brin lael

as the embers kiss the sky

2023-07-25T16:39:00.001-06:00

watch their firefly eyes dance in rhythm as we sit
around here, this soft firepit where we all make our home
"i," i think as i soak in the scene. "probably won't remember this moment
when i am old."
but, the thought does not upset me. contentment draws near
to my chest, for not all moments need to be graven in time.

someday

2023-05-19T15:38:00.002-06:00

isn't it funny, the song of today?
you're written in the back of my eyelids, almost mistaken as a dream,
yet still a memory.
i almost sent you a melody that sounded like you, forgetting
that you wouldn't like to hear from me. i promise it'll all be new again someday
(i whisper that last part to myself).

we ruined bob ross paintings in my kitchen,
giggling in between the sunlight coming in.
"i know all about drugs," she slipped in. and i'm still learning to be new again,
whispered her gentle hands.
grace is not preoccupied with the prideful, so we bend our knees in the resumption.

do you ever have those moments, where you think back to certain days,
and the memory feels like you died a thousand deaths?
i see fury, i see bitterness, yet it is all sopped with the acquaintance of loneliness.
how is it we can be face to face with a close God
yet have swollen fists and bloody eyes?

find your answer in his side, thomas.
in the scars on his brow. how can a son bear the weight of a close God who turns his face away?
because grace is not preoccupied with the prideful, and it takes
sacrifice to make all things new again.
isn't it funny, the song of today?
it speaks of someday.

hey friends!!!

just got married, moved to a new state down the road from some friends, got our first apartment (!!), and might be training for my first marathon ever. :) life is grand. hope all is well with you.

november 2

2022-05-22T19:43:00.001-06:00

i lost you some

where

in the fog between last winter and this summer

i reach for you, but my grasp falls

short

rushing, arms flailing, i keep pulling in the rope that

once tied me fast to

you

when i reach the end it's

cut

your silhouette ripples out of my

view and i'm left with no good goodbye and only a crumpled heart

i screamed in his arms

when you left your hard bitten words in my hands

as if every single year we had meant nothing to you

~~i'm alone~~ i tried to scratch out every untruth in the absence

joseph, continuous in my head

no, you're not

it's been months

since

propinquity.

i smooth out the crinkles in my crumpled heart. it looks better than it did in august,

but there is no erasing

the canyons that agony carves.

altruism peeks out from the crevices. not spirit of my flesh,

but flesh of the Spirit, coming to mend the fissures

brought by wreckage.

in my memory, i am speaking, yet all i see is my moving mouth.

like those childhood nightmares, it is

silent.

requital has become a lost art. although, maybe i was chasing after things that had already departed.

did your farewell disappear into the void? did i sweep it away without notice?

was it voiced to me, yet went over my head?

this misunderstanding cuts into my pharynx on the way down.

i taste fresh blood any time i dwell upon this

unclosed case.

how do you love when you're supposed to let go of love?

i miss you so -

2021-09-05T18:09:00.000-06:00

i miss you so
much the tide in my heart

hasn't stopped dropping.

i know you are not out at sea,

yet i spend my time writing

love notes in glass bottles

and chucking them as far as i can.

i find them on the shore,

later, when i am aching,

as the water leaves them behind.

i look for

you in everything. as if

you'll be there when i turn the corner.

you aren't gone. forever, that is. you

will come back, but i keep opening

my mouth to say something to

you then close it softly.

lovesick fills your absence within

me. it is a tender, sensitive thing

to juggle with.

if i'm not careful, it sneaks out

of the corner of my eyes and

wets my cheeks.

i miss you so

my love.

it is written all over the way i grieve

every ordinary goodbye.

so far

2021-03-13T21:54:00.003-07:00

january.

started off with you. a warm day tucked right into the pages of winter. heart going through high tides and low tides. i didn't declare a new year then. i didn't quite feel myself, yet i couldn't tell you exactly what was different. i cried when they were to my back and wiped off my tears before i turned around. i hid the bleeding wounds of my heart... yet, yet, yet. disappointment can be a doorway into grace.
roses looked up at me with their blushing faces reflecting mine. so many roses. and the sky would blush in the evening when i would step out of work too, tired eyes staying awake just a little bit longer before the sun took her rest. it spoke of spring coming. i hoped before i even knew it was hope.
right before it tipped into the next month, scrutiny slipped into my arms and cut me quick. i was left gasping for air and i spent three nights sobbing before i fell asleep. i can't present my words clearly and as readily as a lot of people can. there are days when your weaknesses are used against you. take the hit, control your breathing, and then move on.

