Monday, February 7, 2011

"It's easy to let something go when you know you're gonna get it back."

Good thing I like a challenge.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Cathedrals

concerts play cathedrals, you know
the vaulted ceilings encasing hearts and harmonies alike,
for both heartstrings and harpstrings play echoing tunes.
sing-alongs at the tops of lungs
remain poster children for uninhibited unity,
and encore applause is one thousand times one thousand spirits saying,
"I beg of you. Don't be through with me yet."

a sea of lighters, a sea of devotion,
a fight for light.
a fight for the unextinguishable.
flickering fireflies
communicating wordlessly,
"I would nothing short of burn for you."

to take the offering from its place of worship
blasphemy
for splitting what grew together is unnatural--
fellowship loses strength as the venue retreats,
and communion becomes commonplace
once exit lights taint the elements.

to look across a sea of faces whose lips sync the same song
is to look across a sea of souls whose voices speak,
apprehensively,
[for uninhibited unity is too baring not to notice],
of a similar wish:
to love another with the vibrance of a spotlight.

to praise another with the awe of a frontman
who sees no empty seats.
but the encore ends
and the curtains clap
and the exits open
and the congregation shuffles into the streets.

the vulnerability is both terrifying
and life saving.
beautifully,
the disciples' procession shifts in unison,
for they know this feeling's end as masterfully as its beginning,
and to know a feeling's end is to expect the feeling again.

dreams intersect where eyes do
as seemingly telepathic vows bounce between minds.
the experience is impossible to resurrect entirely,
but they must try.
not one ventures to define the risen,
but all refuse to die.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Climbed A Mountain

I was thinking about moving forward with people who have hurt you, and likened the experience to slowly adding hot water to a shower; ideally, the water gets hotter at the same rate you're adapting to it. The struggle with forgiveness is that the water is getting hotter a tad bit faster than your heart can stand. Not enough to harm you, but enough to cause discomfort. The thing is, not liking to handle something isn't the same as not being able to handle something. Now that my heart has been forced to burn more often than expected, my adaptation rate has changed. At this point, I feel the need to be exposed to just enough disillusionment and loneliness and heartache to cause discomfort. The trends of happiness, then, aren't weakened, but strengthened by the back and forth of it all.

"Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well I've been afraid of changing
Cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older, too."

Ohh, Fleetwood Mac. How often I took this song for granted.
[Joni Mitchell pandora station FTW {for the win...}]

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Perpetuum


Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you! :)

****

My power playlist: 1) New Morning - Alpha Rev
2) Riverside - Agnes Obel
3) Jar of Hearts - Christina Perri
4) Apologize - OneRepublic
5) repeat, haha

***

I'm a very unsettling combination of happy and empty, fulfilled and chaotic, confused and peaceful. I feel like I'm supposed to be having the time of my life, but I'm too aware of that fact to be having it. Also, it's frickin freezing up here. I'm a little hermit because venturing outdoors is like torture. I can't wait for spring.

**

I'm reinvesting myself bit by bit, and it's exhilarating. I find myself wondering how I ended up here, but I know the answer so well, my mind chants it to my soul.

*

It's going to be a few years until I meet him. He's with somebody right now. I hope that his heart doesn't break too badly when he gets out of it, but regardless, the edges of mine will be waiting for the edges of his. I pray for him every day. Knowing that He knows both of us is enough knowledge for now. It has to be.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Frost

the eaves bend as a gardening back might,
responding to the snow’s weight with surprising resilience.
footprints below harken to a journey northward
or westward or backward because she never was good with directions.

the chill outside is as striking as the chill within
the vapor before her face pumping in rapid spurts,
warm breath quickening with her pace.
there are miles to go before she sleeps
sleeps
sleeps.

the sun is bright but no warmer,
like a candle behind glass
or an advert’s smile.
she warms her ears with promises instead.

in too deep?
feet in snow, heart in the future
the same chill that numbs her toes
preserves a cracking heart

preserves an exemplified ideal
like a zoomed-in-on snowflake.
no two utopias are alike--
one will surely melt first.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Wait, I don't get it

Surely I don't give the impression that I can't be dealt with in a straightforward manner.

I know why I overestimated you, but good God. Stop underestimating me.

Monday, January 17, 2011

42: Medium Auburn

I say to God my Rock,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?”
My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
“Where is your God?”

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

--Psalm 42:9-11

***

I'm baa-aaack. Back in business. The business of wondering and worrying. I was thinking today that having lived for long enough to look back on life is unsettling. I'm talking about a sensation bigger than memory...I felt a strange mix today of wanting to live life on my own again and wanting to never live on my own ever again. This chunk of my life, these next four months, will present the most emotional solitude I've ever had. It's liberating, it's frightening, it's revealing, it's humbling. ...or perhaps the opposite. I'll let you know.

Restlessness is not a virtue. Nope nope nope.

This semester is a big game of now what.

You'll probably be able to answer that before I can.