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Posted by on May 8, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Quiet Pain

I will just sit here.

And wait till the storm passes

For now there is not much to do but pray

I listen to the tap of rain

As I watch the dark lines blur in the half-light

And my mind throbs

And my heart refuses to open its eyes

And glance upon this barren wasteland

Maybe this storm will bring peace

I have seen the grass grow after drought and flood

I would like to believe it was possible here, too

Here where I hear the lightning and see the thunder

Here where my mind has crashed

Here where if I look at what I’m seeing,

I’m done for

Here in the aftermath of emotion

Here in the eye of the storm

It’s calm for a moment

But there is still much to go through

Much to accomplish

Much pain to bear

This is a place of blurred lines, a place of confusion

This is a place of wistfulness and discovery

This is a desert as much as it is an ocean

Here in the depths of dryness

(But my pen never runs dry)

I am waiting, not for the storm to end, but for me to begin

Where is my place in this storm?

Do I dance, do I sing?

Do I cry, do I give in?

If life were an analogy, I’d have beat it by now.

Here in the silence, I write

Here in the silence, I think

Here in the silence, I feel

How do I feel?

Right now, with my head.

It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone in a place of uncertainty

Here I do the things which one may do when there is nothing to be done.

I will just sit here.

Coffeeshophorrors

 
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Posted by on March 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

Selfish

When every time you give into your selfishness you see the immediate and destructive results, you learn to grow up fast.

 
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Posted by on December 29, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

I’m Sorry

I want the rain back. I want it so that it can drown out the sound of my tears hitting the mattress. I want it to absorb my mind, run over me, clean me off, put me back on my feet. The cool smell of wet dirt, the cool sound of running water, or tapping water, or falling water, the cool taste of wet asphalt, the cool feel of something besides tears running down my face.

Then I could laugh. I could dance. I could sing.

Laughing or dancing or singing through tears only makes the crying hurt worse. And the pain is growing a little heavy, if you haven’t noticed.

But never mind that. If I don’t drink water maybe I won’t be able to cry. I’ll wait till the heavens pour water directly in my mouth. Until then, I’ll pass.

Or maybe if I don’t eat salty foods, the salt won’t sting in my eyes anymore. Which foods are salty? Well…I guess I just won’t eat.

That’s okay, food isn’t appetizing anymore, anyway.

Maybe if I don’t sleep, I’ll be too tired to remember the reasons…

Oh, the reason I cry.

Whatever. It’s not like I can sleep anyway.

Maybe if I distance myself, they can’t hurt me anymore.

It’s lonely, though.

And that only adds another wound.

I want the rain back, so I can watch the pink water drift away, leaving my wounds clean, uninfected, ready to heal. I want to see something heal. I don’t care if it’s my wounds. Just let someone find healing.

Please.

I’m sorry for my brokenness.

But what could I do?

When they stuck a spear in my side, what was supposed to come out?

Righteousness?

Anger?

Beauty?

Water and blood. That’s what came out.

I’m sorry I couldn’t clean it up before you saw, before it hurt you too.

STOP!

pretending like I’m fine.

I’m not.

And excuse me if you don’t understand.

I just need to cry again, because my theory didn’t work. And the salt still hurts my eyes. And the tears still fall fast and thick, as I wish the rain would. And I can still remember the faces of those who have harmed me, and the faces of those who have ignored me as I lay bleeding on the ground.

I’m sorry…

Just sorry.

Coffeeshophorrors

 
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Posted by on December 23, 2013 in Uncategorized

 
Aside

I don’t even care. enough right now

To write down “how I’m feeling”

Because it’s not great

A;nd it’s not bad

And for some reason

When I break apart

The lines awk—————————————-

Wardly

It makes, it romantic,

P,oetic,

Symb,olic,

But that’s not how I feel! right now

I feel

Pa

Thet

Ic

And Awk

Ward

So I don’t want a Po

Em

To make it look worse or better

I just want it to look

M

Ess

Y

And

Un                                                                      Pre

Dict

Like it is.

Coffeeshophorrors

 
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Posted by on November 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Footprints

Last night I was reading a “prayer journal” entry I’d written a while back:

5/26/13

I just realized how much my life has changed over the past year. My focus has turned completely. I used to be a complete escapist wanna-be author. Now the only thing I write about is God (or homework). I used to have nightmares that haunted me throughout the day. Now I have the Holy Spirit, reminding me of God’s goodness and all-sufficient grace. I read God’s Word consistently and I speak to God.

And I desire to need God more every day. I desire to live in desperation. My prayer right now is not for a life where I do a lot of cool stuff, or even where God does cool stuff through me. My prayer is for a life broken at the feet of Jesus, because the most beautiful things that I have seen in my entire life are broken things.

How much more lovely will they look in Heaven, when they are made whole by God’s grace?

It’s even more true now. In a ridiculously painful way 🙂

Coffeeshophorrors

 
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Posted by on October 27, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

The Divine Echo

Have you ever made a promise to God?

I have, even though, as I said it, I was afraid of breaking it. But at the time, I was confused, and the faith inside me refused to give in. So I made a promise to God, a statement that I absolutely believed. I said, “God, even if you never answer me, even if I never understand why You do what You do, I will continue to seek, to the best of my abilities. I will look for Your answer until the day I die.”

It was the clenching moment where finally I felt like I had said something that landed. You know? When you finally say something that actually expressed what you meant to express.

Of course, God answered. But I still had questions. I still have questions.

And then there’s that endless plea in the heart of a Christian, “Come, Lord Jesus, come.” When you feel too weak, and human, and unholy for God, but still you long for Him to be near–that is your cry. Though, there is a part that cries “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man!”

The divine echo is this: every time your heart has resounded with the desperate call of “God, I will look for you, and seek you, even if I never find!” Or when you’re on your knees as the sound resonates all around you, “COME! BE NEAR ME!”

That was not the voice of your heart, but the very voice of GOD.

He is declaring His faithfulness over you, and your heart, overwhelmed, is letting it echo over and over. The creation natural response to its Creator is simply to bask in His words, as they flow over it in grace. He is calling you to run to Him, to be with Him, to be used by Him in the very situation you desire Him to work in.

Amen and Amen.

Coffeeshophorrors

 
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Posted by on August 21, 2013 in Uncategorized