He wraps his arms around her,
She gives a tentative smile.
A curse, a vulgar reply
Bright faces tainted, vile.
Officially they talk, jerk, smirk, walk.
Akwardly they sat, quiet, searching, flat.
Conversations turns, conversions of attitude.
Currents ripple through mind,
Suddenly morphing the mood.
Moments pass in fast forward motion,
Time is skewed all around,
But I'm frozen with no emotion.
An outsider watching film with no sound.
Through this mirage window i view,
Detailed faces I thought I knew.
But as the night zips on it seems,
They slip away like lucid dreams.
Speechless, all I can do is wait,
Observe through this thick waving glass.
At one time I could read your thoughts on your face,
Now I look into the cold eyes of a mask.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Just 5
5 reasons I love being with you:
1. You are hysterical. I cannot stop laughing when I'm with you, and if I'm not laughing I'm definanltly smiling, or trying not to. This is unfortunate, because sometimes I don't want to smile. And sometimes you kiss me, and I can't even kiss you back because your just so dang funny.
2. I can spend the entire day with you in any setting, and I still wish there was more time in the day. It takes a very special person to not get me annoyed.
3. Even if we just goof off and laugh, we can have serious convos too. About dreams, future, life, passions, relationships, God's hand in our lives, struggles.
4. We can do crazy things. Like dance in the spirnklers on the golf course, have paint wars, play ninja, tresspass in nursing homes that are under construction (not trespass, because we knew Jack Hertzel), climb and get stuck on your roof, freeze in the rain outside late at night, dancing in Franke's parking lot, bet/argue/challenge eachother all the time and usually end up with some crazy way of "paying" the person.
5. You're are so many things I'm not. sometimes I feel like a little girl watching her dad, carefully observing and learning and trying to change. Trying to be better. I'm alot of things you're not, too. So in a way, we complete and learn form eachother. And each experience, each day is something profound and new. Something to love and cherish.
1. You are hysterical. I cannot stop laughing when I'm with you, and if I'm not laughing I'm definanltly smiling, or trying not to. This is unfortunate, because sometimes I don't want to smile. And sometimes you kiss me, and I can't even kiss you back because your just so dang funny.
2. I can spend the entire day with you in any setting, and I still wish there was more time in the day. It takes a very special person to not get me annoyed.
3. Even if we just goof off and laugh, we can have serious convos too. About dreams, future, life, passions, relationships, God's hand in our lives, struggles.
4. We can do crazy things. Like dance in the spirnklers on the golf course, have paint wars, play ninja, tresspass in nursing homes that are under construction (not trespass, because we knew Jack Hertzel), climb and get stuck on your roof, freeze in the rain outside late at night, dancing in Franke's parking lot, bet/argue/challenge eachother all the time and usually end up with some crazy way of "paying" the person.
5. You're are so many things I'm not. sometimes I feel like a little girl watching her dad, carefully observing and learning and trying to change. Trying to be better. I'm alot of things you're not, too. So in a way, we complete and learn form eachother. And each experience, each day is something profound and new. Something to love and cherish.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Murdered
Desperately reaching for sanity. It taunts, just beyond the tips of my fingers, just beyond the horizon of reality. The miles between us should provide enough ground for my mind to wander elsewhere.
I want to be angry.
Frustrated.
Fighting.
I am morphed by your mood. It creeps into my mind, toying with inner thoughts, outer emotions. I feel what you feel, sucked into the whirlpool of private struggle and personal dissappiontment. Contagiously, words and looks soak through this ice some call skin. Layers, shudderously chilling, formed from feeling too much. I am cold and hard with you. by you. And sunlight, powerfully penetrating, can hardly warm the depths of my infected heart. I do not choose to be this way, as I believe you do not choose to be cancerous. But daily I am weary from fighting the inevitable magnent. One which can reverse a positive outlook instantly. I am left with ice, waiting for the day it cracks completley and shattered shards lay succumed to the harsh world.
