December 29, 2013

On Honesty.

There is no difference.
Lies are tricky. Little ones, big ones, ones you just spit out to get someone off your back, or to avoid an in depth conversation.
Maybe you’re a hider. Maybe you like to hide things in fear of opposing opinion, so you say little lies to inquiring eyes. You mean nothing of it, you mean no hurt, you mean no sting, but its still there, it’s been found, seen, its been taken in by the wrong eyes. Not the inquiring, greedy ones, but the loving ones. The loving eyes who look at you as home. As refuge. The loving eyes who look at you with more love than they actually have to give, but they still give all they have to show you they do.. they do, they do, they do love you. 

Lies, neither catastrophic or petty, or easy to wipe away from loving eyes.  

May 21, 2013

Of Breakdowns and God.

I sit up. I breathe for a minute. I lift my shaking hands to my face. I push my tear-wet hair back with weak fingertips. I pull pieces of matted hair off my chin. I push the tears back away from my swollen eyes and hold my fingertips to the puffy skin under my eyes. My neck is wet, my chest, my baby hairs. I slowly pull my legs around and cross them. My head is just too heavy to lift right now, but I open my eyes. Theres a little blood on my knee and some on the bathroom floor. I dont wish him to see me like this, tho he watched the whole thing. I’m embarrassed. I feel the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt. I always do infront of him. I hate my breakdowns. Espcially infront of him.

I can see him out of my peripheral vision. Hes sitting on the floor leaning on the wall. His knees are up. His arms are resting on his knees, but on hand is grabbing his chin. Hes watching me. Hes not moving. Just staring. I can tell his heart is racing by how heavy his chest is moving when he breathes. We sit in thick silence. That was a hard one. My chin starts to quiver and tears seep.

“please go…” I manage to whisper.
He says nothing. He doesnt move.
“please…”

I lift my head and my eyes meet his. His eyes are deep and searching and intentional and they always take me by suprise, regardless the situation. His eyes are so deliberate and sensational and pleading and soft. His face is serious and panged with exhaustion. His brows are furrowed and the panes of his face bare straight lines from where his tears trampled his skin. He keeps staring, but I have to look away. He lets a deep breath out and drops his head to grab his hair and push it back. I rarely see him this distraught. I never see him this distraught unless its because of me.. of my episodes. Hes never at a loss of what to do, but when it comes to this, he feels helpless. Maybe even hopeless. And its always only becuse of the messes I make.

“just go.”
-no.
….
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I didnt mean what I said. Its just… I’m just… I’m sor-”
-Stop. You can’t hurt me enough for me to leave. You know this.
“you’re mad, arn’t you? ..please don’t be mad.”
He sighs. -Its hard to stay mad at you, but yea. I’m mad. I’m mad that you forget about me. I’m mad that you can live your life without me. I’m mad that the only time you ever want me around is when you’re losing control of your heart and your mind. I’m mad that you never open the doors for me.. it makes me feel unwelcome. Thats why I dont bother asking if I can come over anymore. But then, when I hear you screaming for me? when I hear you wailing in pain and I hear you thrashing yourself around? I can’t help myself. I can’t help myself, Gabrielle… I have to come. I have to be here. I have to sit here with you and I have to because I love you too much not to come. I’m yours. And you’re mine. Even when you don’t want me…

He doesn’t say much, but when he does.. its enough to murder me with guilt.
“I want you..” I plead.

Those words come from the marrow in my bones and are cloaked in pain and weigh heavy with desire for his approval. I want him so bad it hurts. I don’t like upsetting him. I hate myself when I do. He doesnt deserve this. I dont deserve him.
When he doesnt respond, I start to cry. I wipe the tears away with the back of my wrists. He gently takes me by forearms and pulls me into him. I can’t help the feeling of securtiy when he pulls me closer to him. I give in and collapse on his shoulder. He moves his legs closer to me, cradling my weight with his legs. He smells like the bedsheets of my soul. His skin is so warm, almost too warm. His jaw flexes and he leans his head back to the wall. He twirls a piece of my hair. Right here, right where I’m supposed to be, I feel loved. Like I was meant. As if I am on purpose.

