She Didn't Have a Face

 

For you never knew her name.....

 

The way she moved, the way her presence drifted through the rafters

The way she was, yet never was...

The way she existed yet sank beneath the tumultuous waves

Clinging to the hope that someone would hear her screams

Struggling to breathe in this world that channeled her energy

Into a windmill of tepid darkness

And ransacked even the whitest of evil

If evil could ever be still long enough to drag the next victim...

No one ever knew who she was

No one ever saw her face

No one ever listened for her calls for help

And no one stood still long enough to understand

The very evil that ensued her footsteps

How she tried to tell the truth of who she was

Yet remembered that smirks lay not far from where she stood

Darkness...

Shadows...

Eeriness...

Falling...

 

Don't walk away from what you don't understand

Don't hide from something that scares you and makes your heart jump

Don't pretend you never knew she existed

Don't underestimate the power you hold within your grasp

The very power to make or break the darkest spell

That threatens to place a choke-hold on the nearest being....

 

She escaped from this asylum of guilt and pain

Shackled by the laughter and empty words

She found a way to let the world know she never existed

The way they mocked her to tears

That flowed like acid rain down her marble face

It's as if she never was....

 

Girl Meets World

 

 

       For as long as I can remember, I have been able to go to a magical place where all of my dreams come true. Long before I had a sister and a brother, I became very good at playing well alone. I have always had a vivid imagination, and the truth of the matter is, that was the beginning of my life as a writer, and continues even to this day. Whenever something was a little "off" in my world, I was able to sit and day-dream, and I even carried a little notebook with me so that I was able to write down my feelings on the matter. As I became older, my mom took note that whenever I would spend hours on the piano, I was hurting inside. Music also became my "magical world." I believe that writing and music go hand-in-hand, and that they both have a healing power. Words can heal, and they can also destroy. The same is with music...it can heal a broken heart or it can cause the anger that is built up inside, to implode into a disaster. The following is a poem about the magical world of writing and poetry and how they tie together.

 

 

I grew up where the sun shone through my yellow curtains

And made me feel like my life was brand-new

I'd stare out across the royal plushness of my backyard

And dream of places that existed beyond the green carpet

Places that could take you where great people once lived

I could hear the music whistling through the silky evergreens

I could close my eyes and smell the mustiness of the autumn leaves

Hear the fast-approaching trains that rumbled near my window

Rattling the antique glass and making me feel safe and sound

Music wafted through the vents with the toastiness of the warmth

Listening to hours of practice and beautiful melodies from my sister

I can smell the mouth-watering baking for the holidays

As I'd crack open a hard-backed book

Ready to meet a new person and become fast friends

Flashlights glowing under the bed-covers

Headphones worn to drown out the world around me

I could lay on my back against the smoothed concrete

Of the expansive white-washed gazebo

And listen to the birds sing their many melodies

From the wooded trails not far from my being

I could harmonize completely with my family

Relishing the fact that our voices blended as one

And knowing that that moment would but vanish

From my out-stretched grasp....

Oh, I can always leave my current work-filled day

And travel back in time, to meet  many beautiful, old friends

Acquaint myself with new ones and never see their faces with my eyes

For to imagine is the best skill a writer can possess

To see the world from up above, looking down

Hovering over them like an angel of light

They make their way through the looking glass and into your pen

Singing the songs, whether good or bad

And creating a memory that was once upon a time....



Within These Walls

 

 

Behind every poem lies a story, a memory, a piece of one's life. For years, I allowed myself to hide in the shadows and observe those around me. I have been known as quiet and a girl of few words, but in reality, I have much to say. If you pay attention, you will find most of what I have to say within my writings. This particular poem is written from the view point of moving on from hurts and pain from the past. I had a great childhood, but I allowed those in my life to tell me how I should be and how my personality really was. It wasn't until these past few years, that I figured out who I really was without the words and pictures others had painted about me. I have learned much about myself, but the main thing is that I have a heart of mercy. Where others tore me down, I build those in my life up. Like the song, You Raise Me Up, I decided one day to truly invest in those around me and build them up in their daily lives.

 

 

Within these walls I hide behind what you have to say

Never standing forward, never speaking up

I allowed you to say what you had to say

And I rarely had any words with which to reply

For I kept them all buried deep inside

And never a word did I speak in your presence

All of the pain you have caused

All of the uproar within your domain

I stood back and allowed myself to be silent

I step forward now, not to yell or even cry

But to say that I forgive you.