february.

the deepest inhale that drops fast and slick to the bottom of my lungs and cleans everything out on the way down. i felt like myself again. looked into their little faces and loved them before i even had a chance to step away. belonging. there is a belonging you feel when your passion is being fulfilled. scream that the Lord is faithful into the night sky. i sacrificed sunsets for longer hours and it was a good, good thing. i hardly even noticed i was missing them. afternoons were spent running around a parking lot, hot sun beating down.
restored. there is blessing in obedience, and sometimes it arrives faster than you expect it. i go to look at the wounds january brought and find that there is reason for the breaking and removing. i pray i always look into my Savior's eyes when i can't stop the tears. He knows me. His way is better.
sunday naps in the grass. smiling sunrises with a foot of snow. more roses. excitement and planning for every new day bringing unexpected opportunities.

1/2 march.

fierce hands that hold softly. there is understanding in those who are strong and it will reflect in the way they perceive and react to the things they lack. it was a quiet way to turn older, yet i was so content. there is so much loss that has slowly fallen away. no avalanche. no funeral ceremonies. absence. i'm mourning.
"isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different?" c.s. lewis. i ran my fastest mile ever, couldn't help but have a coughing every time he made me laugh after that because my lungs were dying. my muscles are as toned as they've ever been. this is a peak i'll look back on in twenty years and yearn for.

purposed perspective

2021-02-22T19:56:00.006-07:00

there is a dance within my spirit that has not been there for a long time. these days feel almost nostalgic, flashes of the past blink through my mind too fast for clarity yet slow enough for the idea to stick. purpose shakes my hand and i laugh because, for some reason, i almost feel too inadequate to do what she asks. yet, there is no way i can turn and take a different path. if i've learned anything, it's that footsteps don't work in rewind the same way.

i love living this life.

the perspective you strap to your eyes makes a lot of difference. i have met people who keep their perspective small and focused. friend, that's alright and all, but i want to see more. i want to get a little dirt on the lenses and take it off every once in awhile to clean it using my shirt. there is so much out there. i want to be willing to take my perspective off my face and hand it to another who needs a prescription better than what they had.

every moment is a chance to hand out something that i have been given. i long for the day that i hold nothing back. i know there is so much more to pour out...so much more to lavish, to give in abundance. why do we hold things so tightly to our chests? there is a monotony in standing still, in tight fists, in closed eyes, in refusal. time to swallow bravery and love. it starts in the inner man and will spill out in action in word. smile with gentleness like it's second nature, even though it's not. hold in that complaint until it crumbles into gratitude. look them in the eyes and take time to say something worthwhile, even though no one ever did it for you. the time you have is not as large as you might think, use it well.

but be wise. not everyone will soak in the water you pour out. there is no use spending so much time on someone who will never drink. those type of people are different than the ones who are just hard to love.

love fiercely but don't love purposelessly.

long processor

2021-01-14T23:43:00.000-07:00

my hands rub raw off the holds, so i give in before 8 and we head

home - is different every time i get back. i take the switchbacks on the backroads

but it seems they're building houses and the fields aren't as empty anymore.

i'm trying to lay out the problem before me into organized

pieces - is all i see right now. hurt feigned as infliction when in reality

i think it was mostly my fault. i've never been good at apologies and i'm farther

than arms length from anyone who could help me out at the moment.

she screamed in the backseat and the certain pitch broke nothing but my

trust - for some reason i can't put together. it's more than that but less than i know

how to place rightly. i remember being caught breathless by dream lake, the softest

smile within my bones because there's nothing like the rocky

mountains - for her, are something else than they are to me. i realized that a little

too late when i asked if it was worth the hustle and she shook her head,

shook my trust, once again. i wiped away the hurt off my cheeks on the way down.

my heart rubbed raw off the night, so i slid out of my chair before i needed to

turn around. have you ever not been able to hold the tears back? cuts like that bleed

different - is how i wished it turned out. the more settled, the more tight my throat gets

and i'm just riddled with sorry. i can keep the steadiness at surface level, but there are bits

of who i am deep stuck disproportionate. you came to know, but time wasn't on your

side - of disappointment is where we both land, i guess. the depth of my land takes the

strides to learn and to decipher. i would have loved to sit beside you and not before you

to tell you.

there's heart in the way a cowboy knows his hills. there's heart in the way you load

the dishwasher before you go. there's heart in the way a door is softly closed.

there's heart in vulnerability, there's heart in hiding. i am so full of heart i hardly know

how to hold it in. come back again. this time to be, and not to go.

before my eyes

2021-01-08T20:41:00.002-07:00

this year.

