Saturday, December 27, 2014

"Chained Melody" {an original poem}

(written June 26th, 2014)

The music storms within me
Strains I can't express
I am a chained melody
These chords left unpressed

My soul aches with feeble hands
When that one song plays
And my brain mimics the band
The hurt lasts for days
Years
And that's when I know
That's when I decide

It hurts
That's the nature of the thing
Maybe
It hurts me more than most

Me, with my trembling heart
Me, with my pain-filled hands

No one thought I could do this
Or should
Not even me
Especially not me

No one except The One
Plus one.

I tried not to hear her and the Infinite
And found myself immeasurably outnumbered
With a guitar in those hands

Call me crazy?
Get in line.
I'm first.

I strum with bum hands
Until I think I've gone mad
Or maybe I always have been
And for once
I'm doing something sane.

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Broken Beauty

I'm clueless as to what to write. Father, inhabit my words. So much has transpired since I last wrote ... which is one of the main reasons I haven't written. I've been busy, & in such a whirlwind season of growth, that I feel like I would have to revise my update every day, as I learn more & more ... experience more.
And I've decided that this reality might just be okay. Even if I never become a professional at keeping things up to date.
There are some parts of this season that have yet to come to completion ... I can't share about them just yet. And, honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever share them from this place. Maybe stop by my house for coffee in a couple months. We'll talk.
Where do I begin? Ah. Five weeks ago. That seems like the logical spot. When everything fell, & I with it.
As I think about this, trying to go back to that week, it dawns on me ... though my keyboard went untouched during that time, my paper did not ...

{November 8th, 2014}

It's hard to crave quiet in a house full of loud. Hard to crave comfort when a body writhes with pain. It's hard to crave safety when it seems safety is ripped from one's hands. To breathe with a bruised chest. Walk with a hurt hip. Feel beautiful with a busted mouth & a broken tooth.
And it's painful to write when you feel like this.
But that is why I must.
Words are my oxygen ... writing, as vital as breath.
Only, I haven't the faintest idea of what I should write.
Judy Garland is singing ... telling me that next year all our troubles will be miles away ... & next year is what seems so far away. Tomorrow seems so far away. In fact, I'm dizzied, just counting the hours 'til tonight, when I'll sleep.
And oh, how I need to sleep.
They tell me who I am ... reminding me, because they know how desperate I get ... how messed up my mind can be. How quickly I forget.
When I laid there on the ground, where I had fallen, I wept. Shaking, breaking sobs.
Ordinarily, when I hurt myself, I'm embarrassed. I get back on my feet as quickly as possible, & I pretend it doesn't affect me until the pain completely overwhelms me.
This day was different. I had slept for four hours, worked for ten. I was faced with painful issues & left emotionally & physically exhausted. I tried to sleep, & I did, for a bit, but the noise eventually woke me. So, later, I tried to sleep again. I was in tears, headed to my room, when my sister suggested I stay in hers ... we both knew I needed her, so I agreed. I went to grab my essentials - Bible, pillow, fuzzy blanket.
Walking down the stairs, the fatigue made me lose my balance. I slid, face-first, down most of the 14 steps, landing on my mouth, having hit the hardwood floor.
As I laid there, my mind wasn't yet registering all of the pain I was in. That wasn't my issue. Part of me was angry. Just one more thing to ruin my day - really? I was headed to snuggle with my sister. I didn't need this. Part of me was scared, vulnerable, & trembling. I felt unsafe. Like everything in the world had slipped from under me, not just my feet. My room, my home, my blanket, my plans ... all these were things that made me feel safe. I didn't feel safe any longer. I felt like those things had failed me.
And then I felt the gap between my teeth. I realized that I had broken or lost one. I knew that I would be covered with bruises by & by. And that wouldn't be pretty, but bruises are pardonable. I have a confession to make. It's a very painful one. I have idolized beauty, & I have made myself up to be a judge of what is beautiful & what isn't. Who is & isn't. I've always struggled with self-image because of these standards, but, at the same time, I've always been told I was beautiful. To me, breaking a tooth meant breaking my smile ... & breaking my smile meant breaking my beauty. And that's what hurt the most when I fell: my pride. It was startling to me, how fast my vanity flared. I hadn't expected that. Maybe that was my problem. I forgot how utterly depraved & human I am apart from Jesus.
I tried not to smile for the rest of the night. I vowed I wouldn't leave the house until my dentist appointment. The next morning, I spoke with a friend, & my heart issues were almost immediately visible to her. She spoke beauty & safety over me, & I cried. She didn't relent. Not for days. My identity was affirmed again & again by those around me. I knew it was the Lord's doing, because there were things that people couldn't have known, shouldn't have known, didn't know. The Lord was speaking, directly to my heart. I was loved well ... embraced, blessed, spoken to. Not neglected in the least. I was able to rest, & then, gift of all gifts, I was able to attend church. I was prayed over. A crowd of people I love, all focusing their prayers on me. Their love, on me. Such Truth they spoke. I felt the embrace of Jesus. I was called precious. Beautiful. Intercessor. Prophetess. They blessed my singing voice. Declared healing over me & the power within me to heal others, in Jesus' name. "And no one is looking down on you because you are young." I was called a light; told that my light expels darkness; that the devil flees scared when I pray & declare that Jesus is Lord. They blessed my sleep. Prayed against nightmares. Warred against the devil, whom they perceived to be attacking me. Surrounded by adults, I was told that my life, my spirit, my humility, were building up that circle of people. They spoke against labels of "clumsy" & "accident-prone," saying that was not my identity, & in the same breath, declared that I was not an accident. That I had a purpose. They dismantled every fear. Brought comfort to every ache. Rubbed balm on my soul. I've never felt so loved.
The manifest Love of the Father.
My identity rooted in Him.