Modern Magi

I’m ready for the thunder,
now.
I learned that there can be beauty
in the quaking of the earth;
just because the sky trembles
doesn’t mean it will fall down.

And if it did,
our bones would be crushed
into fairy dust
and whoever survived would build from a world
coated in magic.

Maybe there’d be peace then.
Maybe some things would make more sense like:

driving home I saw a car
missing one headlight,
completely smashed out of socket
on the drivers side,
save for a bulb.
This bulb that was on
and shining with all its might.
Wherever they were going,
they still had light.

When the sky cracks in half,
I realize now stitching can also
come in streaks that terrify.

I am no longer a child,
hiding under covers
when the rain comes down.
I’m the windshield wiper
on a car sans one headlight,
swishing water out of line of sight.
Helping driver get to destination,
marveling at the shaking
waiting for the comet tail of lightning,
and trailing the wings of the faeries,
shaking off dust as they fly by.

Journaling on the Blog

So, today I went to a new church with my friend Sarah. It was the first time I had been to a service since Easter and I walk toward the church only to see lawn sign with “Is the End Near?” written on them.

I’ve gone to private school. I’ve had “Rapture Happy” teachers who liked to scare students with stories of the “end times” and the rapture of Christians. When will it occur? Pre-trib, mid-trib, or post-trib? Who will be taken? Who will be left behind?

While I’ve grown up in that culture and can honestly say that I’m a believer of the one true God and his son, Christ Jesus, for the first time, in a long time, I didn’t feel scared of the end.

While I am scared of the act of dying, it is not my destination that worries me anymore. I don’t have to stick my hand up and ask to be saved every time we have a prayer. I know I believe in God and I know God loves me and has accepted me into His kingdom.

What is still awe-inspiring to me is watching others in worship. How they take that love they have for God and let it manifest itself into praise, the way they raise their hands and close their eyes seeking God’s love and guidance, reveling in the fact they are His chosen people, His children.

I am no longer worried about whether I’m a good person or not, whether my “trying” is enough. God is making me a better person, a better Christian just through my daily act of loving Him and seeking out His word. The message today talked about how to grow in our faith is just a matter of “get in His presence, live in obedience” and love others with no bounds. Show other’s God’s amazing love.

While the image of those people in worship will remain engraved on my mind for the rest of today and even this week, what I took out of the lesson the most is how by giving my life over to God fully, all my worries, my family, my career choices, my relationships, my job I can only become more buried in Him. I can only become a woman who is so rooted in God that someone trying to know me truly, honestly, will have to seek God out as well.

And to me,
there’s nothing scary about that.

Exits with No Shortcuts

It will always be easier
to blame emotions
than to blame you.

It will always be easier to
hate me
than to hear me out.

That’s okay.
I’m glad at the progress I’ve made.
At the person I am,
happy,
and trying to love myself better
than I did then.

I didn’t really like myself,
then.

It will always be easier to say:
“It ended”
than there are days
where I can’t shake the
memories of
you loving me
well.

Not well “enough”
or barely,
but actually holding me in my fragility
and accepting me,
wholly.

It will always be easier
to blame the bad parts,
the last months,
than to blame you.

It will always be easy
to wish you well,
but,
if I’m being honest,
it still stings to say
“Goodbye”.

Ms. Lonely, circa Summer ’16

This is for the
sieves like me.
For the girls bleeding out
and feeling empty
amidst the company.

This is for
every time my fingers
locked up at the joints
instead of typing
“Miss me?”

This is
me trying to find
peace
of mind
instead of a
new “piece”
for me.

This is Sargent Pepper’s
Lonely Hearts Club
with my heart as
drum beat.

This is all the friendships
I left out at sea.
This is symphony
of summer 2016.

This is trying to be okay,
right now,
and positive,
someday
I will be.

Somnia

I fall in love at twilight.
Broad statement.
Revision:
I fall in love with the way
your voice sometimes
lives in the place between awake
and dreaming,
where you talk to me
in an octave far more hushed
than normal,
where your head meets
my shoulder.

It’s like a fogged glass
memory of September,
my fingers running over your hair,
“Drive” playing off the radio;
your cheek pressed to the lining of my jacket,
body shifted from driver’s seat to
lap of passenger,
to a girl who believes for a few moments,
a half hour,
she will be all you need.
Lack-luster friend,
semblance of rest.

When you wake,
you tend to hold people a little tighter.
Your hand brushes theirs in a dimly lit bar
and for once, you eat a whole dinner.

I fall in love with the way
the rain raced down your windows,
“I Will Possess Your Heart” on the radio,
singing softly to your somnia.
Waiting for your voice to fill with sleep,
for your eyes to lift up and meet
mine,
to hear your voice clogged with something
other than a lonely girl’s dream:
to watch your tongue fold over itself with silence,
to watch you break the planes of slumber.

Listening still,
after all this time.
Holding out
for a whisper.