The hole in my left sock.

I have a hole in my left sock on my middle toe. I don’t know how many times I have put this sock on this exact foot & how I just catch myself smiling every time I see the little toe peeking out. I don’t know why I haven’t patched it. It is my favorite pair of socks & I don’t know what it is that stops me from putting a needle to the gaping hole created by my toe, created by me. Created by being uncaring, free willed, and ignorant; refusing to see that the sock I wear is slowly wearing away & I am too self absorbed to realize that the cloth protecting my foot is slowly dying.

Still day to day I put the sock back on to my foot, always realizing the hole is still there. Maybe I don’t patch it because I’m afraid. Afraid that if I close all holes, I will have no where to go, there won’t be an escape. I will be trapped & forever suffocated in my sock. Suffocated in my life, afraid that if I decide to let the needle touch the broken thread, I will never be freed.

Or maybe I’m too afraid that if I do parch it, the threads will only break again, & once again be broken, like I am. Like the way I believe that the sock will fail me once again. Once again it will break, once again it will expose me to the cold, so why bother, I’d rather just stay there now instead of getting my hopes up. The hopes I once had when I first put the sock on my foot and felt the war comforting, and safe sensation; that feeling that nothing could break this seal, the hard woven, unbreakable thread. The fine pieces so tightly held together, nothing could break it.

Until one day, I magically pulled off my shoe & there was the toe exposed out to the outside world. The sock failed me. It ripped, it tore, and left my defenseless toe in the cold, exposed to the deceitful world.

It broke its promise and my heart.

Still for some unknown reason I still wear the same sock on the same foot

I always think about maybe patching up the gaping hole, but I keep putting the idea to the back of my head, even when it tries to push itself to the front, I always manage to push it back.

I finally gave in. my toe has been cold for far too long, and I thought maybe I could give the left sock on more try. So I patch the hold up with completely mismatching thread

And to this day, when I put the sock on, I smile, the thread hasn’t broken its promise this time.

my feet

He asked to wash my feet. He asked me so kindly, tenderly, and beautifully, if i would sit down on the round, sun warmed bench, and He would wash my, dirty, broken, sinful feet. so He took His tender, soft, pure, clean hands, and began to lather the feet that would one day walk over Him. gently, He took His hard worked fingers between my grimy toes, i remember it tickled, i remember how hard i laughed and when i looked up to see His face, He was smirking; not looking up, but sincerely concentrating on my feet, my toes, my skin, every wrinkle, and every grove i was born with. He never look up, no even once when i asked Him a question, He only nodded His head in deep thought, lost in passionate thought, lost in a thought loving me.
He picked up one foot, carefully placed it in the towel, and began to dry every toes, and every crease i was ever born into, then He gently placed His lips on the soles of my feet, and placed them back into my worn out sandals. finally, He looked up at me smiling, and my tears started to fall. I noticed the forgiveness, love and pain in His breath taking eyes. my King got down on His knees to wash my feet.

from death to Love.

When I look at her, I can tell she longs for it. She longs for the quick and easy fix out of life; the button to push that would make everything disappear.
She’s been prisoned in this bed for months & it’s the same story from the docs over again, “we are trying as hard as we can ma’am.” She knows they are, but by this point, she just wants to pull a trigger, one preferably aiming directly at the brain, the whole reason she is here.
It’s the same routine over & over; wake up, bath, eat, sleep, & sleep some more. She wonders why she couldn’t just fall asleep & not wake up, but maybe is just not God’s time, if only He would just hurry up.
Every once in a while a stranger comes to see her & over again she tells the same story, “ I have a brain tumor, they are trying to figure out whether or not its malignant.” But her patience, & sometimes loss at emotions, only seems to bring theses strangers to tears.
She knew she has a tumor & knew that life was going to be a short journey for her. The preparation for this phenomena began at a young age when the migraines wouldn’t stop. She just knew.
But no, she is not angry at God. She just wishes for Him to hurry up so she can be with Him a little quicker. Still He wasn’t ready for her.