(last year.)

my heart is humming a song that pulsates through and through in the way my

eyes dance over the creases in your face. i do not know how to read you,

but i have never been more willing to try. your face isn't a tell-all, so i resort to

your voice, high low, hesitations. your response, quick slow, intact. your hands,

near far, loose.

learning yet not coming close to even a speck of the fullness.

you're a type of river. steady so goes my gaze, and steady so goes the change carving

you constantly. i can grasp the idea, but you run through my hands before my fingers

hit my palm.

i trip up on the stones in your rockbed after wading for so long, and i am struck with

a thought that i hardly know who i am anymore. funny to say that for a girl whose

confidence has only rocketed and started to steady after all these years. the notion doesn't

scare me. if anything, it's a semblance of soft pain. similar to a bleeding heartbeat,

but bleeding is the

wrong concept.

growing pains? oh, i thought those stopped once you hit a certain age. turns out,

it shifts into a different gear and it's not quite so much pajama pants two inches too short

anymore.

still, when i look into your eyes, the song my heart hums is one i cannot silence,

even though it is one i still cannot sing. it is such a wonder to watch you carve

through the dirt and the roots and the mountains and the valleys. it is almost as if

i am tucked within a canoe, traveling upon your waters as each turn speaks

more of you who are. and as it goes unavoidable, each turn molds who i am to

become.

friends! it has been such a long time. many apologies. but!! i finally got my hands on a laptop again and i hope to be settling back into this home of a blog. xx

to love x

2020-06-23T01:35:00.006-06:00

what is it like to love you/.

hands. trace the ridges, the whorls, the valleys

of yours. my, how they are familiar to rugged labor, yet how tender

they become with mine. how kindly they are with

the littles, as you prod their sides and

belly laughter spills forth. how you hold them open to a little

girl's and she clings tight,

and how you use them to throw him up onto your shoulders.

secure yet extending, balancing the unfolding.

ii.

the blurs. two hours on the phone feels like ten minutes,

giving me a taste of the sweet honey of eternity.

last summer scooping water out of the tent,

the memory of who we were still rippling in the water. how fitting.

that's when i knew i loved you, even if it's tucked in a bleary throwback.

lingering calls, moments between you, old car rides.

iii.

unequivocal. removal of uncertainty manifesting trust through

a steady consistency. hand resting to be held. unembellished honesty,

not just in your fixed eyes, but set brightly within your heart.

meeting every morning with your words.

you greet my tangled fear with gentleness

and the knots are safely loosened.

i cried when i opened that package and found

your hoodie tucked neatly in it. you're not always here,

but you're thinking of me.

iv.

the nearness. tucked in close enough to hear the blossom

of your heartbeat. i laugh within the flower fields of

your arms, joking about the frogs when i hear

a gurgle from your stomach. it had been nigh six months before i saw

you in Texas, a dizzy spin goodnight,

leaving my heart swelling to the brim in gladness.

every tired prayer before the sunder of the night. watching your

weary eyes over the phone. commitment of letters.

starry eyed. outside a bar in salida. processing unit 61 on the couch.

parked in my car after church. laying on a driveway in kansas. touring the

cadre barracks. leaning against a boulder in grand mesa. the longer i stare at the murky sky, the more

stars dot the soft milky way. some nights hold the brush of meteors

and other nights are hushed in clouds. each sacred to me

in their distinct apollo 11 ways, each the evincing of your character.

more smitten with you than a star tilling over into

the sweet rebound out of supernova.

impurities

2020-04-24T17:48:00.000-06:00

the turning and compressing of spiritual organs

toss and dream of unsung realities.

is it the cooling of the iron i am bestowed with?

or the churning of the coals?

it's not too bad at all (until it is.)

but i have learned the methods

of getting over it -- getting over

(nothing.)

it is my miner soul but i continue

to just let the stones pile up.

but He --

He collects. He rids the old. He takes

all that is (if surrender is

present in my pocket, to be upon my

sleeve) and He compresses.

gems require the burden of

crushing to find all their

richness. -- so must we,

in the hands of the Lord.

this is just some unmarked journal passage from last summer. probably july.

