Ask

Who do they think they are?

What if they did it my way?

When will they be more like me?

Where did they learn that was acceptable?

Why do they make that choice?


If they would just quit.

If they would just exercise.

If they would just go to church.

If they would just try harder.


What if we stopped pointing our invisible fingers into the faces?

What if we asked instead?

What if we were brave enough to shut our mouths and listen to the answers?


Instead we assume we know.

Instead we guess.

Instead we wound with our "knowledge."


If we were silent?

If we quieted our preconceived ideas?

If we looked into the eyes of all of us?


Would a piece of us connect to them?

Would we feel compassion instead of false pride?

Would we find ourselves in the stories of these?


The addict to substance?

The addict to lust?

The addict to pride?


The thief of possessions?

The thief of innocence?

The thief of love?


The murderer of body?

The murderer of souls?

The murderer of hope?


We are all guilty.

We are all wounded.

We are them.

They are us.


We all have a story that needs to be heard

Not filtered through judgement and pride

But filtered through compassion and love.


Stop the labels!

Look into the eyes of the soul!

Listen to the source of the pain!


And when we are brave enough to do this

The questions will disappear.

Tenderness will soothe.

And we will heal.


Because we are them

They are us

We are the same.

Flashfloods

Flashfloods of bitterness

Lies decomposing the truth

Hatred aimed at hatred 

Believing it will protect my heart from others' jealousy, revenge, lack of forgiveness.

Convinced it will protect my soul and body from harm 

Deceit so deeply rooted, it is hard to fight. 

Almost impossible. 

Almost. 

But a faithful few

Those standing on the frontline

Praying for truth

Protecting 

Waging war against distortion that devours peace

Believing there is better

Not abandoning because of my lack of perfection

Staying to fight a battle that would be lost if left in silence,

Offer hope that blooms in the knowledge that I am not forgotten

Release

Hatred, anger, and bitterness.

Sadness, loss, and loneliness.

Understandably.

Oozed from pores miles away.

Tangible.

So thick it touched others in their core.

And then limits were reached.

Infected wounds burst unable to hold poison a moment longer.

Realizing life can not thrive in the disease of unforgiveness,

Realizing there is much life to live beyond this pain.

In the sweet surrender.

In the sweet release.

Healing will come.

Goodbye

love

it costs

and fractures

taking a piece of you

and replacing it with a piece of them

love changes you in unpredictable ways

softening your soul

and when it is time to say goodbye

to someone who has stolen your heart

you are left with hope even though the future is unsure

because you gave what you had

you held your heart open

you weren't afraid to truly live

you were vulnerable, real, and raw

the pain of love did not stop you

because

when love is present

souls touch

and time or space cannot fracture that.

Heart

There is only one of me beating in you.

I am the soul,

the center.

I bring life,

both emotional and physical.

I am not indestructible.

I will not work right if I am not cared for.

I feel the weight of this world.

I feel the need for something deeper,

something lasting,

something real.

Care for me so I don't break.

Care for me so I can thrive,

love without condition,

live without fear,

not grow cold and hard.

Care for me so I can beat in freedom.

Fury

Hearts bitter cold

Violent

Slicing

Dicing

To bone

And deeper.

Lies planted deep

Cutting off air

Fury strangulating flesh.

Truth buried in dark depths.

Tar oozing

Distorted black

Thick

Sticky

Suffocating the living

Burying alive until nothing is left but more of the same.

Loneliness

I'm sure there were times before my memory that you played your cruel game. There has to be. The tears come too quickly at times when I see certain things, things that cut to the core and leave me not understanding.

There is a first memory of you though. It was in the trailer park. We were alone with strangers.  I was only three, and he was only two. He was a baby...and so was I. I couldn't protect him from her words.

You were smirking when I fell from the top bunk and again in the fort. You were laughing as I sat terrified in front of the TV in that dark house when the sun was shining through the curtains.

I remember you on the walk from the school bus when I misjudged the length of the big dog's chain. Why were you with me that day as I walked to a stranger's house? I was only six.

You were there when we were told to line up against the wall because we woke her baby. We weren't naughty. I remember your cruelty even though I don't remember her name.

When they came, you were there, leaving me to care for them. I was seven.

I remember when you stood at the pulpit and made sure no one was involved and insured everyone whispered.

You punched me in the gut when she knocked and I still bleed. I handed over my new baby and went after her. That was the first of many times you visited me in the form of  his indifference.

Remember the damp grass on that April afternoon as my little ones and I became one in a heap? I was only 29, yet I felt 12 and 60 at the same time.

You've hung around in the form of lost dreams, cruel words, silence.

I don't regret everything about you though. Sometimes you did the right thing. Like the times I ran away and you met me on the road. I didn't like you, so I turned around.

I have realized that the fear of you invites you into my soul. I have survived your torcherous acts, yet I fear that you might kill my heart someday.

But if I look truth in the eye instead of you, I will see that I am surrounded by love. And love is the opposite of what you have to offer.

Today I grieved the toll you took on my life as the kind man listened, and a little bit more of my wall came down. You steal without regret, but I continue to survive, and I am okay. Beat up but standing. Loved not forgotten.

I know I will see you again someday in some form of devastation because life can be hard, but I will wait until then to acknowledge you. Until then, I will live in this place where you aren't. This home. This family that I am a part of. You helped a little bit in that, you know. Without you, I wouldn't have understood the dire need of the human soul to have a place to belong.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I love the epilogue at the end of a good book. A peek into why the author wrote the story, the life experiences that brought the author to that place. Here is my epilogue.

Loneliness has haunted me a good deal of my life. I am trying to understand the toll it has taken and how to not fear it. But I do fear it. Maybe more than anything else. I have felt the effects of loneliness more than some and not as much as others. It is a powerful thing that I have to recognize. Then heal. Thankfully, I have someone to help me walk through that...everyone needs a good counselor at one time or another. I am okay with that.

I tend to apologize for who I am and how I think. I doubt myself which means I doubt the truth in me. I am working to break free one real moment at a time.