In My Stillness

We fight the stillness,

Trying our hardest to avoid the darkness

And the quiet that it brings,

Because even when we’re screaming in our own minds

For someone to save us from

The crowds of people taking over,

The quiet still seems lonely.

If only I would learn to let you speak.

 

Not just in the moments when the storm is higher

Then I know what to do with,

Or when the walls are too slick

At rock bottom that I can’t pull myself up,

Or the times I feel so lonely,

Forgetting who to turn to when I can’t feel you there.

But, in the moments when I feel you sitting there,

So strongly, waiting,

I can’t help but be anything but still.

 

Even when my mountains crumble,

Yours stay strong,

Screaming their adoration without saying a word,

The ocean crashes against the walls you gave it,

Obeying sometimes more silently than me,

In my stillness I am learning,

I can see, that you do so much of this for me.

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From Where It Comes 

I scream at the mountains
Receiving nothing in reply,
I cry to the river
And it passes without comfort,
I shout to the stars
And they are silent to my plea,
I sit with the flowers
But their petals offer no advice,
I whisper His name
And He’s already there. 

A Place for Lost Things

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Stacked high are the books

of untouched pages,

holding all the words I’ve

forgotten to say every time

I’m with you,

of folded letters with no stamp,

and napkins with poetry just thrown away,

you make me remember

that meaningless chatter,

is like broken glass

in the silence of your company,

my words are never lost on you,

but in you they escape my mind,

never to be heard.

 

To say that it’s been a while since I’ve done any writing is a really sad understatement, and I hate it. I hate it more than anything, because some days I miss it and other days I don’t as much as I want to. I’m sorry for the absence, I really am.

 

Photo Credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/126975507@N05/27152138624/”>alessanyika</a&gt; via <a href=”http://compfight.com”>Compfight</a&gt; <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/help/general/#147″>cc</a&gt;

 

Happiness (n.)

I know I looked at him with so much
awe and wonder,
I might as well have been looking at the stars,
and all he ever saw was the slightest of smiles,
If even that much sometimes.
He was happiness,
Wrapped in human form,
His soul shown so brightly
that every time he smiled
you could see it coming from his eyes,
The funny thing being
that I don’t know if he ever really saw it,
Because he was always so busy
looking for the constellations in everyone else
that he never had time to find them in himself.
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Are You My Father?

How can you be my Father?

When the one on earth

Who is supposed to love me

Can’t even do that.

How can you be my Father?

And show me a love

That I never will deserve.

I will never please you,

And I can’t ever love you enough,

Especially when I can’t grasp

Even a fracture of your wonders.

Can you be my Father?

Show me how it works,

Be my love when I truly have none,

And make me see just what it means

For you to be there for me.

I’m sorry for my faith,

But I don’t know if I can see,

All the love you have for me.

Please, Be my Father.

This particular post is harder for me to share than it was for me to write, and in this case that is saying a lot. A few weeks back in church they touched on the idea of trusting God, especially trusting him as our Father. This concept to me is particularly hard because the earthly father that I know isn’t one that you would ever want to associate with God. So when most people talk about God being our father, I try my hardest to take it lightly and not overthink it. Because if I overthink it, I cannot grasp it as the good thing it’s supposed to be. I know that as a Christian that I am not supposed to admit to such things, but I feel as though I am just scratching the surface even after many years.

The Floor Likes Hugs Too

Quiet? No. In fact I say a lot,

You just don’t listen close enough,

I speak through more than just my words,

And I wish that you could understand,

I hide my face among the clouds,

Lying on the floor

In the bottom of my mind,

Sometimes praying to exist,

I’m the shadow,

I’m the light,

I’m the death of myself,

Never black and never white,

Silence doesn’t have to be sadness,

and sometimes maybe the floor just needs a hug.

People often wonder why it is that I’m so quiet, and I often wonder that myself. But the truth is, the world needs more quiet people, people with loud minds and big imaginations. The world needs more quiet people because there is always someone that needs someone to talk to, someone who will just sit, and listen as they go on and on about the problems of the world until they realize they’ve solved it themselves. Someone to listen without input, who isn’t just listening so that they can respond.

To Paint You

How I wish I could paint the way my heart feels when I look at you,

A living, breathing, life sized work of art,

It’s not just the way your face contorts to happiness,

But the way it fills the air with something so rare,

It can’t be repeated.

I could paint another human easily,

But never could I duplicate the true look of ecstasy that sets fire to a room

with nothing but a breeze to encourage the embers.

She is.

She was a folded flower,

tucked between the paper sheets,

locked in time so he won’t forget the memories.


Her heart was a bottle,

too small to fill,

no matter how much she let go.

There was never enough room for

all the things she wished to fill it with.


Her mind was a light,

hidden in the clouds,

among shadows,

she was,

but never was herself.


Oh, but

She is…

I have a Monster

Not all monsters have faces

or live under beds

their favorite place,

in fact

is the closet,

or at least the one inside my head

making their bed,

just out of view,

so the only one seeing him

will forever be you.

He sad he didn’t believe in monsters

I laughed and told him never

to look me in the eye.

I don’t know when it decided to stay but it’s made itself at home,

trying to hide the light with the brown curtain hanging inside,

not coming out, nor all the way in,

my head has thrown it a welcome party,

while my heart drew up the eviction notice,

not welcome to stay,

but not willing to go,

the monsters not in the closet,

it’s inside my head.

What are Shadows, if not only an Allusion?

Light is never dark and dark is never light.In the cracks of time you’ll never find a galaxy of two. The stars are not darkened by the night, nor the night made whole because of the light. But where the star stands can never be black, its light is too strong to ever go out. The dark gives allusions in the dead of itself, sending shadows to fight nothing but the light. But what the darkness doesn’t know is the light only lets it cast shadows when there’s something to bump into.