Today, I was one of those strangers, one of the many nurses to come to care, come to visit. & as soon as I stepped into the room, I could feel the aroma of peace drowning out the room she smiled at me & I knew she was ready to go.
Young I thought; she was a slender black woman, one who could tell a life changing story. She greeted me & insisted on taking my hand as I sat next to her. Her fingers were cold, icy, & frail. I was too afraid that if she held on any longer they would break, but her touch was so precious & sweet, the kind of touch by someone who knew that definition of Love.
She asked me my name, smiled and said it was beautiful. She told me I had an angelic face, & a kind heart, asked me if I was married, & I said “no.” she replied, “well darling, Jesus has him in store, be patient.”
I read over this woman’s case, the tumor was malignant, & was now spreading, slowly but surely. Now she as having a difficult time breathing, I was surprised she was still speaking.
I’ve never met a woman with so much love, depth & faith; it almost scared me.
I looked over at her, trying to smile, “Ms. Faith, I regret to inform you that your tumor is malignant.”
“Oh child, I know, I’m just waiting.”
I was in there for maybe an hour or more, knowing this beautiful, amazing woman watching her take her last breaths of life, loving her more & more each minute.
I bid Ms. Faith good night & told her I would see her in the morning.
But sleep was not an option that night. I kept seeing death next to her, & kept seeing Jesus hold her.
The following morning as I put on my scrubs, I was more than excited to see my new angel. But was I approached her room, I noticed it was empty.
“Where is Ms. Faith? Did she get moved to ICU?”
“No, she passed last night, & left you a note.”
I didn’t become attached to my patients, but Faith brought tears to my eyes.
The note was beautifully in scripted, “To Hope” and inside it read...

“My dear,
Jesus was waiting for me to meet you. You asked me why I love so, & I read a book once that said ‘To love is to be fully human…’ I thank you for your love.”

To this day, I still carry her note in my pocket, still stained with her tears.

pretty words.

he once called me to tell me that he loved me, & i had no sympathy for his words, i didn't know if i could belive him. he told me that he fell in love with me from the moment he laid his eyes upon mine, & knew that i should be the girl he should spend the rest of his life with.

i remember him telling me that he was going to do everything in his power to end up where i am because i was all he had left & nothing else mattered. i remeber everynight before going to bed, my phone would read "good night my beautiful, i'll be with you soon." and every morning, "i wish i was waking up next to you."

the truth is never loved him, i may have eventually gotten to that point, but as far as life directs me, i have only loved once. i never repeated those three little life changing words to him, and he knew, he was just waiting.

and now 6 months later, he is married, and now 5 months later, him & his beautiful wife are expecting a child.

what scares me is the unreality of the whole situation, how full of flaws & lies every statement he made. how absolutly stupid i feel so for even considering the possiblities.

but i guess that just life... & i'm still waiting.

brother blessed.

he doesn't like bowling & doesn't like reading, not much anyways. he loves to watch a good movie & give an in depth analysis of each one. he is probably a genius, he just doesn't know it.
he was born september 12, 1990; i was 1 1/2 years of age, i dont remever his arrival into this earth, but i remember growing up with this boy i called my brother. there are pictures of us taking baths, feeding each other, & some pictures of us covered in bruises after trying to kill one another.
i wonder what life would be like with out him, & then i realize how blessed i am that he lives the same life i do, on the same planet.
we have absolutly nothing in commom, except maybe we both love to write. he looks like his father & every day grows into his father's figure. i just pray & hope he never turns into the man i despise.
my brother is more beauftiul than he will ever know, the kindest soul i have ever come across, & the most creative being i have ever encountered.
& now 20 years later, for the first time, he is parted thousands of miles, & now my heart feels broken, & now there is a piece missing from my puzzle i call life.
i'm sacred that one day i wake up & he won't. i'm scared that he'll wake up standing next to Jesus, looking down at me.
i hope that i did a good job as his sister, & i hope he can turn & proudly say "yes, thats my sister."
i know that i love him with all my heart, & would tear into unmanable damaged repair if he ever left me. i know that i miss him dearly, & think about him everyday. He still calls me every day to tell me he loves me, thank God he can't hear the tear drops as they fall.

dear dad.

