Desolate

You sit there

with me

on this white patio swing

and I’m waiting

for your

hand

to hold

mine

and as your eyes

look out at the

wheat  

waving their

fingers at us  

in our direction

all I want

is for those

emerald eyes

to look

back to

me.

But even as

I keep sitting

here, reaching out

for you,

I need you

to reach out for me.

If you don’t,

then what’s the point?

The will to love must come from both,

and I can’t keep doing this  

Alone.  

Neglected Love Letter

February 13, 2012

Dearest Early Bird,

A year with you is complete.

I cannot say it wasn’t hard –

you know it was.

Every day a push and pull,

deciding where I could

stand, arguing where you could sit. 

I cannot lie – many days

out of our 12 months there sat

an agonizing weight upon my heart, 

a rage of worries battling

against our growing relationship,

trying to knock down the castle

we were building up for ourselves.

While I am still a girl,

you treat me like a princess,

and I hope I’ve been fair enough

to call you my prince.

I know our love is like no fairytale.

Fairytales are few and only far between,

meant for silly dreamers like me.

But I can only hope that after

two years, or three,

we can agree to keep one another

in a united life of laughs, leaky faucets,

and late night kisses, filling picture frames

with our captured hearts

and silly souls.

So here’s to one more year

and many more. 

May God ever be with us, in us,

and alongside us.

With Love,

Night Owl 

Desire of Division

I want to travel…

away from those  

who I know and love,  

from those who I still

love and who I shouldn’t.

My heart cannot look

on those faces,   

so many  

who think they understand

what I’m going through

but don’t.

How I wish I could

yell

scream

curse

spit  

shriek

at you for causing me such pain.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…

But so have you,

burying into my heart

only to destroy it from the

inside out and

everything, everyone

reminds me of you.

So I’m ready to cut myself

off from all

to become myself again.

Uncertain Surrender

“Sacrifices are necessary,”

I can hear you say

but no.

You mean to change me,

transform me and force me

to metamorphosis into the

Perfect Woman you want me to be, 

like the obedient Cuckoo Clock

on my mother’s blue wall to

chime every hour,

on the hour,

a machine only you yourself

wind up and command.

Control.

It’s what you want

I can tell,

but

you can only strip away

so much of who I am before

there is nothing left,

before I fall apart like  

papier-mâché pieces

tormented and tattered

on this linoleum floor,

wondering

how I got this far.

When comes your sacrifice,

what shall you place upon

the table?

What,

may I ask,

is our middle ground?

For I’m giving up

a part of who I am

for you

but what shall you give up

for me?   

Missing You

I was always cold.

Not in mind,

but in body;

not in spirit,

but in senses.  

You were warm;

a heater keeping my frostbitten form alive.

And your eager hands wrapped  

fleece blankets around me,

tucked me safely within

layers of cloth comfort,

and I secretly hoped to wear

your sweetly scented

sweatshirt

one day.

But you never offered

and I never asked.

Your over-sized hoodie

never adorned my feminine figure,

never confined me in your fragrance, 

never provided me my coveted warmth,   

and I feel as if I was neglected in a time

when girls proudly wear loved ones’ clothing.

My body shakes and shudders

with every breeze that brushes 

across my sensitive skin

for I’m still cold

and I’m left

missing you.

Chrismation

(for someone, not just anyone)

This boy,

clothed with garment

of pure white,

walked away from what

he called his own to

surrender himself into

realm of ancient days.

Colorful assortment of

red, yellow, and white petals

scattered softly

across hardwood floors

welcomed a fellowship of

believers who joined in

parade of delightful exaltation.

With oil anointed on

head, heart, hands and feet,

the Word surrounded him,

passed through him and 

entered within;

And there came the

feeling of peace,

a new walk in

hope and grace.

While nearby hearts remain

wrapped in magic of ordinary days,

his senses pull him ever forward toward

the Way, the Truth, and the Life

where (for some) seeking

God is

easy;

But for him,

this boy once suffered

under pricking and piercing of

dark spirits, dragging him down,

seizing and fixating on his soul.

Yet only until an image

of God astounded him,   

where God saw his pain

and called his name,

did he concede his old self,

and the young man found his

Home.