Who am I?

Somehow in the blur of life,
I’ve become a little lost,
forgotten who I am,
let myself get so busy,
trying to pass as something,
that I no longer look like me,
now I’m trying to remember,
to rediscover,
who I am.

You say I need to get to know me,
and I know you’re right,
but my heart tries to fight it,
looking for an easy way out,
or a simple escape,
from the truth.

I look inside and I cry,
broken pieces remain,
of a neglected spirit,
I used to cherish.

An artist,
a writer,
a singer,
a poet,
a creative flower,
in need of water.

Pieces of me cry out for attention,
wanting to be known,
like I used to know me.

Prayer for Healing

Dear God,

Be with her in her pain,

help her know she is not alone,

grant her the wisdom to see,

more pain of another sort

is not the solution.

Wrap your arms around her,

hold her close,

when physical distance,

prevents a hug from a friend

Be with her when I can't,

when I don't know what to say,

or she pushes me away,

or I'm just not the person she needs.

Help the world to see,

her pain is not her making,

that the scars she gives herself,

are not the reason she hurts.

Surround her with the patience,

of listening ears,

and grant them the understanding,

to know talking about pain,

is better than ignoring it,

that shushing away,

her honest words of hurt,

only leads to scars,

that run far deeper,

than the marks we wince at.

The prayer prompt from this weeks Praying Through My Pen is: Read Numbers 12:13 and "write a prayer for healing for someone specific." Rather than write about a specific person I found myself writing about a specific need for healing which many people I've talked to or heard stories of have faced (and "her" can just as much be "his").

Letter to Myself

Dear Self,

One day you will see how important you are. One day you will believe it when someone says “I love you” or “you're beautiful” or “you're worth it.”

I know you mean it when you say those things, but sometimes it's so hard to believe. I want to be the smart, strong, beautiful woman you say I am. I want to be confident in myself. But...

I know it's hard to believe now, but one day you will see. You're already starting to. You know you want to believe it, to understand yourself that way, and that's the first step to getting there. One day you'll realize you don't just want to believe it; you'll know it's true.

You are strong. You're smart. You're beautiful. You're powerful. You might not believe it, but it's true. And, if you look deep enough, you're confident too. You know you are all these things and more. You deny it, but you know it.

I can be... but...

I don't feel worth it. I want to be. I want to be worth it. I want to love myself as much as you say I deserve to be loved. I want to be happy with myself. I want to celebrate who I am, but so often I can't until someone tells me to.

But you are worth it. You know you are. Right now you need someone to tell you you are important, but one day you'll know it and believe it all on your own. One day you will tell yourself that and it will be true. One day you will stop doubting yourself, and then you will be truly free, truly alive, and whole.

I like the sound of “one day.” I want to tell it to come faster, but some how I think that would slow it down.

So smile and enjoy the journey. You're worth it, and I'm here if you need me.

Love,

Me

This post was inspired by the daily prompt "One day, . . . " and a suggestion to write a letter about why writing is important to you/a letter of encouragement to yourself (both from A Writer's Book of Days). I thought it was just an odd reflection on myself and no one else would really relate to it, but after a couple of my writing buddies told me they could relate to it I decided I should post it.

How much do you love me?

How much do you love me?

Do you love me enough,

to hug away my tears,

to hold me when I cry,

to put me on my feet,

when everything feels wrong?

Do you love me enough,

to know who I am,

and still be there,

even when I cry,

for no reason at all?

Do you love me enough,

to stay by my side,

when I've lost track,

of who I am

and what I want?

Do you love me enough,

to catch me when I fall,

stop the out of control,

downward spiral

of my crashing mood?

Do you love me enough,

to be worthy of my trust,

to keep me safe

and not break my heart,

if I let you touch it?

Smudges

If I tell you the truth...
Will you believe me?
Will you understand?
Or will I have to hide?
Will it be ok,
this part of me is me?
Will you see the need,
or write me off,
say it's wrong,
disallow this part of me?
Will you still respect me?
Will you still believe in me?
Will you still love me,
if you know,
I'm not all white and pure,
there's smudges on my innocent act,
and I kinda,
like them there?


Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: If I tell you the truth...

Who told you that?

That's an electric fence,
to shock you if,
you try to break in.

Who told you that?

It's true,
they turn it on at night,
and then,
it shocks people.

Who told you that?

My mom.
A child's eyes declare,
it must be true,
My mom said so.

It's not,
but how can I say,
Mom lied to you?

What Do You Do?

What do you do?

When you know too much.

When you're bound in trust,
to keep a confidence,
that's none of your business,
but's told freely,
spilled honestly,
at your ear,
never to cross,
your lips.

What do you do?

