No other way to give them up except to throw them in the air. All my cares. I'm feeling like I first did when I arrived in Germany. Those beginning months where you're scared and sad and feel crazy emotional and not entirely like yourself. Turns out that the last three months and the first three months really aren't all that different. Instead of crying or screaming or pouting (all of which I've tried and it didn't help) I sat down and wrote like a fanatic. Here are some small portions of what spilled out.
Joy.
His paint is brushing across her skin
Coloring each crevice and curve of her body with elegance and ease
Slivers of light gleam daintily through the panes of her eyes
And she cries, she cries.
He is bright, he brings light to her form
Shadowing in the corners of her soul
Erasing errors with a gentle stroke
Swirls of color rush across her
And she cries, she cries.
Alive inside the wild streaks of blues and golds
Her tears fall freely and fully
Colored drops fall from her skin to his
Coating him in his art, his love
And he cries, he cries.
Maybe I'm teetering on the edge of your grace
I tighten my face
You can lower my place, just don't take grace
The splendor of the heavens could be dim lit for me
I don't need to see
All that I plea is don't take grace
Hell's fire could tickle the soles of my feet
I don't mind the heat
As long as I leap up into your grace
But I don't understand, I don't understand
Do we all fit in your hand?
Tell me you can, tell me your plan
Please be bigger than I am.
Observations
I have a wild heart and I don't always do things the way others think I should. Sometimes I'm a fool, sometimes I'm stubborn, sometimes I care way too much of how others think of me. And sometimes I don't know the reason why I get up every morning and live. I don't know what keeps me breathing. Suppose it was hope. If I didn't hope for the next breath I would not take it. Each breath is a tiny fulfilled hope. I have to believe just to breathe. But hopes are not just tiny. There are bigger ones like hoping for a pleasant day or hoping for the strength to conquer a struggle or hoping for the mastering of a skill and those hopes keep us breathing in and out. So if I can have small hope and big hope, what about eternal hope? Because we all know that at any time our next breath won't come. At one point all of us will have that hope fail us. But there must be an eternal hope, one that all the other hopes were built upon, were formed out of. I hold this eternal hope that strengthens all the smaller hopes within the expansion of my lungs. A hope that there is more than this life. The hope that all the constrictions in my heart and strains on my soul will be lifted. Hope for that emptiness in my eyes to be filled and the questions in my mind to be at rest. With every breath I'm hoping for Love to come for me and smooth my every crease that I may finally have life.
Loosens hold, doesn't want to be told; gold
Twirls to the ground, flutters down; brown
We are all leaves.
