I write because

I write because...

...the words will not wait.
...they must be expressed.
...perhaps someone will read.
...I imagine I will be heard.
...perhaps some other mind and heart will understand.
...I long to touch another soul.
...I long to understand, and be understood.
...it is human.
...it allows me to just "be."
...I imagine this is a dialogue, not just an ego-driven monologue.
...it feels like the purest water flowing out of my soul.
...it is cathartic.
...it is like a song by which my soul dances.
...words can be like unexpressed tears.
...it is so much more than words.
...thinking someone special may read it gives me a shit-eating grin.
...in a way, it is empathetic.
...perhaps this virtual wooden spoon will hit someone on the ass and cause them to become more self-aware, as well.
...it is window on the past, the present, and ideas of the future.
...it can be reread and cried over, laughed at, or smiled about.

...I can.

Just for a While...

"One more day feels like home again
For so long now I was my only friend
But I know it won't be long till I pack my things and I'll be gone
So for awhile, just awhile, let me feel at home again
Feel the earth beneath my feet again
One more night I see my love again
But I know it won't be long till I pack my things and I'll be gone
So for awhile, just awhile, let me feel at home again
Hey, hey
Hey, hey
But I know it won't be long till I pack my things and I'll be gone
So for awhile, just awhile
For awhile, just awhile
So for awhile, just awhile, let me feel at home again"
__________________________________________


They are not my words
Not my melody
Yet they sing my fear
Sing my longing
"Like home again"

Yet like nothing I've ever known...

Not in House
Not in walls
Not in space within which I breathe...

But Home
Home in heart
Home in hand
Home in hearing

In the here and now

Maybe someday, someone, somewhere, will get it

Will understand
Will sing a similar song
For a while... Just a little while
A while of welcome

Welcome Home...

Finding...

Jaded..?
Because I doubt this.
I don't believe in soulmates any more.
I don't believe in a twin flame.
I don't believe in "finding" a mate.

I'm so damned afraid to ever hear "I love you" from a man again...
In anything other than friendship.
It could be lies, all lies.
It could hide such deceit.
It could destroy the fragile ability to trust that I'm working so hard to grow.
If I let it close, if I dare let down the drawbridge even the slightest bit...

It "could..."

Will it?

I can't possibly know that. Or predict it.

Funny, because I still do believe in love.
Even after having my trust completely obliterated...

So, I won't look.
I'll grow and tend friendships like my favorite raspberries in the garden... :-)
With care.

I'll be quiet, and watch.
And wait.
And work on becoming a better version of myself.
And learn to love others better.
And learn to let God work in me deeper.
And learn to laugh, and smile, and dream again.
And learn to give...

And one day...

Just maybe...

Hearing "I love you" will sound like home is calling.

Fear will vanish.

And I'll walk through that warm, welcoming door.

And my soul will be found.

All we are..

At once we seem so simple.

A body.

Look deeper.

A soul.

Look even deeper.

Our mind, will, and emotions are wrapped up in between the cells.

Wrapped in the light, the glue of the universe.

A spirit.

Oh, it's getting complicated now.

Where is the personality lodged?

From what soil did it come forth and in what it has put strong roots?

Thoughts?

Ahhh... they have temporarily erected thrones in shifting foundations.

Springing up, then toppled, then built again.

Where can one find the heart's residence?

Do I go by feeling to note its location? 

Because at times it's low in my belly, solid and grounded. Calm and peaceful.

At other times it rockets through my chest like a locomotive, threatening to burst its bounds.

And then, there it is clutching my throat with a vise-like grip, holding back words... or sobs.

Even there, from behind my eyes. Burning, melting, leaking... or blank.

Memories are housed in my head, right?

A shovel should dig them right up and out.

Ah, but no.

They twist and turn, some from shadowed corridors, some from breathtakingly lighted glass jars.

I can smell the cedar fire, taste the gingerbread, feel the softly falling rain, and hear the words whispered.

Perhaps they are only suspended above my head.  

I cannot reel them in and sort them out.

It makes me doubt their veracity.

Ah, but then I look even deeper still.

Faith.

Where does it live?

Trust.

Honor.

Truth.

Where does character have its birth?

Doubt.

How to cut out that which is diseased?

How to prune the unruly branches in me?

How to determine what is worthy to remain?

Oh, and I forgot about something.

Longing.

Is there a room for this, as well?

It aches and reaches, groans and pines.

Stark white walls with no decoration.

Unfilled.

Small on the outside, but cavernous within.

Its questions tumble on and on, asking, without answer, a riotous flood.

Simple?

One has to be simpleminded to think so.

More intricate and complicated than I can comprehend.

Yet, it is all we are.

Birthday

So very different...
This year, than last.
I'm standing alone, facing the year ahead.
Before, I had what I thought was a strong hand in mine as we walked into the future...
Together.

No more together.
Alone.

Funny how much difference a year makes.
My children's arms are linked with mine, but my hand is empty.
No strong hand grasping mine.
Yet, it is open. 
It is strong.

I have such wonderful memories...
Built on sand.
But they were wonderful.

The pain is birthing the new.

Birth ... day

How to Reconcile?

How to reconcile?
What I feel
with what I want
What I should say
with what I will say
Who I was, who I imagine I am, who I wish to be
with what others experience of me, what is said of me, or perceived...
My want to defend and offend and lash out
with the person I want to be who walks a higher road
The strength I have
with the wanting to be vulnerable
The wish to be loved
with the fear to open to that love
The wish to love
with the fear of rejection
The desire to take risks and step out
with the perceived stability of the status quo
What I know and have learned
with the vast amount of which I am in ignorance
People who said they loved me, were "here" for me... who cared
with the fact that they lied, betrayed, disappeared, and who really don't give a shit...

Shatter the Glass

Glass can be a wall.
It can separate and divide.
It can keep one in, and the world out.
The air inside can be stifling.
The environment inside can be artificial.
Unreal.

Through glass, one can see out.
Others may be allowed to see in.
However, glass can alter an image.
If the glass is warped, the image is not true.
If the glass is dirty, the truth is muddied.
If the glass is fogged up, the truth is blurred.
If the glass is tinted, the truth is shadowed.
Glass can magnify sunlight and engulf the subject of its focus in flame.

Find beauty in brokenness.
Let go of fear and find your life!
Let the fresh air in.
And the stale air out.
Let the light shine in.
and your light shine out.

Shatter the glass.