lack

2020-03-30T21:24:00.000-06:00

the sun sets ever so quietly behind me over the mountains,
but it's dragging a rope with it that's attached to my heart. the farther it falls,
the tighter the rope gets. a chokehold on inner turmoil.
the gold races along their little feet in the grass as they wrestle and tumble. i swing my legs back and forth underneath me,
just watching them. and feeling things i don't even realize i'm feeling.
i'm running through the motions, but it feels like the me now watching through the eyes
of me seventeen. i love them all so much it hurts.
it was a murmur that people with the best virtues make them vulnerable,
yet here am i -
my arms clutched around my ribs, trying to hide the fact my heart is being pulled to pieces.
it hurts so much i might burst, but i cannot let them see.
i want them to know, but the weight of it is something i'm not willing to bear.
i don't want to be like this. i want to be bold and brave, willing to lend my hand to them
without them asking for it. willing to let myself be rejected.
there's something wired in me that retracts and silences.
something within me that makes me sob my eyes out all alone after they leave. because
there was a chance and i feigned blind until it was over.
that doesn't say much about the girl who claims to love (i do. i don't how to make it clear.)
how do i tell you it isn't as easy as you want it to be?
you'll tell me what to do. they will. but you just don't get it.
look through their eyes - a slithering tongue in my mouth, they fall back into a robotic uneasiness that shuts off any chance to make it hit them. they take the path of disconnect,
"it's not for me."
they're broken, don't you see? and i'm over here sniffling behind my hand because i don't know
how to tell them that their certain steps are actually feeble.
the dark greens toss with the small purple wildflowers, and i am handed a bouquet by the little girl
who had been set upon ripping all of them to pieces just minutes before.
just a fragmented art of alteration from rebuke.
in some ways, i am cut from the same cloth as them, stripped even to the bone.
even if it's just a hint of legalism, i take two steps back and almost turn on my heel.
it's not much like living if freedom isn't provided.
i know, i know! you say that's where liberty is most found, but i can't help but feel
claustrophobic in limitations placed.
extend graciousness to my hesitation, for i am not eager to step into the pool of monotonous
that lacks the abundance i know that there is behind sacred truth.
yet don't leave me where i sit! bring me to my weary knees that i may pour out my spikenard
upon the solid feet of Him who is so precious to me - (first yet i was regarded precious, blood spilled
on my behalf).
if it takes the sun with a lasso around my heart to make it spill,
let the noose tighten until every ventricle and atrium rupture into a holy mess.
when called to bleed, may i bleed. when called to weep, may i weep.
when called to die, may i die.
for i know the voice that calls me, and i know that there is plenty given to the one who gives plenty.
less of me, a shaky exhale. less of me.
and more of - who?
Him.

/x

see the way

2019-10-20T21:25:00.000-06:00

see the way, see the way

it all just. fits right into the palm

of the earth

the way the your name is tucked like a caramel in the back of my cheek

as i idle in traffic with the window

down.

i turn the radio up,

trying to drown thoughts about you

again. again

i am tired of the way it's a never-ending

record. as if i haven't

thought about you every day enough already,

this repetition is - getting to, getting to my head.

just a reminder that you're still gone.

i've had the same songs on repeat

since the day that you left.

i remember driving home in the hot afternoon sun -

a day just like today -

crying my eyes out. ( not surprising at all, i do it all the time )

five more minutes.

if i could take it back to the bar, when i was

standing outside with you on the other side of the line

\i was looking at the stars but you were the only thing on my mind-

sorry, i don't mean to be so cheesy, but,

i would have stood there forever, tracing the cracks in the sidewalk

with my feet, shivering on the edge of a goodbye.

if i could take it back---

the radio isn't helping me

forget about you, not even for a split second-

oh, i wouldn't forget about you for a split second.

no, sorry, stop -

i really miss you. that's it.

partial but whole

2019-07-29T21:06:00.000-06:00

i.

and it's like a deflated tire
upon the pavement, yet only i am the
one who seems to notice any of it.
tell me.
the rumble, the herd.
i just want to know.
i am sick - it creeps and haunts
like the loneliness in a parking lot.
still, yet eerie.
these lungs are not rising today -
though i am seeing small things.
the boy is now becoming a man.
steadfast. taller. even more sacrificial.
i weep beside the firs, swimming
through memory and memory of their faces.

learning the art of trying again,
i felt like i had lost all my concrete
burned hands could ever muster.
but now and then the moon
peeks through swallowed clouds and i
think it's the sun come to set again.
mistaken, but hilariously so.

ii.

living.
it runs from the good to the bad.
in my mind, it runs like chevron.
the colors mix, they toss. and it
all comes back together by the
work of His hands. think of it
like kneading bread. the yeast
to make it rise.

