His hands are wide open & i do not come. constantly, He is calling me, over & over & begs for me to look at Him; for me to at least turn around. but i ignore His beautiful voice. i desire more than anything to draw into His grace, His beauty, His everlasting, unconditional Love. but who am i? & why does He love me so? i've abandon Him, left Him, hurt Him, betrayed Him, still He calls for me.
i have watched myself accomplish everything He hates, & i did it before His eyes, knowing He is watching me. & so i continue for my own selfish need because this is everything i want, everything my disgusting flesh desires.
once i've torn myself apart & unable to stand, He saves me, again. so i surrender into Him, allow Him to comfort me. & once i'm healed, once again, i turn away, walk away, with out ever expressing my thanks.
i don't walk very far before i turn back around & run back into His arms, & He tells me He loves me. tears are streaming from His eyes & pouring out of mine. i begin to tell Him how sorry i am, how worthless i am, how selfish i am. so then He takes His nail scarred hands, wipes my tears, & tells me, i am worth His life.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
forever waiting.
how can i ever forget her face its like i just saw her yesterday, and again today 5 years later.
i find her in the grocery store, with her beautiful daughter hanging on her side, and another child one the way, her belly so beautifully protruding, saying, i'm a mommy.
I mean 5 years ago those two perfectly created children could have once been mine, could have had my eyes, her hair, her gorgeous lips, and porcelain skin. but they are not mine, and no longer is she mine, she now belongs to another man; to her i am now just a stranger. she doesn't know i'm looking, admiring, dreaming, and wondering what life would have been like if i would have called her my wife.
I can see her in the fruit area, carefully picking her apples, picking one up, disagreeing w/ it and placing it right back. she was always carefully admiring her fruit, there always perfection in everything she touched. and once upon a time i would walk up kiss her neck and encourage her that any apple she picked was more than perfect.
she picks up another one, places it in the bag, and moves on.
We were both 19 laying naked in her bed, telling each other how this moment couldn't be any more perfect, how nothing else mattered, and that she promised to love me forever. I would swaddle her in my arms, her silky skin touching my body; her legs intertwined with mine, her heart against mine. my world was in her hands.
i loved her, more than i could ever imagine loving anyone else. i would tell her that one day i would buy her the world, that one day we would run away together somewhere far where no one else mattered but us. she would smile at me, and with love in her eyes tell me that i was all she needed, forever and ever... forever didn't last long enough.
i still look at her pictures, go back to my life when it was perfect, go back to when i showed up at her door step and asked her to be mine, to the day where only we existed on the beaches of S.F. I go back to the day when she told me one day we'd get married, back to the day we had our kids names, back to the day she was pregnant. I go back, to far back, back enough to where i start to see her tears, back to where the baby is lost, back to the day she stood at my door step with garbage bags filled with her clothes, telling me goodbye. She was going home.
I knew one day this day would come, i don't know how, or when, but i knew one day, she would stand in front of me with tears filled in her eyes, telling me she was sorry, telling me she loved me with all her heart. She was telling me she was leaving, she was going back to see her sick mother, going back to be with her lost family; i wasn't going to stop her.
I heard from her a couple of times that week. she asked me to take her name off my cell phone, to throw away her pictures, to try and forget that she changed my life. Life would never be the same, she was leaving for good, half way around the world, and that was all she told me. the last thing she ever said to me crying over the phone, " I love you, " and she hung up the phone. my heart shattered, my hands quivered, my life empty. Love lost.
Forgetting her wasn't easy, in fact, it was impossible. i would dream she was next to me, and wake up w/ a pillow soaked w/ my tears. her smell still lingers, her presence still walks, her voice was heard, but slowly fading. I had to learn to walk again.
So here i am, 5 years later, with her in the same building, same isle, still in the same life. I desired more than anything to run up to here and to tell her that i loved her, that i was and still and waiting for her, that i will forever be here for her. but my body didn't move, my eyes stayed frozen on her, she was really here.
i took one step closer, one big breath, and then she turned her head to find a distant friend admiring her gorgeous body. her eyes filled with tears, her heart was visibly beating through her chest, and i could heart it, rhythmically with my own.
we both stood there for what seemed eternity, trying to capture the fact, that once upon a time, we existed. Her eyes never changed, her lips still as perfect from the first time she kissed me, her hands still as fragile. she was so beautiful, breathtaking, a marvel. no longer mine, she took my heart, and kept it.
she still wore my necklace. i smiled, tears in my own eyes. She parted her lips to say something, but then her daughter tugged on her shirt calling for mommy, and as much as a dreamed to hear her voice say my name, as much as i wanted to love her again, i turned around, walked away, hoping to never be seen of again.
