Trapped

Darkness, fear…
A cramped
Place.
Trapped, always
Walking but
Never moving.
Hands grasp,
Tear.
Pinning, hurting.
Darkness, trapped—
Fear.
How to get out?
Can you get out?
Struggles, tears,
Shame.
Hands, bodies
Pinned.
Fear, pain, struggles.
Trapped with
No way
Out.

Hidden Hell

Pain, hurt, sadness…
A wall getting torn
Down.
Stone by stone,
Hands rip away.
Light pouring in
Through the cracks
To reveal a scared
Little girl
Who just wants
To heal
And feel safe.
Light piercing
Darkness…
No where to hide
Anymore.

Through Hell

Dawn always comes,
Or so I’ve heard.
I’ve doubted it…
For when you’re in
The midst of
Darkness,
It’s hard to see
Dawn approaching.

It’s the hard thing,
About traveling through
Hell,
You lose track of
Where you’ve been
And where
The End begins.

You don’t quite see
Until you’ve woken
In the woods
Yet again,
And healing
Begins.

Pain doesn’t leave,
And the scars
Will never be gone.
Yet scars will
Fade,
And scars are better
Than open wounds.
Scars are a testimony
Of Healing and
Life.

Scars add to you,
Though…

Hidden—
They cause you to look
No older than a
Child.
Revealed—
To look as
If you’ve lived
Through more than
Anyone could in
A lifetime.

Traveling through hell
Will not let you
Leave unscarred.
And going through
Purgatory
Will not let you
Leave unchanged.
Healing does that…

Musings

I've been meditating on the book of Habakkuk. It's a really intriguing book, and I'll post more when I get the chance. For now, I'll just post a favourite part of it (3:17-19).

17Though the fig tree should not blossom,
nor fruit be on the vines,
the produce of the olive fail
and the fields yield no food,
the flock be cut off from the fold
and there be no herd in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
19GOD, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.

It's good because it talks about trusting God no matter what, even if life seems unfair...or horrid, etc.

Life's been interesting lately. Work's a lot of fun, also interesting. It's a fun working environment and I've been learning a lot, including Spanish. I'm very joyful at the moment...which is awesome after everything.

New Poem

Here's a new one I wrote. Dedicated to Aaron.

The Harrowing of Beauty

I found you,
Curled up
And hurt.

My arms gently gather
You up,
Shielding you from
The world.

I examine the wounds
And pain,
Healing what I
Can.

My eyes darken
In fury
As I see more
And more wounds.

How could they do
This
To you?
So precious, so
Beautiful…
Yet they did this
To you…

I slowly begin to
Help you heal,
And slowly the wounds
Fade to scars.

Your eyes…
They did that to
Your eyes.
So very old
And guarded…
Not as they
Ought to be…

Beauty…they attacked
Beauty.
Beauty which ought
To be touched
Gently and
Carefully,
With permission.
Not grabbed,
Not taken
Forcefully,
But gently, carefully…
Caressing.

I wish I had been
There,
To stop them…

Your smile
And touch
Tell me not to
Worry,
And that I’m
Helping now.

Still…I wish
I could have
Stopped yet
Another
Attack on
Beauty…

New Poem

Dreams as Reality

Sleep but no rest,
Dreams but not peaceful.

I heard once that the worst
Thing that could happen
Is dreams becoming
Reality.

I didn’t believe it
At first,
But then my dreams
Began to become
More than just
Dreams.

I understand, now,
Why someone would
Say that.
Wishing for your dreams
To come true
Is all well and
Good,
Yet you can’t
Wish what dreams
Come true.

What do you do when
Dreams you wish
To stay just dreams
Don’t…
And the dreams you
Wish would come
True
Stay just dreams?

Life is a curious thing
And dreams curiouser.
What happens when the
Dreamworld resembles
Truth
More than actual
Reality?

If you ever find out
A good reason
For that fact,
Will you let me
Know?
I’d appreciate it…

For now, I’ll continue
Living
Where dreams are
Real
And Reality
Is dreamlike.

Beautiful Verse

I was recently looking through old entries in my journal, and found this verse written out. The date was back in March or April, during a hard time when I was having to rely on God. It spoke to my heart again, as I re-read it.

Hope it does the same for you.

Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.

~Song of Solomon 2~

New Poem

Lament of A Flown Muse

The pen rests on the paper,
Waiting for words
To come.

The story awaits its
Final chapter,
The poem its
Final stanza.

The words have gone
As the Muse
Has flown.

The story, poem
Stuck—frozen in
Time
Without a Muse.

The pen rests on the paper,
Waiting for words
Which have flown
In search of
A Muse.

No voice from the
Paper,
No song from the
Pen.

They are silent,
Dead to this
World,
Hoping the Muse
Will be found
Again—
And give Life
To this
Pen and Paper
Once more.

Psalm 139

O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!