21 September 2011

Standard of Beauty

The knowledge you gain as you grow, is far more useful in retrospect.There is so much to teach, but more to learn. I'm wistful for that which I lacked. Precious in the eyes of now, but not then. It's heartbreaking really, there is so much more than what you imagine there to be. I could never know it all, I'd never want to. I'm enjoying the growth, but it makes my heart hurt for the child I was. Why didn't anyone tell me this?

To go about this, I'm confused and concerned. Worried, I want to be worth your admiration. To live up to the standard and make you proud. To teach you and to learn from you. I want you to know and fully understand your value, your worth. I want you to comprehend who you are. I'll listen and I'm here, for advice and counsel and just an ear to listen. But your relationship with me is not the important thing. It's you, it's you.

I kiss the lips that call me "wife" and hold the hand that holds me safe. In those arms I rest and in that serenity I find my piece of mind. Mine only, belonging and true. There are words I forget to recognize. And my neurotic behaviour and simplicity is distracting from the light that shines from eyes unhindered. There is a love greater even still.

Here in my chest is occupied space. Not rented or leased but owned without a price. Permanently paperclipped to the covenant by which I live. A covenant sealed by blood and tears and death, in this I live. Joy burdening my poor heart to the point of collapse. Happy, content, beautiful, victorious collapse. And my heart burns for this, for this intense and fiery passion. I break for that which does not hit me and bleed for those who do not cut me. I am joyful! in the return of vibrant colour!

I can hear the voices. They whisper behind corners, sharp as they are. The words cut like fiberglass, you don't even know it's there until it's under your skin. When I could hear the gossip, I was disappointed. Now that I cannot, I understand. I am not hurt, I am heartbroken. Fiberglass buries itself into you, you see, as far deep as it can manage. Too young, too soon, too typical, too little, too much, too foolish, too rash, too. I disagree and I am ashamed of your building and all that it is meant to stand for.

I hold each moment precious and I bleed the color of my words - transparent. I seek truth and light. Laughing at the clouds because they bring the rain I will dance in. These are children's rain boots. I am unconcerned with proving anyone wrong because that isn't what this is about. The smiles I find are hidden deep in a life everyone had given up on. I will follow. This is my path, my joy to follow.

My desire is for you to fully understand who I am. No lies, no hidden secrets. I have messed up more than my fair share. I have been a bad example to those more impressionable, I have made mistakes, I have injured those I love. And I am sorry. While I would not wish my life on anyone, I do not regret it. Not because it was worth it, but because I would not be who I am without those things. Because I have found forgiveness in the calm and quiet of my own mind, by the grace of One who always knows better than I.

The hope would be that you read these letters and that they form more than words but meaning. Meaning that bleeds onto the page with every ink splatter I make. Did you know that I fall in love every day? It wasn't just once, but it isn't a decision either. And I imagine it will be harder some days, but it will never be impossible. Because I have practice falling in love everyday with Someone who never fails to love me back.

10 September 2011

Move Like

move like

printed on white paper
offwhite, really
no formalities here
the black is almost offsetting
pressed there against the white
they are letters without form
not understood by any mind
but spoken by every tongue in every nation in all the earth
there is a gall
in all that black achieves
despite its circumstances
or perhaps because of
between the lines
and even over the top of them
told what to do only
by time without a clock and keys without doors
single, double, triple
free from the patterns of the mundane
demonstrating a command
a comprehension
creating anew
effect affect

nerve and vein
muscle tissue
greasy molecules reacting to uv radiation
blue and white woven
gene - jean
rayon and cotton
the percentage matters
color patterned
bounce sheets
rubber soul
grey matter
synaps and react
no need for an outlet
the possibilities could break the scale

vintage sunlight
8 minutes old
and today
that is far too long
by any other name
it just wouldn't be the same
does each word belong to you
or just disolve in your mouth
ivy honey sweet
dripping onto the page
dark like ink
first learn the rules
so you can manipulate them to serve you
we live like this
the easy way out
stand up
marble statuesque
now move like