I think that all I want is for him to notice me. Love me, hold me, recognize me, actually see me, but sometimes I think that its impossible. Sometimes, I think he doesn’t see me, & maybe it would make no difference if I even existed. I wonder if I made any difference, & if I did, I don’t feel it, I don’t see it. I feel like maybe if my existence fell off the face of this planet, he wouldn’t even notice. Yet, I scream for his attention, beg for his affection, hurt for his love.
I don’t know how many tears I have shed over this matter, but no matter how many fall, they only fall to become absorbed in my torn tissue. And one tissue after another, the box is eventually empty; still I continue to cry, for him because I love him.

keep running.

its one of those sleepless nights, one of those nights where i'm just thinking about it all over again, all of it. & i can't seem to turn my thoughts off; they keep racing like that stupid hamster on the wheel, at least he thinks he'll get somewhere.. at least he has hope, mine is slowly fading.

or maybe it faded a long time ago.. i'm still pretending its here.

there are those days i feel like the walking dead, or i'm walking without a purpose, but i'm trying to find it.. i'm that little hamster running towards it, will i even ever get there.

dear you,

i fell in love.

dear Jesus,

i'm broken.

dear self,

i have no words.

dear Grandma.

October 31st, 2009.... i wish that i can save her. but the truth is, i can't. i get up every morning, running from her presence, because i'm afraid that if i look at her, she'll disappear.

recently, i've been trying. i've gotten her to laugh a couple of times, seen her smile at me. but what really bothers me, is the silence we sit through when having a meal. whats going through her head? what is she thinking? what should i say?

its the same routine for her everyday. she gets up eats breakfast, sits down to watch tv, reads, then lunch, then its the same thing over & over. sometimes when i watch her staring at the tv, i wonder if she thinks about life. or is she so content with where she is that it just doesn't matter? sometimes, she goes to sit outside with my cat. as the protectively sits by her side, she pets him, sometimes humming, sometimes singing quietly, sometimes, she does nothing but sit.

before every meal, she prays, after every meal, she prays. as i watch her eat, there are times i get up to leave, and cry. she gets younger every day, and ages every week. i'm afraid, that if i wake up tomorrow, she won't.

my heart aches everyday, it breaks everyday, she is dying everday.

so now she sits in her room, probably reading her Bible, & i'm to afriad to go in there.

what scares me the most, is that she won't wake up one day, & there was nothing i could have done, theres nothing i could do, i couldn't save her, and it kills me.

and life goes on.

I walk with a smile painted over my face because I believe I am to walk this earth in a joy. That no matter where life takes me, I am to walk with my head held high, even if pain sits on my shoulders. But nobody sees my pain, no body feels my pain, no body hears my cries at night because when I wake the sun still shines on a cloudy day. The mornings start a new day, and when my eyes open from a stormy night, the arrow on the clock only moves in one direction.
To love is to be human, but love is just a four letter word, that exists far beyond understanding. I am just as extraordinary as he, and just as beautiful as she, but no one seems to notice because the mirror has become the truth.
I see beauty in all that is life, and life in all that is death. The wind keeps blowing, the oceans are blue, the seasons change, & the clock doesn’t stop ticking.
I rise to walk the path I believe I am destined to run. But I am too afraid to run, too afraid that one day, I’ll run out of breath, out of time, out of life, & love.
I’ve lost what love, but love comes back, takes my hand & shows me the way.
Days, I lose myself in thought, & nights, I forget that I have somewhere to be.
One day, I’ll take off my shoes, & walk across the river; Someone is waiting for me on the other side.

to the lost, found, loved, and forgotten.