living.
this is what it is about.
smeared diamond eyes
peeking at me from underneath rain hoods.
the oxygen feels rich in my mouth.
hardship caught red-handed
amidst a smirk. i'm not one to
show my emotions on my
sleeve, but there are moments
like now.
written like the ebeneezers.

just watch how they dance from
one thing to another, glory arms
they were given. i see him in
the small moments. quietly i sit.
but the compressing pushes
the coals of his character
together - you will know them by
their fruit. so i watch, and so i see.
He who promised He would
complete a good work in you...is faithful.
take a look back.

living.

iii.

laughing into a new day even when my lips are
sealed shut.
i can't remember half of what they said, but i was looking
into their eyes.
i'm still there sometimes.
caught in a glance. stuck in the iris.
i can't help the way they
weave themselves into my heart.
i fall easily,
(but i also get up easily too)
caught up in an uneven
Balance.
i don't mind. i don't mind. my cheeks slip
into a smile because of this love.
blessing in abundance.
bending beneath the weight of His wind
and mercy, oh,
how He loves us.
rough hands in the attic in the middle of the night,
passing cookies like communion.
how He loves us.

/x

winter allergies

2019-05-28T19:00:00.000-06:00

you roll these Tuesdays in the back
of your mouth like the peppermints you've gotten at
restaurants since you were a
child, taking things for granted you swore
you never would.
bitter store signs change
their name and i choke on the smog that's found
its way into the town.

you don't try anymore. and you say
you're not running away, but this slow walk is
more painful. i don't see your face around the corner
anymore. they don't know what you're up to.
it's just me on the end
of a payphone last May being sent to your voicemail next
Fall. they started calling me a stranger
when i wrote different names into the boxes on my
calendar. the vinyl i play on my record-player heart
is one of whistles in the
dark. maybe it'll be the sound that grounds your feet.
or maybe it'll be a l'appel du vide earthquake
and we'll never connect eyes in the
deep ever again.

i keep trying to clear my throat but i cough
out blood lined with the remnants of your
name, like the piece of a flannel that got caught
in the brush.
i am wanting, i am bated with- (hope)
this common cold frosted into the craters of my lungs.
summer will drift in soon,
and thaw the sickness that comes every year.
until then,
/x

windows

2019-04-08T21:15:00.000-06:00

i bleed my favorite colors into the depths of their little eyes

it's the secrets we hold closest to our hearts that never see the light of day

so maybe if i carve a window into my ribs, they can

stick their grubby, glorious faces up against the glass and the dreams

will swirl in a wind of bright dust that has never faded

and it will be hard. because there have been times where i have trusted people

like when she told me she would - but never did. time after time. and even though

my throat was sore from heartblood crying,

she never knew. and him? he wrote me a letter acting as if everything was normal

until the last line when he said he was leaving forever

the people that i trusted most? i was twelve. and they left me in a parking lot all alone

this heart has been thrown to the ground and even the echo never comes

they are still small enough to fit within my sapphire shadow

so i take their trifling hands and tuck laughter into them in the form of

minor miracles. barefoot in the front yard, telling him that it's not right to lie,

his voice clearcuts across to my chest with an apology, achingly humble

then it all passes like the tide washing over the footprints on the shore

as we return to our game of tag

so even when i have to wipe the window in my ribs with a dirty cloth,

it is wetted with living water from the hole in his side

they are still so small, and the mustered hope in my soul is brighter than lightning,

teaching them that our fathers' callouses create safe havens

the fire plants a garden of ash for the strength & glory dreams to break forth

every swollen death in your kid heart will throw you against all that you know

but you will laugh with peach juice running down your chin on the hottest summer day you've

ever known and when the breeze strikes the sweat, you will find all the life

that has sprouted from chasm repentance and crescent belief

way out on county road 2

2019-03-31T09:08:00.001-06:00

i push against invisible walls
that are heavy-laden with false hopes
the crops were few in the years of drought
that came when you fell into broken habits once again
i sat on the wet ground by a house of former glory
and wished that i would be willing to be torn down
to make room for the sweet clarity of fresh growth
the steps are more mold than solid wood
and the carpet is now made of dust and covered
with the sprinkling of the old ceiling giving up

out on county road two, there are
houses that are no longer homes and a girl
stretching her hand with freedom away from the ties of
fault lines of heartache that wanted to linger
i drove through a quiet town in Colorado but it looked like
Kansas and i almost felt lonely
if it wasn't for the way that the clouds twisted the light
into a strand of hope and the goodness of death
the path has been set and the hosanna has been cried
you can feel the churning when you place your
hand on the grave of what we surrendered
the brink of the third is set in my spirit
and the unwept hurt finally exhales into the
birth of healing

