Pine trees may seem
imposing,
with bark and needles,
powerful.
Oak trees are more
inviting,
sprawled out branches
to climb on.
But when the storm comes,
who falls?
My roots go deep
in rich soil.
My yellow leaves fly
to you.
Shudder in my
fearless wind.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
When you go to hell, be sure to pack a sweater.
If I were a cadaver and some eager medical student were slicing open my torso,
they would be surprised.
They would wonder how I looked so flush when the blood in my veins was still, stagnant,
with nothing to pump it through
To the liver and lung and bowel and sinew, the ones that I give to you,
because they are what's left.
And since they serve no function in this hollow, stuffed (wo)man who cannot bleed,
who got cut too deep,
Why don't you toss them aside on some highway or alleyway or playground,
so the birds can have a nibble,
Just like I could throw you aside, you and everyone else that passes by,
without a second glance
And I'll stitch myself up (very slender without all those pesky organs) and keep walking,
looking like I have the ability to care.
they would be surprised.
They would wonder how I looked so flush when the blood in my veins was still, stagnant,
with nothing to pump it through
To the liver and lung and bowel and sinew, the ones that I give to you,
because they are what's left.
And since they serve no function in this hollow, stuffed (wo)man who cannot bleed,
who got cut too deep,
Why don't you toss them aside on some highway or alleyway or playground,
so the birds can have a nibble,
Just like I could throw you aside, you and everyone else that passes by,
without a second glance
And I'll stitch myself up (very slender without all those pesky organs) and keep walking,
looking like I have the ability to care.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
How Do You Love the Unloveable?
To be loved, you must first love, and be loveable.
Well, sir. I have discovered there is, in me, something utterly unloveable. I hope I am spelling that word correctly.
Anyway, I have not been anywhere close to my best the last few days. It seems like everything I do is the opposite of everything I know I should do. I tell myself to eat healthy, and end up snacking on candy corn pumpkins. I know I need 8 hours of sleep, and I stay up aimlessly until even 6 is out of reach. I want to spend more time focusing on God, and I facebook instead. I want to be more positive and energetic, but I curse everything and mentally check out as soon as my jazz class starts to get difficult. I am tired, cranky, apathetic, and acne-scarred. Why would anyone love me?
Yet, someone does. Someone infinite and perfect loves someone fallible and transient. It blows my mind, and is often difficult to accept. But I must get beyond the idea of meriting love, and let grace sweep in and lift me up. And with that support, I must look beyond the unloveable in others and see the love that created them, and perhaps they will be able to do the same.
Well, sir. I have discovered there is, in me, something utterly unloveable. I hope I am spelling that word correctly.
Anyway, I have not been anywhere close to my best the last few days. It seems like everything I do is the opposite of everything I know I should do. I tell myself to eat healthy, and end up snacking on candy corn pumpkins. I know I need 8 hours of sleep, and I stay up aimlessly until even 6 is out of reach. I want to spend more time focusing on God, and I facebook instead. I want to be more positive and energetic, but I curse everything and mentally check out as soon as my jazz class starts to get difficult. I am tired, cranky, apathetic, and acne-scarred. Why would anyone love me?
Yet, someone does. Someone infinite and perfect loves someone fallible and transient. It blows my mind, and is often difficult to accept. But I must get beyond the idea of meriting love, and let grace sweep in and lift me up. And with that support, I must look beyond the unloveable in others and see the love that created them, and perhaps they will be able to do the same.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
If you want to sing out, sing out, and be free
Who writes a blog at 5 am? I do!
But you see, I had an enlightening conversation last night and I thought I would share a little bit of the wisdom I acquired from a friend of mine.
In the middle of the conversation, I blurted out that I was going to make this particular friend (or whatever you may call him) a mix CD. Then I started going on and on about Fleet Foxes and how I can't stop smiling while I'm walking down the street listening to their music. Then somehow it got on the subject of singing, and I revealed the little moment of car hymn time I had the previous evening. Mr. Wise-Man-With-Great-Laugh concurred with the love of singing in cars and showers, but then suggested something more.
He said that perhaps we sing what we want to be. We may listen to a lot of music, but if we ACTIVELY sing, we are more likely to emulate the words that flow from our lips. I have often been a listener in life. I soak in knowledge like a sponge, and for a while now I have been able to accept that knowledge in my heart as true. Yet my mouth has been shut and my hands and feet bound with the chains of inaction. Lately, it has been put on my heart that without action, my faith is but a shell of what it could be. I find that in order to mature, I must not only search for truth and keep it on my mind at all times, the truth I find must show forth in my life, in how I treat others, in my behaviors, in the words that pass from my lips, and in the face that I present to the world. I must SING, must DO, what I want to BE.
But you see, I had an enlightening conversation last night and I thought I would share a little bit of the wisdom I acquired from a friend of mine.
In the middle of the conversation, I blurted out that I was going to make this particular friend (or whatever you may call him) a mix CD. Then I started going on and on about Fleet Foxes and how I can't stop smiling while I'm walking down the street listening to their music. Then somehow it got on the subject of singing, and I revealed the little moment of car hymn time I had the previous evening. Mr. Wise-Man-With-Great-Laugh concurred with the love of singing in cars and showers, but then suggested something more.
He said that perhaps we sing what we want to be. We may listen to a lot of music, but if we ACTIVELY sing, we are more likely to emulate the words that flow from our lips. I have often been a listener in life. I soak in knowledge like a sponge, and for a while now I have been able to accept that knowledge in my heart as true. Yet my mouth has been shut and my hands and feet bound with the chains of inaction. Lately, it has been put on my heart that without action, my faith is but a shell of what it could be. I find that in order to mature, I must not only search for truth and keep it on my mind at all times, the truth I find must show forth in my life, in how I treat others, in my behaviors, in the words that pass from my lips, and in the face that I present to the world. I must SING, must DO, what I want to BE.
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