yet Someone has awakened me and
I am released.

Chaotic peace…

I am sitting here thinking of this sick addiction
that I seem to have for creating friction
I have this need to just sit and create something out of nothing
a need to make something work that has no business of being together
something that doesn’t belong in the setting that it is placed
someone said that it didn’t belong, that it wouldn’t fit,
someone else defined the limits of what should be and shouldn’t.
Who are they to say what is and what isn’t?
Who are they to tell me what should and shouldn’t be and why do I listen?
And yet again, who am I to think that what they say doesn’t matter?
why should I continue to sit and wonder why I am sitting alone,
without a voice
when I have a choice that would make a difference
if only I spoke up. How effective is silence in this world?If bitterness were something that you tasted, I would have the market on it.
If the nasty, burning bile that rises from deep within your stomach came whenever it needed to, would I turn into a pile of heaping bitterness?

Actually, I don’t think that I would.

I don’t see myself as bitter as what I sound like to be.
Other people do not see me as bitter either – or are they close enough to taste what I see and feel?
Am I really showing what is truly inside or is it all a front to show people what they want to see?
Do they really look now that the walls of me are coming down?
Now that the real insides are being exposed?
Now that the true pain of it all is staring at them undauntingly?
Or will they look away and run… Pretend that they see nothing.
Pretend that all is wonderful in their houses made of glass.
Pretend that nothing really bothers them, that all is well and good.
And reality check – do I care?
I do care. But it’s different now.
I don’t care if they see me hurting. I don’t care if they see the pain.
I don’t care if they see that I am just like them as long as they see what has truly changed me; what makes me different from the others…what makes me into me.
I might have bitterness that comes creeping at times and other times saturates me.
I might be the essence of a nasty bile that courses through your system making you think twice about what you will do next, what you will say and who you will say it to, but at least I make you feel.
I make you want to change.
I make your stomach surge and make your thoughts want to purge your system free of all the toxic poisons that come through you.
I make you want to be freed from the insanity of being sane.
We are allowed to feel these thoughts of random chaos.
We are allowed to breakdown and cry and lash out periodically.
Without people like us where would people like you be?
Would you ever think of anyone who was hurting?
Would you ever actually allow change to happen in your life?
Why would you want to rest into a steady lull of mundaness?
Wouldn’t it be better to simply feel now and then?
To just be who you are and let God take all that you have and mold it into what he wants you to become?
And how does your view and opinions of me speak to you now?
Do you think I have lost my mind and that I have gone over the edge of reality?
I am sure I have. But – I am also held in the hand of Jesus.
Created by Him. Taken from His side. It is written, “we have the mind of Christ,”

Jesus offended many to help them to see that they too were blind, helpless, and bitter.
The only way to change is to see that a change is needed in the first place.
So when you taste the bitterness rising up within you, before it takes a root, take a breath and just cry.
Cry with all your might. Even the angels cried out to Jesus.
Let your entire system be purged of all thoughts of hatefulness and strife.
And when your done say Jesus, take this life.
Manifest within me what you have within You.

Doesn’t that make you take a breath of peace? It makes you stop.
That’s home.

You might say that I am sometimes a mad-dashing rush of chaotic wind trampling your thoughts, making you spin, creating friction where there is no place for it…
but in reality – through all of it – there is an anchor. I have chosen to hold onto the anchor. To be seated in heavenly places, to not be confined to situations or places, but to actually live and love even with all the loss that comes.

Peace has a price. The price actually sometimes is chaotic.

 

Prisoner of Silence

Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, and still,
She sits and wonders how her life could be so real
that it’s like a fantasy – a fantasy gone bad.
She stops and smiles at herself wondering how she didn’t go mad
or maybe she really is and just doesn’t know.

She bows her head as the tears begin to flow.
So many things have happened to her, she must laugh at her lot
For years she sat in a darkened cave alone and distraught.
So familiar with heartache she wanted to run and hide
but every time she moved she always seemed to collide
into a wall that was unseen, held in place by tightened chains
that cut deep into her flesh causing even greater pains.

Sometimes she had to stop fighting and just sit down and rest
and it sometimes seemed like resting put a bigger burden on her chest.
The weights grew so heavy that she knew she couldn’t stand
she fell to the dirty floor unable to comprehend
how life could be so hard, full of disappointment and fear
And happiness seemed to turn and run anytime she came near.
She didn’t know that things are often much different than they appear.

Everyday she heard them taunting her, playing their heartless games,
she cried so much she eventually believed herself to be all those names
that they gave to her, assigned to her, thought of her to be,
and all she ever dreamt of was to one day be free.
If darkness could be tangible she could hold it in her hands,
for it shrouded her and held her captive in its chilling land.
A prisoner of silence she was sentenced early on,
parole wasn’t an option she was sentenced without doing wrong.

So in her small cave of darkness she sat as a little girl
Afraid and brokenhearted this became her only world
Nightmares kept her dreams far from her reach
And terrors icy hand held her tight and took her speech
She fell deeper into a hole of depression and despair
Always hoping for a hand to reach out to her and to care.
She lost her voice deep inside of her and silence took its place.
It filled her heart and mind without leaving a single trace
of who she really was or what she was here to be.
This hovel became her home and she had no way to flee.