tomorrow we'll be sun-soaked, today i am hope-soaked

2019-03-14T21:11:00.000-06:00

bump into rough billows of clouds,
tasting the powdered sugar from the heavens as if
winter was only a light dusting on top of my summer.
i sweep the kitchen with the door open,
and everything shivers from the bitter wind
but i am stuck, stuck, stuck -
in a daydream?
look closely. the cacti in our bathroom is dying from the cold,
and there is no space where the sun hits just right
for them to live.
he thumps his chest to clear a cough from his throat,
and the sound irritates my own lungs.
we are all eager, eager. maybe
if they use the right machine, they can suck the
hypocrisy from underneath my ribcage,
right near my spine, where it is caught on a truth
i was just trying to give to make things better.
brush my hair out of my face, but
my fingers get caught in the knots of conviction
trying not to stumble and morph into
condemnation.
every day, down monaco street parkway,
i gaze as long as i can at the branches of the trees,
trying to see the green budding underneath their
white coats.
this is a dream that keeps sprouting in my soul,
no matter what storms break against the shore.
sandcastles wash away, but i am founded upon a Rock,
and maybe that's why this hope
triumphs when it is strangled. i heard something, once, about
how death was defeated. i think, maybe, this is like that.

/x

hard into holy

2019-01-17T21:56:00.001-07:00

i am coughing up blood, the color of confusion

the beat in my chest feels more like a knife turning

there are spots when i try to look at your face

clarity has abandoned the weak

feelings tell me that truth is just russian roulette

a game of chance, a game that leaves you hoping

but Something tells me we all know that's a lie

it goes deeper than the serial doubter's doubts

a steadfast stone, solid,

unchanging.

always true, no matter the circumstance.

peter looked Him in the eyes and declared

a feeling to be fact. knowing and kind,

He prophesied three crows.

only three, and by the third, he was pale and sore.

weeping over fragile foundations.

if He is God and He is good, comes sorrow under the shield of anger, then why does He let bad things happen?

you are still small, i sigh a laugh, even though my ribs

creak under the small movement of that.

because He is just? because actions have consequences? because He is sovereign?

we are eternal beings in finite bodies trying to decrypt

a message most of us are unwilling to hear.

you are not enough.

my splintering flesh is evidence,

as i stumble into walls of all of my mistakes, and trip

over rotten actions, still yet to be surrendered.

when have i ever been enough? born a sinner, the old man ruling.

but He is enough.
that is all it takes to still my heart. the knife stops churning.
the arteries are cleared. my hands steady.
there is no hesitation in His spirit,
and He gives to those who are willing to break and believe.

the murmuring of the earth speaks of glory,
and i am finding Love twinkling in her eyes when she sits beside me.
i watch as he runs under the dark winter sky,
the Star in him shining brighter than the ones above.
i am amazed by His redemption in the pain.
give me hard. give me holy. let me see You.

/x

sitting in michigan x

2018-12-16T22:20:00.001-07:00

i wait for a call that almost sounds like home

but it is the weeping of the sea as she rolls

over the shore and aches as she pulls back

the layers are revealed, and the grown

turn cold shoulders

yet i am still small, kneeling in the sand,

shells piled like jewels

in my hands

the sky is sobbing and i am trying

to figure out why

everyone here cannot see the gift

of a God who cares enough to refine

there is a pulling in my chest,

right between the bottom of both my ribs

calling for the chance to be pierced

hard enough to bleed

they are all searching. searching for

something to fulfill. and i -

i am constantly racing to unclog as if

i were a drain overflowing with junk.

here am i! i want to scream. but even

that conviction isn't quite reckless enough.

i can never seem to feel the right

thing at the right time. i am

the clock that chimes three minutes too late.

i don't need you to love me

2018-11-13T22:56:00.000-07:00

the light feels thick from the stars, strangling me into
a muggy heartache.
you don't have to love me, i murmur, always always
twisting in the night. you don't have to love me.
but no matter how many times i say those words,
i can't quite make my feelings obey in submission.
in a lot of ways, i want you to love me.

i want memories where the heat of the moment
lights up our faces, casting gentle shadows.
the blurry memories. the ones where you can't quite
remember what you were laughing about, but you
just remember your heart was in high tide.
it doesn't have to be a lover's kind of love. she
talked about soulmates, and how they can come for
those moments where time stands still.
in a lot of ways, i want to believe you were one.
because when i throw a glance over my shoulder,
certain pieces of time peek at me like glitter in the
sunlight.

but i don't need you to love me
for me to love you.