When your gift is listening,
but what you hear,
is less a gift,
and more confounding,
troubling mind,
confusing heart.

Silence and secrets,
mingling uneasily,
with love and trust.

Respect denying,
it could be as bad,
as the words sounds,
but misdeeds burdening,
more than one love.

What do you do?

Silence

Silence pounds in my head,
tearing me apart,
not because there is no noise,
but because I feel unloved.

Noise and busyness and chaos,
swirl about around me,
trying to break in,
but not the noise I want to hear.

I stumble into loneliness,
the friends I want to hear,
silent.

Just a few words,
I plead in my mind,
would help lift my mood,
when idle chatter,
leaves me lonely,
longing for more,
needing true friends.

Falling

Lonely,

tired,

hungry,

aching.

Needy,

demanding,

expectant,

uncertain.

Falling apart.

Spiraling down.

Losing my grip,

beginning to slip.

I slide into uncertainty,

wondering who really cares,

as soon as no ones there,

to raise a hand,

and say I'm here.

My mind begins to doubt,

that anyone should care.

In loneliness I fall.

Easter Poem

I'm lost.

Caught in a web of lies,
things I only half believe,
I struggle to be me.

Some where I cross a line,
trying to design,
a lie that's true enough to live,
but "right" enough to give,
a sense that I belong,
in the only world I've known.

I'm tired of the game,
I must be breaking rules,
but once the game's in motion,
it engulfs you like an ocean.
Quiting's not an option,
but playing on is a dungeon.

I lie awake at night,
trying to uncover the fake,
face it and make it,
more true to me.

Truth is relative.
Mine,
yours,
ours,
as different as we.

I want to be me,
but I'm glued to a lie,
afraid your love for me will die,
if I stop the lie,
that you'll worry for my soul,
if I tell you my truth in whole.

Maybe it's just a phase,
maybe I'm in a daze,
but I can't comprehend,
this Easter craze.

Love and blood and sacrifice,
clashing.

How can my God of love,
demand a sacrifice?
How can my God above,
give his own sons blood?
How can a God of Earth,
give his own life,
and call it a birth?

I don't want the "love,"

of a God of death,

filled with wrath.

I don't want to worship with bloody crown,

thorns grown to torture,

an innocent head.

I don't love a God of the dead,

giving death before life,

and demanding a price.

I believe in a loving God,

a spirit of compassion,

loving without ceasing,

giving life without a price.
A God of all,

who weeps for the broken,

who carries the hurt,

gives another chance,

til we get love right.
Who sits with us in the night,

and leads us in her light.

Crying Out

Desperate for something,
my heart cries aloud,
...searching,
.....seeking,
........wanting,
..........needing,
a hand to hold,
a place to cling.

Tears burn my eyes,
as I try to face,
the lonely ache,
the empty space,
need I cannot comprehend,
hole I cannot mend.

My heart cries out in pain,
but my tortured mind,
steals my tongue,
...refusing,
......denying,
........resisting,
..........silencing,
holding me captive,
stifling my cries,
drying my eyes,
to hide the pain.

Playing games to resist,
the ones who insist,
I'm,
...beautiful,
.....loved,
known in their hearts,
and destined to be,
used by God.

A Trio of Poetry

Longing to be barefoot

Feet trapped,
in hot black shoes,
rest upon the grass,
wishing to be free,
to feel the soft green blades,
tickling at their toes.


Talking to Strangers

If you've ever taught a child,
you've said don't talk to strangers,
and yet how else is there,
to make a brand new friend?

Friendship Pains

With true friendship,

comes the pain,

bitter sweet,

of honesty.

No secrets,

means no hiding,

the struggle to keep,

a friendship pure.

Unanswerable Questions

Unanswerable Questions

in honor of the friends who challenge me, and love me through the confusion.

Pushing, prodding,
you challenge my thinking,
with questions unanswerable,
you keep me awake.

Frustrations abound,
in efforts to answer,
and yet, to ponder,
the unanswerable questions,

is freeing.

At last unleashing,
the chains of heartache,
pains pushed aside,
but not forgotten.

Exhaustion

Waiting for exhaustion,

complete and total exhaustion,

The moment I no longer,

have to think,

because the thoughts,

Clambering about my head,

are too jumbled,

to realize,

I'm ignoring them.

Yet,

in the moments before,

as exhaustion just begins,

My tired mind,

confesses the truths,

Hidden deep within,

by my,

more rational,

waking

self.

With dread,

...and longing,

I await,

the moment of truth,

Where honest thoughts,

locked up in fear,

escape,

and rush,

onto my page,

Before my saner,

wakeful mind,

Can shush their daring,

crazy cries.