-I want you, too. All the time. When I’m not around, its not because I don’t want to be. I want to waste all my time with you. I know your breakdowns, but I dont know what to do except sit here with you. And quit telling me to leave. Because I wont. Let me stay here with you. Let me be apart of you. Just please, let me take care of you. I know we have eternity, but let me be here until then. I love you, Gabrielle…

Oneday, it’ll be worth it. Oneday, your breakdowns will earn merit, your hatred for confusion will be soothed and confusion will be no more. Oneday, you’ll know peace like you’ve never felt… we all will.
I promise, you’ll be with me when I burn this world.

February 20, 2013

Rabbit and Fox: A Love Story.

“Good job trapping me in this hole.”
Said Rabbit to Fox.
“But ye cannot trap my soul. Rip back my fur-lined skin, let my blood run thin. I cannot bound further, I accept, I will make thine belly thicker, but before my death, might I ask of thee this one request?”

Drooling from her fangs, shanking from hunger’s pangs, fox steps back, stunned by food’s brave attack.

Then haunched rabbit, murmming his soft plea…
“Make it quick, I beg of thee. I am old and I’ve survived many colds. I’ve fought your father, but alas, I have not the strength to fight his daughter. You see my tears are swelling, tis true, I’m scared of this deathly passing. My flesh is yours to feast, this heart? it shall no longer beat, but be ye gentle? Be ye humble? Enjoy me, I can hear thine stomach grumble. And After ye have licked thine lips and lapped my blood, take notice of how high my soul has sprung. The snow is deep, but my soul is deeper. The air is frigid, but it is not my soul’s keeper. Your fangs might sear, but my soul is far from near. It is far, far from here. This soul of mine will be hard to find, but truthfully I pray to thee, I hope ye are not blind.  I pray ye find rest from this snow’s wretched quest. I do not mind being thine, but pray, find that soul of mine. It knows warmth and peace I cannot preach. It knows the colors of unseen flowers, but most importantly,  it knows all of Heaven’s powers. My body shows of no knowledge, but that soul of mine, it knows all hope and love divine. I pray ye are not blind, find that soul of mine.”

With failed restraint, Fox begins to quake. Her gaze shifts. Breaks. Tears take over her hungry face. Her fur beneath her eyes are flooded by all of love’s suprising triumph. Her lips uncurl and her heart unfurls and what comes forth, changes the world…

“Rabbit, your soul is everything I seek. Might I find it without death’s peak? With your prayer, my hunger I can bear. It is my soul I’m needing to feed, and if thine words be true, it is all my belly needs. But I cannot move ye to death, instead keep thy breath. Might I find another way of finding thy soul’s escape?”

“I wish it differently, tis true, but my love runs deeper thru and thru. Feed thee me and blessed be, your soul’s salvation set free.”

With tears in both their eyes, now blinded by pure love’s disguise. No longer doth it matter who they are, for pure love is no longer far. With a gentle snap of rabbit’s neck and with humble scarifice served, both Rabbit and Fox are bound together by love’s strongest nerve. And because of Rabbit’s ultimate giving, Fox now feels his grace unheeding. She spilt his blood, she lay in the flood. Her wailing heard, Rabbit’s soul undisturbed. Her guilt rocks her to sleep, but his soul she will always keep.

September 14, 2012

and this is illness.

-

it lay there on it’s fine china, in all it’s glutton and calls me a whore and tells me to thank him when I die.

it stares at me waiting. and when i choke and can’t breath, it laughs it’s belly laugh.

-

and then night comes and God is gone and voices are left unheard.

because sin breaks the telephone cord.

-

in darkness it growls at me.
laps up my blood with all its lust.

-

and then bones show and pictures cant lie.
and im not doing this on purpose
but i cant seem to get my fingers around the handle right.