/x

hey punks! lately my favorite feeling has been the freshness that comes when you move on from old feelings. what about you?

everything is okay (even when it's not)

2018-11-06T12:53:00.000-07:00

soft. it washes over me like

sunlight, like a ghost like the way you

don't say my name anymore you

never said my name.

they say let it rise, it is okay

to burn.

so goes the fire, but i

disengage.

no steps back but my nerves crashlanded

now i'm running my hands through the flames running

away.

pillars of smoke look like clouds and

suddenly it's a Tuesday we're naming the

heavens. a glance of gold don't blink twice

the burning tiger is

dead.

smoke meets my lungs and i cough

maybe i'm just getting over a cold my hands

are cold why is the sun so bright

intentional amnesia except misdiagnosed

because i still remember everything i still

remember the way we laughed.

nice to meet you my name is Alright

my name is you're right i'm not but i can't

acknowledge that.

happy tues to fellow nines

(and the rest of you!)

all my love

vague

2018-10-15T14:48:00.000-06:00

this is my moment.

i run my hand through the soft, cold beat of the clouds. turn my head to the left. i see glimmers of blond. something strong.
now i'm running through a murky brown. flashes of white, twinkles of black. there's a window in front of us, and it was a beginning though you were the only one who knew it.

clench and throw all i got. but i don't. i just roll my tongue around in my mouth, and try not to be too honest. no one needs to know. they already know. i wish they didn't. why did you come?

there, on the roof. she tried to tell him something. but words? not this time. yell it loud, baby. sometimes that's what your soul needs more. it's better than a hook to the punching bag. probably because that's where i get my knots, right in my lungs. nothing like a good slap of air to knock it all loose.

this is my moment.
i remember the small things. i hold them in a pocket, only for me to know. the flashes. the feelings.
isn't it funny how there are some things only you know?
handfuls of time only you have experienced?

no one else.

it's only october. only only only only. it feels like it's been a thousand years and only a week at the same time. i've never had the kind of memory people call good. there are some things as clear as day that have happened over a year ago. and then there are some things that happened just yesterday that are already taking root in forgotten land.

i was just on the train ride in the airport, going back home. but there were too many people in the train and my back was to the pole so i had to be steady on my feet. funny how you think you have it, then you're stumbling around.
i can't make sense of any of it.
the walls of the tunnel flash by, and there are all sorts of colors and smells and places. marbles in a basket. he was tall. she was short, and had a sheepish grin. a laugh slipped from my lips, and was lost in the pollution of noise.

already gone.

this is my moment.
why am i so afraid? why do i feel so small? why can't we just say the things we feel?
why are things so complicated?

if every moment is our own, why do we act as if it is someone else's?
that's not selfish. is it? i don't think it is. but right now, i can't make sense of anything. there are shades of blue that give me the deepest sorrow and the deepest joy at the same time. everything is meshing.

vague. yeah. that's what this is. but that's how i feel.

forgotten how to write

2018-06-05T17:48:00.000-06:00

i've forgotten how to write / it seems.

i pick up that familiar guitar in my hands,

expecting to say something of importance, something in my heart.

but it's been eighteen years

and the dam that was there when i was born

is still there now.

i approached it as Jericho, but seven days did nothing.

seven years have passed, and still nothing.

i have a journal with small poems

that just make my heart sick (perhaps an overstatement) when i read them

because i could never say it / quite right.

no, wait --

s t o p.

could you stop protesting and just LISTEN for a moment?

i am tired of words right now,

tired of sound.

tired of people telling me how / when / possibilities.

just listen.

i drove in the desert heat to a picnic table in

the middle of nowhere,

and sweat on a bench eating blackberries and

watched the clouds dance and sway quietly along

their bright blue stage.

i had meant to pray.

to abide in the presence of my Savior, pouring out my heart.

maybe to listen and hear a word from Him / (trying not to be a hypocrite).

but the sun just covered everything it could,

and i was hot, and the wind was hot,

and there is no good word to describe it all except hot hot hot.

i've forgotten how to write, after all.

but a man walked with his daughter,

laughing and calling after Maddie. both of them

bore weapons against the heat (just squirt guns and hope).

i grinned at the trees away from them, trying

not to spill the secret that i was listening.