to the titles of nothing, & beauties of everthing, my heart sets out to you. life being unfair, and circumstances of the likely, there is nothing to be understood. it starts out with a spark, & ends in dust; the circle never stops untill the day the Sun decends. the constant twirls & swirls of thoughts rumage through the impossible in the event of the possibility of being noticed, or even seen. but still as the rivers flow, & through blowing of the winds, nothing stays the same. people, place, love, death, hate, happiness, & even hope, sence does not exist. to be heard, seen, loved, to be broken, to be one day beautifully put together, to one day wake up in peace. We live life to one day find death, to find an existance, to find a purpose, but we fail to see the glorious beauty burried beneath the selfish eyes. The healing touch of the tender hands, We don't seem to absorb the comfort anymore. it has all become part of the world, and sent down to the pits of nothing. the preacher always said, " Love your neighbor," the teacher said " treat them with respect," mother said, " i Love you," & you, just nod your head, & pretend to understand. some question what it is to love, but clearly know how to hate, but how does one exist without the other? others question faith, yet still have the ability of believing in the never proven. sometimes i hear Paul, whispering to me the promises of the unseen, & guarentees of the things people believe impossible. there are those times i hear Paul, speaking through me, his words, his thoughts, his beautifully spoken dreams. i wish to say, "my dear brothers, & sisters, loved ones, & dear ones, believe & live in Love," but i am not confiedent the world will hear. but neither was he, but still he spoke, with all belief. to all, i love you, i live for you. one day, eyes will open.

beautiful buddha

She looked liked Buddha. With her long, greasy, disgusting hair, & her torn filthy jeans, she looked like him. Everything about her screamed pain, shallow, hallow, empty, lifeless. She had nothing & she was nothing. The sweater she wore was far too large for her & it was obvious she was not wearing a bra & obvious, that somewhere in the bottom was the forming of a new life.
She was retched, vile, homeless, heartbroken, & beautiful. The stains on her gray, torn, Goodwill sweater, each told a terrifying story. I wanted more than anything to run out to her & tell her that I loved her, to tell her that I truly believed she was beautiful. I wished & desired to take her under my own broken wing & attempt to keep her out of the rain, I but I knew I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t save her & I knew I couldn’t change her. But I saw & felt so much beauty, & saw & felt more pain than ever have I breathed. My assumption was that life was a nothing for her, even though soon she is to bear a child, so my fears only grew larger. I closely admired her filthy hair from a distance, her dirty wrinkles were remarkable, & her deep blue eyes, breathe taking. I fell in love with her brokenness, her cry for help, & her deep profound desire for love. My eyes slowly began to fill with dying tears & for that brief moment, I felt just as worthless. They fell fast, they fell silently, & there was absolutely nothing in that exact moment that could have saved me from so much pain. She held a rose in one hand, & liquor in the other. She will never know how much I actually love her & the child she might one day bear. I watched her walk across the street, out of my left, slowly running away from a possible existence. Never known, never heard. Not a history, not a life. I love her & will never forget her. So before she stepped onto that bus, her blue sapphire eyes struck me with forgiveness, & then, she disappeared.

everything.

i've stood here many times before, & it’s the same question over again, how far is He from me. i wake every morning to His beautiful presence beside me; still, i have yet to see Him. i have yet to touch Him, & everyday He tells me He loves me, & every day i smile. i know He is there. i know that when my tears fall, they are caught. i know that when i scream at night, my cries are comforted. my lies are always seen, my thoughts always heard, & my prayers always answered.
i have fallen in love with what I don’t see. i’ve fallen in love with the One I can’t touch. i have fallen in love with Him & He completes me. He is my everything, & i have always been everything to Him. my life, my lover, my friend, my dreams, my hopes. Love in everything I do, Love in everything I am, every thing i ever will be. He is there with me. every time i will fail, He will be there to pick me back up.
i can’t go on with out Him anymore. life is not beautiful unless His name is written in it. He makes it beautiful, He makes me beautiful. i am completely wrapped up in the idea of Him & who He is. Completely lost in everything He is & has been. it’s like there is this secret i cant tell, only because i don’t know how. & i ache & scream for the world to see & understand, but i don’t know how. my thoughts are nothing but tangled, unable to unwrap themselves, & even if i had an idea of what to say, the words wouldn’t come out as beautiful as the feeling inside. He has ruined me in the utter most, corrupt, beautiful manner. i refuse to go back to whatever & who ever i was before Him. i see Him in my dreams, in my thoughts. i see Him in every ringing voice I speak to. He dwells & lives in every being that breaths into this earth. He is love, my love, my beautiful, my every breath. my heart now only belongs to Him.