I am so easily effected. Infected.
I continually fall, wanting the sunlight to break through for you, wanting to melt away. Situational happiness. Conditions. Consuming relativity.
When will you let me go?
When will you let me melt.
I want to be angry.
Frustrated.
Fighting.
I am morphed by your mood. It creeps into my mind, toying with inner thoughts, outer emotions. I feel what you feel, sucked into the whirlpool of private struggle and personal dissappiontment. Contagiously, words and looks soak through this ice some call skin. Layers, shudderously chilling, formed from feeling too much. I am cold and hard with you. by you. And sunlight, powerfully penetrating, can hardly warm the depths of my infected heart. I do not choose to be this way, as I believe you do not choose to be cancerous. But daily I am weary from fighting the inevitable magnent. One which can reverse a positive outlook instantly. I am left with ice, waiting for the day it cracks completley and shattered shards lay succumed to the harsh world.
I am so easily effected. Infected.
I continually fall, wanting the sunlight to break through for you, wanting to melt away. Situational happiness. Conditions. Consuming relativity.
When will you let me go?
When will you let me melt.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Miles Away
Miles away.
A completly different culture.
Hardly comparable to the usual day.
Glades, green hills cut out of the fertile ground. Beautiful smiles. Dark eyes and skin contrasting with bright colors. The breeze breaths radiant air into the lungs of this stranger. Experiencing the poverty, the peace, the love. It radiates from these poor people. But is poor the right word? Poor in wealth, maybe, but that is hardly enough ground to blanket them with such a description. Lack of materials creates little disturbance in the riches of family.
Complete and utter devotion to those of the same blood.
Riches of culture.
Alive and focused on community and care. Color and taste. Commitment, expression, and music. And music not only made from instruments and noise, but of laughter floating, ever present, from the joy-filled soul of a child.
Riches of future.
The determined mother who slaves at a river to provide clean clothes for her children. And as the dirty suds ripple away on their journey downstream, so does her fear that she cannot provide. She is rich with purpose. Rich with desire to give a future and hope to her most prized possesion.
How can poor be used to describe such a complete culture? There is something missing from their lives, true. Something no human should ever go without. The comfort of an easy lifestyle, and even the necessities of life they are often lacking. But that is why we are here. To provide, to give a thriving people what they deserve. To bring them Christ's love, something they are never without. To look down upon this society would only expose lack of understanding; for these dark and dirt streaked faces are the mirror image of Christ. This community is what He desires for His people. We must only look past the grime to find open hearts willing to give it all.
Written November 23 in Guatemala
A completly different culture.
Hardly comparable to the usual day.
Glades, green hills cut out of the fertile ground. Beautiful smiles. Dark eyes and skin contrasting with bright colors. The breeze breaths radiant air into the lungs of this stranger. Experiencing the poverty, the peace, the love. It radiates from these poor people. But is poor the right word? Poor in wealth, maybe, but that is hardly enough ground to blanket them with such a description. Lack of materials creates little disturbance in the riches of family.
Complete and utter devotion to those of the same blood.
Riches of culture.
Alive and focused on community and care. Color and taste. Commitment, expression, and music. And music not only made from instruments and noise, but of laughter floating, ever present, from the joy-filled soul of a child.
Riches of future.
The determined mother who slaves at a river to provide clean clothes for her children. And as the dirty suds ripple away on their journey downstream, so does her fear that she cannot provide. She is rich with purpose. Rich with desire to give a future and hope to her most prized possesion.
How can poor be used to describe such a complete culture? There is something missing from their lives, true. Something no human should ever go without. The comfort of an easy lifestyle, and even the necessities of life they are often lacking. But that is why we are here. To provide, to give a thriving people what they deserve. To bring them Christ's love, something they are never without. To look down upon this society would only expose lack of understanding; for these dark and dirt streaked faces are the mirror image of Christ. This community is what He desires for His people. We must only look past the grime to find open hearts willing to give it all.