I forgive you for all of your judgments

I forgive you for not understanding the way of life

To not know what I know today, to walk in total darkness

I forgive you for not understanding what it is to walk in love

To put others before your very self

I bow within the pain that you possess

That you don't know how to reach out your hand with mercy

To forgive as Christ forgave us

I bow in prayer that one day, you too will be set free...

Free from this burden that weighs your body down

That darkens the way of those who are lost

That you will see the light that He possesses

And you will feel His grace, far beyond comprehension.

I forgive you for you are standing in the dark

And you need someone to light your path.

I close my eyes in prayer for you

That you will understand no condemnation

And you will stand in freedom, in grace, in light, in peace.

I am not better than you by any means

For we all stand equal at the foot of the cross...

I reach out my hand and offer forgiveness, restoration, freedom.





 





Through the Looking Glass

She discovered that the path she had been travelling

Would no longer be a safe way home

Shards of glass threatened to pierce her through the heart

And pieces of what appeared to be a golden frame

Lay stagnant in the muck and the mire of the desolate road

She clutched what was left of the tattered pieces of clothing that surrounded her

And braced herself for a brighter tomorrow filled with promises of hope

Her ashen face was painted with the grime and filth from her travels

And her tiny hands shook as she decided to move forward…

Step by step, one foot in front of the other, she walked

Faintly, at first, with blood and tears that streamed down her soiled image

Those who could help, walked idly by, some laughed and some whispered

“Desolate creature,” they called her, one who walked boldly yet alone

Not one soul tried to see that she struggled because she carried herself with grace

Though outwardly, she appeared to be shaken by a heightened battle

Inwardly was a strength that could be seen deep within the eyes of her soul….

Stepping forward, turning from the mockers and those who would jeer,

She began to pick up the pieces of the glass…

In them, she could see her reflection and with each piece, there was a flash

Of a distant memory that threatened to kill her spirit.

She continued to piece these jagged shards until they, together formed an image…

With a gasp, she peered into her reflection and what she saw nearly took her breath away…

A lone tear fell from her eyes and the glass became like new

Standing in front of herself, she took one step forward, into her future.

You see, the pieces that threatened to kill her were what brought her to her future…

She walked through the looking glass, brand new, whole, revived,

And those who saw her, those who laughed and mocked, bowed in awe at the beauty that lay before them

The true beauty that always was seen within the recesses of her soul

But now shone through her like a ray of light.

 

Who I Am Inside

       One thing I have learned over the course of the last several months, is that all of humanity is different, yet in some ways, we are the same. I happen to be the more intense type, taking most everything seriously. This side of me is there for a reason...I am an artist. I have learned to embrace what I would call my flaws and make them my strengths. It is within this side that I have hated for years, that I found the place where I could truly be myself through my writings along with the love that I possess for those around me.
       I also am always looking for answers. Most of the questions that I ask, people scratch their heads wondering who would think or ask such a thing. I have long gotten over being self-conscience because I have learned that if you never ask, you will never know. I remember as a small child asking a question in Sunday school only to be told that I ask too many questions, and for heaven's sake, please put my hand down. I'm sure I was continually interrupting the lesson with my questions, and if I would've just listened, my question would be answered. But my mind had a way of jumping ahead, and seeing the future and planning and trying to understand everything there is to understand about a subject. Even to this very day I ask questions that no one can answer.
       Either way you look at it, I always felt different than everyone around me. I used to think there was something terribly wrong with me because I wouldn't grasp humor quite as fast, or it took me a little longer to catch onto something new. Truth be told, I wouldn't change any of the above about myself because it has made me a better person all around. Because I am sensitive, I can relate what it feels like to someone else if they are hurt. Because I am aware when something isn't understood in my mind, I am more apt to be patient with another soul who becomes confused along the way. Because I am inquisitive, I am most likely very happy to answer as many questions that are asked of me. All of these things that I loathed for so long, that set me apart, are now my ally.
       I know what it feels like to be misunderstood. I understand the child who feels bullied or the girl who feels betrayed. I sense when something is amiss. Most of the time, I can tell when something is wrong and the other person pretends that it's not. I have the ability to see beyond the words and fake smiles. The "everything is GREAT" that becomes overkill to the world behind the mask of someone struggling deep inside is rarely ever missed by my observations.
       I want to end by sharing something that greatly helped me open my eyes just this past weekend. I was sitting there in my pew at church and listening intently, when several points were given on how to treat others. I always thought that I knew how to treat other people because of where I had been in life with the people who mistreated me and my family. I actually thought that I was the best friend anyone could ever have! How prideful we become when we actually have the audacity to think that we have arrived in an area! It's human nature to stand in pride once in a while, but pride sure does have a way of being very painful when it falls. We should always be striving to be a better person, a better friend.
       The following points just opened my eyes a tad wider to the needs of those around me whether it be: the struggling author, the hopeful businessman, the scared little girl, the angry driver, the hyper child, the scarce secretary, the distant authority figure. The list can go on and on. In the end, we don't always know what makes the other person "tick." We might think we know someone, but half of the time, most everyone is putting on a show. It might take a little to get to the real person inside. There is always a reason why someone does things the way they do or why they see something a little differently than you. Be kind to everybody because everybody is having a  tough time.

