Small Pebble In My Jeans

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my attraction to hard, born through a lost memory,
existed,
created who I am.

an unusual warmth from the simplest of minerals I’ve grown accustomed to, need
and cannot explain.

I greet them, inspect
place them in my hand
and slowly they enter,
my pocket. Mine. My anchor.

each time I revisit the Rockies
the desire arouses
matures, alters in strength,
becomes habitual.

these rocks, their immensity
I want to claim as my own,
every year unwilling to ask
I leave, unbecoming.

*What I Would Have Shown You

Deemed Useless- Hiabun

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To be left here, alone with thoughts, is a risk submitted to, but then doubt creeps in around me and one ponders if there is strength enough.

Yet, it is true. We’re made to endure.

Who do I think I am? Why do I think I matter? When did I decide I was more important than another?

To see beyond myself in order to rest my mind onto what will probably occur, is torture, I think. Why would I force myself into a mess before it’s time? Am I looking to intercede, possibly control or even wish the reality of the situation away?

No. I can’t imagine a life without.

What I need feels right inside. Am I wrong?

To want with all one could muster, yet sense it may never be, confines me.

I sense myself becoming that guarded individual I know all too well. Disappointment teaches and somehow I need to figure out how to grow.

Again.

To be open to the plan waiting for me.

I willingly prepare for my days ahead, and begin listening to words I’ve felt over and over recently.

Put this dream away. There isn’t an answer.

marked dismissed

sojourner living inside

redundancy evident

Survivor

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When did my confidence go to battle with my insecurities?
Why are they winning?
I know better.
I am better.
I will continue to thrive.
Go. It’s been done before,
I survived.
I would again.

Throwing a temper tantrum would never work.

Waiting patiently gets me nowhere.

Being my quiet self is far too dull.

All that is left is to use my voice, yet, the quiver I hear isn’t very convincing as I try.

Fearing judgment may keep me from the happiness I know I deserve.

Wanting to be a playground, but instead I’ve become too common.

Take what is yours, these words I hear constantly in my head, I used to believe they were meant for me to say to the one who truly wanted me.

Maybe it’s what I’m supposed to do.

Huh, it goes against who I believe I am, but being left alone is too.

But This Is What I Do

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I fall hard
but this is what I do.
I imagine long walks,
you pointing out the vision
I see as reality,
but this is what I do.
I picture myself as a flower,
each petal adored, even
in her simplicity,
but this is what I do.
The vast Midwestern skyline
of Nebraska takes me to
where you are daily, and I pray
but this is what I do.
I wander inside of a daydream
where we exist as one,
but this is what I do.

Sleepless

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A quick update.

I’m here when I want be sleeping like the women I envy, even though I know desire gets me nowhere.

I envy her the quiets breaths her He would listen for, as He watched making sure bad dreams didn’t interrupt the peaceful place He’d prepared.

Suppose she offers him the same sanctuary. I hope so.

Anyway, just wanted y’all to know why I’m in and out of WordPress. My father begins a new treatment for a whole new set of distractions.

I can’t be with him like I want to be, because of the responsibilities I have for my own little family. Dad understands and has my middle and baby sisters with him this month. However, you guys know I am unsettled with the arrangement.

I have moments where I feel like my best isn’t enough.

When I fail at being human and not fighting for what I need.

What does obtaining get us?

Maybe as we are is best.

We understand this as we are space. It seems to work. It isn’t ideal, but our needs are met, if they weren’t we would change.

Or would we?

Fear is a real emotion. It isn’t intended for us, but we let it in. We grasp fear thinking we can somehow live together.

We can’t. Not truly.

Embracing love or accepting fear is the choice we’re given.

Love and fear don’t really work together.

Not Your Fault

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Not your fault, I often question

Not your fault, I’m broken

Not your fault, you couldn’t ever understand my uncertainty.

Not your fault, my trust is hard to gain.

Not your fault, when often I’m distant or confused,

Not your fault, my conversation skills.

Not your fault, I’m used to my own silence

Not your fault, I don’t know which way to turn

Not your fault, I can’t process receiving concern

Not your fault, I discipline myself

Not your fault, I stay in control

Not your fault, I’m a soft shouldered girl.

Not your fault, I can’t talk

Not your fault, I come from two parents who were lost

Not your fault, I need so much

Not your fault, I feel less than

Not your fault, I can’t make it easy,

Not your fault, you deserve a Queen

Direction

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overwhelmed with responsibility
I listen to the rain fall for hours early this morning.
not a bird rejoices
as dawn breaks, although hidden
but the train travels through
twice, horn insistent.
strong coffee brews,
snowflakes appear
beauty automatic,
like women with blue eyes
and goldenrod hues of hair.
a tantrum wouldn’t fix
what’s inside my head,
use the wisdom and
traits God gave me
stop worrying about
what’s changing.
snowflakes fall
white covers the ground
my lilies now
curled back in fear,
winter refuses to leave
and I wish you were here.