i think he knew.

i don't think he cared.

i guess you don't need to know how to write

to be spoken to.

hey babes. graduated high school. sending my school laptop back to the school so i'm not going to be able to post again until i buy a new one. but that's not new news. i mean, it takes me a couple of months to post these days anyway.

thanks for always coming back, even when i am a poop and don't reply to the comments. i see 'em and love 'em.

faithfulness

2018-05-17T12:51:00.000-06:00

it is suddenly a thursday, a daring blue sky sending kisses in clouds. the grass in our yard is too long, not asking to be cut because we both know that sometimes you need to let things grow while you rest. it has been a long season, full of full, long days. but look, the tide is changing. today i slept in without worry for the first time in months. my mom planted flowers in the pots on our porch. i didn't have to take a jacket with me when i left the house yesterday evening.

faithfulness. i roll that word around in my mouth, learning what it means. i asked her what God was teaching her on sunday. she laughed and gave me an answer, but i wasn't expecting her to turn the question back on me so quick. i didn't really have an answer - "He is teaching me a bit of everything." she was gracious enough to accept those words, commenting a bit upon them.

but here i am, only a few days later, and i have found a word to describe the gentle work He has been working in me, through me, and all around me.

faithfulness.

in all things. man. if i could just pick out those moments in my life, and place them in your hand for you to see and to know and to feel, i would.

it has been this past school year, staying up late late to finish homework by the end of the day. it has been waking up at 5:30 and wearily getting out of bed to get ready to go to work. it has been squeezing in loads of laundry into the washer, finally picking it off the floor because your room has been a mess for a week. it has been playing guitar on wednesday nights and praying in the car in the morning.

but not all of it has been physical - it has been choosing to love when i don't feel like it, it has been checking up on friends, it has been replying to emails or texts or emails or letters (even if they are latteeee), it has been learning to surrender, it has been sticking it out through the hard things, it has been being honest, it has been asking the hard questions, it has been choosing forgiveness and asking for forgiveness, it has been humility written into my core.

it has been laying myself down for the sake of the Cross, for the sake of others.

you must understand that faithfulness was never about what you could get. what you could gain from being faithful to another person or to another thing or to God. faithfulness is about love and it is about lifting others above yourself and it is a continuous choice. it isn't a one time thing. it is a battle to stand firm, proclaiming Christ into the face of things that call you off of the solid Rock.

it is my King Himself, beaming grace. beaming humility. beaming love. all of these things are woven in to each other. you can't be truly faithful without any of them.

and don't get me wrong. faithfulness is full of sweet fruit.

because of it, cords have been tightened, hearts have been strengthened, trees have budded, finish lines have been crossed, rest has been earned, glory has been given, joy has grown deeper, cinnamon rolls have been made.

faithfulness. it is written into everything. i laugh when i look at the sky, a golden sun has been revolving for thousands of years. my God has fulfilled each of His promises. the flowers are peeking out at me, shy but bright. there are callouses on my fingers from the guitar. faithfulness is good, good, good.

hard, yeah.

stinking hard.

but those types of things are always worth it. He has proven it, and i will not doubt it.

/x

hello march. x

2018-03-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

friday.

- i hear the wind sweeping the sky, and i am tumbling in and out of soft dreams between my blankets, and the sun is leaning against the wall in my room napping.

saturday.

- stumble into the bathroom, grin at a face sleepy and solid in the mirror. survived my first day of being eighteen. it went exactly as any other day when i was seventeen. i hum to myself, the only one awake in the house even though it's already 7:30am.

sunday.

- always a quieter type of day when you are alone. i slept in as late as i could before my dad fumbled his way downstairs and announced that the cinnamon rolls were out of the oven. i laughed. because i had mentioned that i wouldn't mind them for breakfast, and i didn't think he heard me, but here we were.
eighteen. it has been a series of the quietest and gentlest gifts that only i know of. His precious hand weaving His grace into the very folds of weekend days and weekday hurts. i am thankful.

monday.

- i trace the raw branches with my eyes, we're ten years old, sitting beneath that tree barefoot and skinny legged. who knew the grace of God was stretching its roots into the very depths of our feeble hearts? i press my palm up the window of the past. most people wish they could get it back. i've never been that way. i feel the crevices and old valleys in between those good days.
they have all brought me here, closer to the gentle hands of my Solid Rock. i wouldn't change that for those old juicy peach afternoons and 8 o'clock bedtime summer nights.

my greenbean of a girl wrote a song !! ! go listen. pls.

/x