Christmas ramblings

Dark hands fetch

My sodden mind

Dark words fed

By sullen rhyme.

Alone and lost

Each numbed-up thought

Escapes to question me.

Who am i now?

What do I seek, entrapped

Here by my own

reality?

Alone and confused

The ripples elude

I cannot find

Their center.

Each frozen stream

Unsourced, unseen, it

Tangles up my path.

I speak aloud to

Air them out

Though not a word is meant.

How do I leave? Who should i keep?

Why fight this all again? If i could flee

And be somebody, then

Who & where would I be?

If any wish could be my life,

What then would it look like?

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Tree nomad

I have realized, on my own

I no longer want to roam

I do not crave the breeze, because

Knowing I’m freely rooted leaves

The possibility to dance.

I no longer feel like half a whole

My heart not dreaming to be a soul

I’ve found myself and I’ve never been so

full

Lord Jesus keep reminding me

That I am not a word;

Nay, not even a sentence

Or a collection of worried breath.
Say it to me again and again

Tell me the worth I have within

I am finding it hard to focus

When the world costs so much to be in. 
Not ‘Christian’ or ‘human’ or ‘lover’ or ‘friend’,

Not ‘person’ or ‘purpose’ or ‘pathetic’ or ‘pretty’. 

I am not words, I am not phrases

More so than ‘me’ 

I am an example of the one true King’s grace and majesty. 

Purpose is

Purpose is family

Bloodshot eyes at 3 am, rubbing circles

As a mother treads heavily into the kitchen

To ask if you’re anywhere near done with that project.

Purpose is love

An eight year old whose eyes light up

When you walk in the room, soon to be

Tackled by an energetic bundle of youth. 

Purpose is weather

Whipping, lashing rain that imprisons you indoors with the love of your life

Snow that lets the sun glint off it so brightly you must squint to dodge snowballs

A bright, clean day full of flapping leaves and swaying trees. 

Purpose is creation

A brand new work of art, strokes and notes and words just so

Never before seen or heard or brought to life with gentle, genuine lips

An otherwise lifeless arrangement given humanity by curious eyes. 

Purpose is service

Worn, battered, wounded and scarred; men and women who risked everything

Smiling as you refill someone’s drink through the drive-through

Bending your back so the elderly once-mother no longer has to do so. 

Purpose is life

Inhaling it in with the best of them; 

Crying as touching sappy movies explore family and forgiveness

Wiping your eyes after a night of grief to let them see the new dawn

Resting and relaxing so that tough times can be endured. 

Purpose is grace

Unfettered, reckless and raucous and loud and pronounced

Unashamedly calling to everyone

Redeeming, recalling, renewing, reviving

Loving. 

Purpose is. 

Purpose is life, love, family, creation, service, surroundings, grace. 

Your purpose is to live. 

Around

Sudden desperate need to prove

That I am me no matter where

Wanderlust; and whither to?

Soldiers wrought of biting wind

The Eastern cold, the northern frost

To weather snow and trials and sins. 
Or boiling heat and thousand suns,

Wretched sands and desert dunes. 

Forests dull or glaciers sharp

I desperately wish to escape this room. 

punctuation 

Create,

And          Destroy. 

Hate yourself,,

Remorse. 
What am I but a collection of

Mysteries and blood?

Someone thinks, I’ll unravel her,

Encompassing my worth. 
I encase my own identity

Cause the curious-mongering

It’s in the way my veins decide

To sway and dip with the ocean’s tides. 
Curl up inside my bones

Find the chips and cracks. 

Realize I’m nothing more

Than a flesh-and-bloodied sack. 

I’m not the girl with silver teeth

Who throws her head back and laughs. 

I am the girl whose skin is deep

Which fissures when I bask.