It was a while that she sat there, still, in her cellblock.
The guards of Fear and Self-hatred always came to mock.
They came to her cell and teased her through the iron bars
They whipped her with their hands and words leaving many scars.
What was left within her? There was nothing ever spoke.
Did she mean anything to anyone or was her life just a joke?
She wasn’t laughing, she was crying tears too big to shed
The wounds continued bleeding and infection seemed to spread.
She knew that she wouldn’t make it, she knew that she would die
For years she’d been in this place there was no one to reply.
Words are like arrows and sometimes pierce us to the core
They’re thrown around haphazardly and then they’re thrown some more.
To this prisoner of silence, alone in her cell,
A word of life could do so much, it could change her world.

She cried out daily for a rescue to take place
She longed for her time to be up and maybe she could taste
A part of life she’d never known to be available to see
Something different from the ugly darkness, where is her beauty?

A guard came to the cell with a visitor in tow
Said his name was Truth and he had a richened glow
that lifted some of the darkness that had cuffed her in so tight.
It was then that she began to see things in a different light.
He told her she he could free her and her eyes changed with a small hope
She was very scared and put her chained hands out slightly to grope
To find his hand not knowing what to expect
He gave her something glassy that seemed to reflect.
She saw it was a mirror and held it up to her eyes.
They were full of pain and sorrow, there was no way to disguise
The anguish and abuse that covered her in a shallow grave
She had become more than a victim, she’d become a slave.
She wept softly at what her life had become
in her mouth held silently chained still and unused sat her tongue.
Truth stared into her eyes and said what do you want me to do?
Let me tell you a story and I’ll ask again when I’m through.
I’ve known you for a while now and I’ve been waiting for your call.
It was when you cried out for a rescue that your chains began to fall
Sitting silent and in this cell, with her head down and eyes half closed
She decided she needed to look again and see the way Truth glowed.

She lifted up her head and tried to focus her eyes
Suddenly she saw Truth above all the mountain of lies.
She wasn’t all alone as she had thought before
The truth had been there waiting for her like an open door.
All the years of lies ran – she heard them shrieking down the hall
The more she focused on the Truth, the more the lies got small.
The chains began to break, their hold could be no more
For Truth had it’s vengeance and higher was his score.

She shifted on the bed as the tears continued to flow.
She thanked God for her freedom from the undertow.
Finally she made it to where she wanted to be
Finally, yes finally, she was free.

The Moon

Moonlit skies light up my face
as I sit here in this place
surrounded by the music of the creatures of the night

The crickets chirp their peaceful song
the river runs quietly along
as if they are in a dance together with themselves.

The moon seems to hold my dreams
within itself or so it seems,
until I see the stars brighten and light up in the night sky.

Gazing into them I am filled with wonder
hearing a sound like roaring thunder
Yet no clouds block my view in this glorious night.

But yet a voice comes so sweet and tender
and propels me willingly to surrender
to the dreams and hopes that feel my heart and mind.

It’s almost like sunshine springing out through rain
it takes away all of life’s pain
and makes dreaming a dream something real.

To feel your heart come alive within you
to know that there is a big breakthrough
in all that you ever dreamt your life could become.

It’s worth hanging your dreams on the moon,
to feel such warmth, like a well-played tune
strumming on the strings of the deepest part of your spirit.

Like the flowers blooming in the meadow
the dreams began to open and flow
and I begin to my own song that goes along with the night.

A reflection of light from the moon on my face
made me think of dreams and embrace
the love that is within a voice, a song, a night.

His Eyes…

His eyes so deep and brown hold a truth within them.
As I gaze into their depth, I get lost like a child,
eager to explore and unaware that I have strayed.
I long to seek out sensations and feelings
that I’ve never felt before and through each discovery I
feel changed. Excited. Renewed.

I feel like I’ve been immersed in a fragrance so rich and
pure. The scent arouses my senses and perks me up.
If I never discover where the smell comes
from exactly, I still know it originates from a man full of
passion for all things dear to him. That alone is very
intriguing.

His eyes have a way of holding me in a way
that arms cannot. They convey a strength that is big enough
to catch me when I’m falling – and yet they make me trip
and get completely tangled in a beautiful mess.

I’m caught up in a world of spinning laughter, of endless wonder
and almost mystifying magic. With one glace they make my belly do
somersaults. They make my heart pound, but make all my
muscles go weak. I could stare into them forever and allow
them to love me.

How can one person make someone feel such feelings?
It’s like standing in a river with a current so strong and warm…
oh to just let go is pure bliss! And now I am floating downstream.
I am surrounded and saturated. The twists and turns and dips
are not scary but exciting. Invigorating.

To taste the smell of love is almost intoxicating; taking me to
far away dreamy places. It’s like dancing in the rain barefoot
with total abandon. All else takes second place when it comes to
this love. This love is something that I will guard with my life. This
love is something I will cherish and hold tightly. Those eyes. They
say it all. They take me in and leave me breathless while at the
same time they spin me.

empty tracks..

Only let them in a little. Just enough that they can see
some good. Just enough that they’ll want to know more.
Enough that they’ll seek you out.
Make them curious.
Intrigued.

Talk about the future enough to provide a small amount of security.
Provide empty promises.
But not too much.
Pull forward.
Back up.
Repeatedly.

Do it until the track marks can be visibly seen and recognized.
Drive in the same tracks and don’t detour.
It’s safe.
It’s familiar.
No confusion.

Even if the rain comes it won’t wash out completely. There’s still
some recognition there because of the past.

Unless of course if you stop.

Then the tracks fade away.
The safety begins to feel uncertain.
There’s no recognition.

Then the emptiness becomes seen as the main path.
And empty.
No promises.
Nothing familiar.

A faded past of something that was and yet was never.