Written November 23 in Guatemala
Monday, November 5, 2007
Whispers
The world screams. Thrashing, screeching my name. So often I forget the harsh cacophony of sound until I'm suffocating in it. And when I am aware of the chaos, unable to breathe deeply, unable to breathe at all, I can find no words to protest. They scream. Stretching my heart and tearing the light within. Then, when I feel conciousness slipping away, a whisper awakens every sense. Engulfing the blackness that threatens to steal joy. Threatens to steal peace. Threatens to steal hope. To even begin to describe the feeling seems in vain. The blood rushing through my live veins, the breeze breathing into my lungs, the taste of the night sweeter than any human hand's creation. This is when I am utterly aware and entirely consumed at your existance. Every cell of my being is made alive by the whisper of this unfathomable Yaweh. To be so complete, so free. These moments come to few, yet the longing for them constantly pulls on the strings of my mind and heart. For when I am held in the hollow of your scarred palm, I realize the extent of why I am here.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Duality
The dulaity of the mind's consuming thoughts. It's always you. Even the falling of a leaf somehow leads my restless mind down a dirt road of conversations in the past, smiles, the memory of yesterday. My continually failing attempts to focus on the higher ground leave me wandering contently in the valley below, wandering with your image. My plea, sent heavenward in the still moments, often leave my lips incomplete, lost to the distractions of my human desires. Unconciously, I sweep through the dust, pondering intentions, pondering what is to come, pondering why I became so completely convinced. The duality. The fight for my thought's attention. Is there room? Can both share a place behind my closed lids? Surely you would never require my mind in full. Yet, subconciously, unwillingly... I know.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
maybe
they often say "you don't know what you have until you've lost it"
maybe we know what we've had all along, but we refuse to see too much good, because then we become vulnerable.
maybe we chose to pick out other peoples faults when we're really just desperate to change our own.
i know what i have. i have amazing girls. family. my Father. i have love. joy. hope. and i pray that i'll never lose that. because i know what i have, and i know losing it would be horrible.
but maybe i've lost something else too. something that i knew was always a good thing, but i'd convinced myself could be bad. that thing that needed to change in my life. and if it changed, i would have to change too. but maybe it had nothing to do with that thing, maybe all i needed was the drive, the will, and the guts to get over myself and do what i needed to do spiritually. maybe i could have held on alittle longer, fought alittle harder.
maybe, just maybe, i want you back.
but maybe what i want and what i need are completly different.
maybe what i want and what YOU need are completly different.
because maybe it's never been about you. maybe it's always been about me. i know what you need. yet i know what i want.
so now i'm left with a choice. knowing what i had, and still letting you go. still losing you.
but maybe my choice is bearable, because maybe this time, i choose you.
*please let me know when YOU have read this.
maybe we know what we've had all along, but we refuse to see too much good, because then we become vulnerable.
maybe we chose to pick out other peoples faults when we're really just desperate to change our own.
i know what i have. i have amazing girls. family. my Father. i have love. joy. hope. and i pray that i'll never lose that. because i know what i have, and i know losing it would be horrible.
but maybe i've lost something else too. something that i knew was always a good thing, but i'd convinced myself could be bad. that thing that needed to change in my life. and if it changed, i would have to change too. but maybe it had nothing to do with that thing, maybe all i needed was the drive, the will, and the guts to get over myself and do what i needed to do spiritually. maybe i could have held on alittle longer, fought alittle harder.
maybe, just maybe, i want you back.
but maybe what i want and what i need are completly different.
maybe what i want and what YOU need are completly different.
because maybe it's never been about you. maybe it's always been about me. i know what you need. yet i know what i want.
so now i'm left with a choice. knowing what i had, and still letting you go. still losing you.
but maybe my choice is bearable, because maybe this time, i choose you.
*please let me know when YOU have read this.
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