Her life was no longer mine, my life no longer in her hands, my heart missing a piece that she will forever hold.
i walked out of that grocery store, got into my car, and drove away back to my empty house. the dog still greets me at the door, and still waits for her to come home.
i find her in the grocery store, with her beautiful daughter hanging on her side, and another child one the way, her belly so beautifully protruding, saying, i'm a mommy.
I mean 5 years ago those two perfectly created children could have once been mine, could have had my eyes, her hair, her gorgeous lips, and porcelain skin. but they are not mine, and no longer is she mine, she now belongs to another man; to her i am now just a stranger. she doesn't know i'm looking, admiring, dreaming, and wondering what life would have been like if i would have called her my wife.
I can see her in the fruit area, carefully picking her apples, picking one up, disagreeing w/ it and placing it right back. she was always carefully admiring her fruit, there always perfection in everything she touched. and once upon a time i would walk up kiss her neck and encourage her that any apple she picked was more than perfect.
she picks up another one, places it in the bag, and moves on.
We were both 19 laying naked in her bed, telling each other how this moment couldn't be any more perfect, how nothing else mattered, and that she promised to love me forever. I would swaddle her in my arms, her silky skin touching my body; her legs intertwined with mine, her heart against mine. my world was in her hands.
i loved her, more than i could ever imagine loving anyone else. i would tell her that one day i would buy her the world, that one day we would run away together somewhere far where no one else mattered but us. she would smile at me, and with love in her eyes tell me that i was all she needed, forever and ever... forever didn't last long enough.
i still look at her pictures, go back to my life when it was perfect, go back to when i showed up at her door step and asked her to be mine, to the day where only we existed on the beaches of S.F. I go back to the day when she told me one day we'd get married, back to the day we had our kids names, back to the day she was pregnant. I go back, to far back, back enough to where i start to see her tears, back to where the baby is lost, back to the day she stood at my door step with garbage bags filled with her clothes, telling me goodbye. She was going home.
I knew one day this day would come, i don't know how, or when, but i knew one day, she would stand in front of me with tears filled in her eyes, telling me she was sorry, telling me she loved me with all her heart. She was telling me she was leaving, she was going back to see her sick mother, going back to be with her lost family; i wasn't going to stop her.
I heard from her a couple of times that week. she asked me to take her name off my cell phone, to throw away her pictures, to try and forget that she changed my life. Life would never be the same, she was leaving for good, half way around the world, and that was all she told me. the last thing she ever said to me crying over the phone, " I love you, " and she hung up the phone. my heart shattered, my hands quivered, my life empty. Love lost.
Forgetting her wasn't easy, in fact, it was impossible. i would dream she was next to me, and wake up w/ a pillow soaked w/ my tears. her smell still lingers, her presence still walks, her voice was heard, but slowly fading. I had to learn to walk again.
So here i am, 5 years later, with her in the same building, same isle, still in the same life. I desired more than anything to run up to here and to tell her that i loved her, that i was and still and waiting for her, that i will forever be here for her. but my body didn't move, my eyes stayed frozen on her, she was really here.
i took one step closer, one big breath, and then she turned her head to find a distant friend admiring her gorgeous body. her eyes filled with tears, her heart was visibly beating through her chest, and i could heart it, rhythmically with my own.
we both stood there for what seemed eternity, trying to capture the fact, that once upon a time, we existed. Her eyes never changed, her lips still as perfect from the first time she kissed me, her hands still as fragile. she was so beautiful, breathtaking, a marvel. no longer mine, she took my heart, and kept it.
she still wore my necklace. i smiled, tears in my own eyes. She parted her lips to say something, but then her daughter tugged on her shirt calling for mommy, and as much as a dreamed to hear her voice say my name, as much as i wanted to love her again, i turned around, walked away, hoping to never be seen of again.
Her life was no longer mine, my life no longer in her hands, my heart missing a piece that she will forever hold.
i walked out of that grocery store, got into my car, and drove away back to my empty house. the dog still greets me at the door, and still waits for her to come home.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 26, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, April 30, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
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.
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.
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