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Archive for January, 2009

D: It is Written

He called her to follow him
He Brought her in from the rain
He asked her name
After that he
Never stopped calling for her
Never stopped coming after her
Never stopped wanting her near him
No matter what it cost him
No matter what she had become
No matter who tried to stop him
Though she was distant
Though she was scarred
Though she told him to go
He kept coming after her
He kept coming through for her
He never forgot
She was his destiny

It echoes
In the filth and the slime
In the violence and betrayal
In the corruption and confusion
The greatest story ever told
The one in which He is coming for us
The one in which

He called us to follow Him
He Brought us in from the rain
He knows our names
And He too
Never stops calling for us
Never stops coming after us
Never stops wanting us near Him
No matter what it cost Him
No matter what we become
No matter who tries to stop Him
Though we are distant
Though we are scarred
Though we tell Him to go
He keeps coming after us
He keeps coming through for us
He never forgets
He is our destiny

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Unlocked

It was bleeding
When I pulled it out and locked it up
Ravaged and almost destroyed
Torn and ragged
Exposed
It left a gaping hole
And so I found a case
Strong and made of gold
Intricate and rare
It protected well
And I kept the key
Always around my neck
Like a noose
Or a chain that binds
So when I gave Him my heart
I handed him the case
Isn’t it beautiful? I said.
He smiled.
He held the case in His hands.
But I kept the key around my neck.
So He had my heart
But He couldn’t touch it
Without destroying the case
And risking further damage
By crushing or jagged edges
We walked together a long time
Him with the case
Me with the key
Growing heavier all the time
Reminding me as it swung against my scar
Of the mess locked away inside that case
Of the damage done
Of the wounds that must have deformed
Wondering what He would think
If He opened the case
And one day, He asked for the key
Gently, but firmly,
He insisted I had carried it long enough
He asked for the right to open the case
And with trembling hands,
I lifted the key from my neck
Laid it in His waiting hand
And He held it and looked into my eyes
As His hands moved to turn it in the lock
The case fell open
And together our eyes looked down
To see perfect pink
Entirely whole
Completely healed
And then He held my heart in His hands
With no barrier between
Before He placed it again inside my chest
His hands holding it safe
Setting it free to beat again

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After Revolutionary Road

“For such defects, and for no other fault, we are lost; and only in so far afflicted, that without hope, we live in desire.” Dante, Inferno

“And with desire to languish without hope” Milton, Paradise Lost

Looking to each other
Dreaming dreams
Believing in all we think could be
Working to achieve
Aching to become
Trying to reach beyond
Anticipating growth into potential
Faltering in struggle
Searching for blame
Losing hope
Falling into the abyss
Grasping at wisps of aspiration
Clawing at remnants
Giving ourselves over to desire
And then to nothingness
We are lost
For want of more
Than what we have
Inside ourselves and each other

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Yoga Haikus

breathing in and out
noticing how it feels to
find new positions

leaning against tightness
exhaling through to calm grace
strength coming slowly

bending and stretching
finding some balance getting
out of my own way

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Spiralling

the ghosts of the girls we were
stir in our consciousness
beckoning with sirens’ calls of
free spirits gifted with taut skin and firm bodies
they sing songs of how once
we loved with reckless abandon as
we risked without regard for loss

they spin their nostalgic tales
overshadowing our clouded memories of
the tears we cried when our hearts first shattered
the sleepless nights we agonized
over losses that stole our naïve loves away

we have scarred and healed and grown since then
and their voices recall only glory
they tell us we were heroines
luring us to look backward instead of ahead

our heads turned over our shoulders,
we are lured into their distant provinces and we lose our way
we stumble upon a past more alive than the present

we yearn to be again as we were
before we were wounded and stretched

into the women we became

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