-

i read and read and some say its lack of blood flow to certain regions of the brain.
and then i pray and hope that maybe this is true.
with truth comes cures

that maybe this isnt something forever.

-

i paint my nails just to pick the polish off.
just to keep my hands doing something.

[ this is illness. ]

-

August 11, 2012

{ … }

“there is nothing greater than ones own. there is not one thing greater than the ones who love you. there is nothing greater than that of an emptied full heart.”
she said to me thru paper written letters. envelopes with ink stained smears.
i sit. stare. i didnt understand.
emptied full?
corners were bent in my mind over this. emptied full. i let silence actually soak in.
its raining outside. doesnt it always seem to rain when these corners form.
the pack of eight coyotes howl and wine. I know so because they lounge in my yard at midnight.

the owl hoots.
i smiled at the memory of husband’s laughs in the darkness of a man-filled blanket covered bed as I lean out the window and hoot back.
we have genuine rhythm that owl and i.

emptied full.
the candle flickers with gentle vigor. this toddler scratched old wooden table wobbles when I collapse in hands propped up by elbows.
midnight comes to angrily.
pulling annoying baby hairs back and slamming internet life drainers closed, I visualize the words “emptied full.”
and then His voice booms in with the thunder.
the true Thor.

emptied full. when the only pennies left are given to the tired man on the corner.
emptied full. when i have nothing left and still get out of bed to sooth scared boy.
emptied full. when words release and emotions hang in the balance of fear and relief.
emptied full. when gratefullness and guilt sink in together like ink and water at the smell of man. ones deeply loved don’t have this.
emptied full. when i realize how selfish this body and mind are and crumble at the humbleness of every. single. blessing.
emptied full. when heart is swollen at the thought that having everything is nothing to Him.

emptied full. when He takes my thoughts and repleces them with His.
emptied full. when He takes His Hands and pulls out of these cracked chest bones the embers of passion.
emptied full. when He looks deeper in my eyes and sees what I can’t.
emptied full. when he whispers, “you will be with me when I burn this world.”

 

emptied full. knowing this is not my Home.

 

 

July 20, 2012

home.

you smell like cedar.
pine.
rain.
sweat.

you taste like a thousand breaths I cant seem to take.

you’re familiar. warm.
I know you.

we lay here. you and I.
you on your side, holding your head up with your hand.
me, on my back, as close to you as I can be.
my head turned into you chest.

your leg laying between mine. my feet touching yours.
you push my hair behind my ear and expose my skin.
trace your finger the length of my clavicle.
your eyes are soft and deep.

your heartbeat resinates thru my veins.

quiet. easy.

“shh.” and you push the forming crease on my chin smooth with your thumb.
I bury my face in deeper to your chest.
“shh.” and you push the tear back from my eye. nose. lips.

I wrap my arm around your torso and pull myself into you.
my nose and lips under your chin. resting on you neck.
the smell of you.
you lay your head down and push your arm beneath my head.
your other arm holds me. swallows me.

we lay, facing each other’s soul.
knotted. your skin on mine.
if rooms can breath emotion… then this place is whole.

I will never need air, as long as I can beathe you.

May 25, 2012

The Flooding.

I make room and move my mind to the side.
letting my heart move and work and soak in.
I maneuver my words thru my teeth and try to comfort.
I let it all come in. all of it.
I let the ocean flood in.
I let it, for at that particular time, it needed me.
for what seemed like hours of caring and loving and being there..
is now all out with the tide.
somewhere lost on the other side of the waves.

and just like that.
gone.
the flooding swallows all I had to give and takes it with him.