1.) Give the other person the benefit of the doubt.
2.) Assume the best, not the worst.
3.) Remember, you only heard one side of the story. There are ALWAYS two sides to every story.
4.) Even if you SAW it yourself, remember, you only saw ONE view point.
5.) Don't take it personally.
6.) Even when the other person is having a bad moment, it's our job to absorb each other's bad moments.
7.) Love and help the needy person, regardless of where they fit in.

The Lost River, Found

 Winding roads snake through mountainous rock

Overlooking a sparkling ribbon of blue

Leaves are changing, falling downward

Windows down, the breeze assaults ones' senses

Bringing a feeling of blissful nostalgia

A reminder that there is still resilient beauty still remaining

The crackle of a roaring fire

Hoists ones' senses into a sort of haze

Blinking, bowing ones' head in silence

Heart beats fast and breath erodes sporadically

Déjà vu resonates into the wilderness

Bringing into mind the field of wildflowers

The sounds of howling coyote or perhaps a hunting dog

Off in the distance, echoing through the stillness

Running freely with great abandon

Never looking back on what was

Only looking ever forward towards the tree line

Singing at the top of ones' lungs

Not a single care in the world

Simple bystanders raise their brows in wonder

Calling out to see if all is well

One doesn't feel the need to explain this state of pure ecstasy

Because knowing that this is real life

Understanding that this memory will last a lifetime

Is all that really matters down at the lost river, found.

 

 

 

Can We Go Back?

       Simple everyday living is often taken for granted. I have learned over the past couple of days that living in the moment, focusing on what's the most important, is what really matters. Sometimes we go too far one way, and it's just too much. It's almost like we set a goal that is so far out of reach that it's ridiculous and impossible. Then the mind shuts down, and everything we had hoped to accomplish is tossed aside. It's like we forget that for one moment in our life we had this dream, this spark, this desire to even set this goal. We forget how we felt at that moment. Sometimes, when I am in that exact moment, I want to just pick up a controller and push pause...then rewind just a tad, and feel that way over and over. Or, I want to take a canning jar and scoop it all inside and seal it tightly so I can feel that way whenever I want to...whenever I feel as if my world is spinning and I'm in a whirlwind. But, alas, this is what we call life. We can't go back in time, and we can't go forward. What really matters is the here and now. What counts is this moment, this time that you are currently standing in...I can get in my car and go to a farmer's market and breathe in the sweet smells of the countryside, and open my eyes wide and take in all of the beauty of the fruits, vegetables and flowers....gaze out over the fields of apple trees and watch the cows as they graze in the pasture. I can pull up instagram with my phone and take pictures of my children swinging and being goofy. I can record their laugh as they just about laugh at everything I do. Or, take for instance, a few nights ago, I decided to take a sunset walk with my Charity. As she held my hand and just talked to me, it was the most precious memory I've ever made. She is growing up so fast, and it's kinda scary. I'm taking a hold of every single moment, those little things become big memories later on in life. The very fact that my JW will take his blanket, wrap it around himself and roll around on the floor when he is out and out bored, is hilarious to me. I usually pick him up and tickle him or have him sit next to me as I hold him close. He's my cuddle bug, and I treasure that. It's the arguing about the best way to make bbq chicken as Josh and I cook together, then the hugs by the kitchen sink, the kisses by the stove. Or how I will be inspired about a spot in my book, and sit down and type as fast as I can between oven timers and stove alarms. Can we go back in time? No, and we can't go forward either....but we can live in the moment.