Image

March 16, 2012

[ of angels of rain ]

sitting in the gray fog from the window.
she crosses her arms and holds her shoulders.
hanging on her clavicles.
she wonders if the sing song rhyme is true..

what if the raindrops are really the angels crying?

it makes sense. maybe she has a child’s perspective of all things extraterrestrial, but she believes the angels above, the God she wonders about, all the lost loved ones… she believes they can see us from heaven. She believes they swim thru clouds for fun and press loving foreheads with the lions.  she believes they come down here every once in awhile and kiss our tear soaked cheeks, come from behind us and wrap their holy ghost arms around us, tuck us in one last time….  

and maybe its only becuase shes human and knows nothing else, but she believes they have sad days too. days when they just can’t take the sadness of earth below them. and they weep. because maybe they see how sad we are and how much we just want to see them. the angels. our loved ones. maybe they arent sad tears, but knowing tears. like when baby falls and you cry sad knowing tears because you know hes okay, but you just cant take the pain of seeing him hurt. maybe this is the rain that falls. knowing tears of a more beautiful life awaiting.

He maybe built this place with His own hands, but He moved out a long time ago. 

there is nothing left on earth as it is in heaven…

 

 

 

 

January 23, 2012

Midnight’s Sonnet.

And what of narwhals?
And if they could speak, what stories would they tell? And if these are real, then there must be unicorns. 

And of the night? As if it were but a piece of velvet fabric with holes poked thru.

And what of this skin I’m draped in? Who first wore this robe? Whose history am I wearing? And what of the Indian woman who fell in love with the man from France, who bore his son and began this lineage that is me? Who have I passed on to my son?

And if my great-grandmother’s great-grandmother were my age now, would we get along? Would I bare her deep doe eyes and would she my rebellion?
 
“My face is a mosaic of the ones before it…” the girl said. I think of this mosaic that is me. This mosaic of hard times, of pirates, of corsets, of prarie women, of men of the first war, of children who grew to see the future of automobiles and lightbulbs. I am a fiber thread together by their hopes and dreams.

And then I stare hopelessly at the stranger in the looking glass.

And if You’re coming back, why are You waiting? And what of free will? And if You’re waiting until Your last child finds You, when will You ever return? Isnt free will the one thing You left to us? The one thing You are unsure of? And if You argue that You know everything, then are we all predestined? If you claim Y0u know all, but leave free will to us, then why keep us in this limbo? Why wouldnt You just make it as it will be? And then I’m left to wonder… Am I really going to Heaven when I end?

And what is love and why are we bound to it’s rules? And is there really just one soulmate for each of us, or are we really capable of loving many others? As many as we need? Because we are, afterall, brothers. Brothers linked back to a leaf and an apple.

And what of Adam and that Secret Garden? I shake my fist at a booked claimed Holy and hot tears stain and blood bleeds from bit lips as I try my hardest to understand this Holy of thousands of white pages trimmed in gold full of black and red letters. And as much as I want and as hard as I try, I can’t make it’s sense.  And I try to find You there. And then theres Adam. He sat at a pond’s edge with You.  And this makes confusion and blood and hot even more. 

I want to take off all my clothes and lay my back to the sand and feel. I want to feel until tears seep from their gathering place…
I want to feel until I see narwhals in the velvet.

January 15, 2012

Wanderling.

I lay. Looking up at the gilded fairies that dance in the window sun.  Before now, thats what they’ve always been. Gilded little sun fairies. Before now, they held more magic then C.S. Lewis.

Now its just dust. 

Truth seeped into my head thru ways of sticks and stones. But the words?  Whoever said words dont hurt… well, I wish I lived in their wonderland.  The words are what broke my bones.

I remember trying to count them… all those swirling, dancing fairies that floated above my head. I remember wondering what it would be like to just be one of them. A wanderling. A lost and fluttering tiny soul just being happy with the sun.

As I sit up, my wreckless hair disturbs and gold is sent flying out of control. Funny how close real life parallels such wonder…. once you move. you disrupt.

But maybe thats what makes life so much more, because the gilded sun specks never actually leave. They just get throw and tossed and then, once gathered, they keep on glittering. In silence. In beauty. In simplness. In happy.

Sitting in the window sun, reflecting on my disruption, focusing on the silence, the beauty, the simplness, the happy of life.

 

  

 

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