meeting poetry

{photo by jennifer upton}

I remember where she found me, a step beyond the shelves of

appropriate and good Christian girl.

she found me in the place

where technically, neither of us were supposed to be.

she was forbidden, but only a little, because her big sister

was the right kind of words

the kind that might not send me to hell, the kind that King David

penned and approved.

I found her in the wanna-be classroom, the place where

I hid my black lipstick and let the hair hang into my eyes

she was key-shaped angst and a forbidden road to the required

she whispered, “drink me,” and I obliged.

she was sin

or maybe she was water turned to wine

the kind that they disapproved, but that He raised in a glass

and spoke, “this is My blood.”

she turned me into smoke, the good kind

incense and candle wisps,  

the kind they said would send me down a road too wide

and He and She and I were okay with that. 

throwing down {a poem of sorts}

{via perspective artista}

i've decided to throw down the sword, the one that they put in my hand from the minute i took a breath to see how well i could lift it. they called it Truth, but it didn't match the Words He whispered on the parchment page. they told me that was okay, it wasn't possible for me to understand. not really. they’d tell me, and then it would make sense. 

they promised.

i've decided to cut the cord, to let it go, to turn the hands of the clock back until they hit the point when i shut my eyes so tight that they knew they’d never open again. or at least, not until I turned my head in the direction of the Sun and let the wax melt away.

i don’t know when I looked down into the chalice and saw the wine turned to water because someone decided the miracle was too strong and that it burned going down. it's safer this way, they said, you must be set apart, but never let them smell it on your breath.

there's a lovely gag already fashioned for your feminine mouth, they said. it tastes like sweet things and silence and contentment. you should try it on. we made it for you special. 

but see, i’d rather be covered in dirt and know what the edge of His robe feels like than hold onto the neat and tidy pew-back and never know the way that Israeli dirt and forgiveness smells when it fills up my nose. i’d rather have them make me walk the line because the aroma of Him is so strong on me that they can tell that i’ve been even without me opening my mouth. 

that thing about gripping His robe :: it's been inside me for a long while. it's been ever since i figured out that my hand fit better inside of Rahab's than it did Mary's. i used to want to sit on the alabaster throne with my fingers clutching a scepter and clad all in white, a princess over a kingdom of my own choosing. 

but it didn't take long before i realized that the only alabaster that fit within my grasping fingers was shaped like a perfume jar. 

my tears and i found a safer lodging at His feet. 

and then He breathed. and my bindings caught the wind and flew as far as the east from the west.

i haven't seen them since. 

tribe :: being seen

{via pinterest}

i think i have found the most beautiful word :: tribe. 

and honestly, it's a word i used to hate. there was this movie we watched when i was younger. i don't even remember the name. but this woman called her children "the Lacey tribe" and never told people all their names because "life is short and time is precious."

and it made me feel strange, unsettled, even when i was eight. because why wouldn't time be precious enough to list off your own children's names? why lump them into this vile thing...this tribe?

and then i realized something for the very first time, just yesterday, at almost twenty-three years old :: being part of a tribe is about being known.  to take the idea and make it about being identity-forgotten, to strip away the you-light from this candelabra of tribehood, is to destroy the very essence of what it is to be.

because the Lion sang tribes into existence from the soul of the man who wrapped himself in fur and lied, who worked fourteen years for love, who dared to wrestle in the hour of his unknown. and from him there came twelve, and from one came the One. and there is something so precious, so unique about each tribal voice that led to the breathing of the Most High.

being in a tribe, finding your circle and your family of exhale :: it's about being see. it's about gazing and locking eyes with another, the brush of fingers over your cheek to leave a soft painted blessing on your skin.

{via pinterest}

// because you're seen. 

it's not about being smooshed into some sort of grey-hued mass where you blend in, where you simply are. it's about the circling of arms around you as sisters braid your hair and wind your neck with colour. and there in the caves with the soft lap of the water against the stones, the light flicking and the Light flowing from He-Who-Sees gathered in their midst. 

we see you, unique one. 

we know your name. 

and i know theirs. because i'm their family, and they are mine. and we take the time to see their lives and call each soul by name. just as the Lion who sang the stars, one burning flicker of light at a time, and whispered their names in the darkness. 

dearest daughter, 

I have known you long. 

life breath :: water living

{via pinterest}

today, a dear friend posted of love like water. and i wasn't planning on writing today, simply breathing the light and the breeze into these lungs and resting in silence. but i was gripped tight by words from an unmet friend.

we are all soul-creatures, made to be seen, 

created to be tenderly cradled and adored, 

yet we tremble at the thought of it.

this has become my life. this thing of trembling at love and in awe of tenderness. it's a gift to be a bearer, to the world as well as to this child i carry. 

and so i curl on this couch with breeze ruffling my hair and my eyelashes too, and i inhale tenderness. 

a repeated in out in out in out of life. 

i felt this child move last night for the first time. 

it was nothing more than a single poke to the right side of my navel, and then a pause into silence. and then one more, a tap against my skin, a reminder that this baby is there. a reminder that i am waiting, and i am carrier, and i am life-giver.

and knowing that i am almost halfway there...it's a breath that i can barely handle to take. 

{17 weeks. my own photograph}

but i am living in a place where love washes over, and i'm covered in the tenderness and the trembling. and that's alright, to find the awe in this. 

it's those moments in the dark where we wrap our arms around our knees and kneel within ourselves to the waves of crashing Love that threaten to overwhelm us. it's a tremble, not a cringe. it's a breathing, not a hyperventilation. 

it's a knowing of preciousness that is incomparable. 

it's a breathing, a resting. a perfect trembling.  

 

illusive

{via pinterest}

i feel illusive.
like wind on pavement or dust in darkness.

it's there, and i know it's there. it's fact.
but i feel like it's invisible, like secrets

it's my word for 2012.

down to four days and still only silence. i've sat with Bible open and candles lit and tea cup steaming with fragrance, and i've listened. but this lack of noise, this time of peace, has only led to my heart being filled and peace on white feathers roosting in my soul.

but it's been precious.

because want can sometimes translate to need in that language that only souls speak.  it's one of those mystery, known but unknown. the way Light shines the brightest when there is none and the way words that don't leave the lips can sometimes be the most beautiful.

you are not bound to loss and silence.
for you are not bound to the circles of this world.
all things must pass away,
all life is doomed to fade…
 :: and yet you are not without hope ::

// breath of life :: howard shore //

{via pinterest}

so i'm still wordless. and i'm not rushing it anymore. i'm going to sit and breathe in the tea steam. i'm going to inhale this invisible Glory called grace and dance in the swirl of dustmotes in a sunbeam.

because it will come, just as He promised me it would in that night when He whispered

we will choose, you and I, dearheart. 

i'm rooted in that hill where death was trampled and the Word prevailed and veils tore from sacred top to bottom.

it's a beautiful sort of turbulance, the kind found when storms are settling and everyone feels it deep inside. the wind is hard, but slowing. the rain is tossing, but sweet.

and so i seek. and i wait. because when the word comes, and i know it will, it will be that sweet perfume after a cleansing rain.

it will be worth the wait.

mystery air

sometimes, it's hard to know things.

everyone teaches you like knowing is something you want to do, something that's required before you can exist in the big, wide world all by yourself. we have to learn things like how to tie our shoes and how to walk on the right side of the road so that we don't get hit by a speeding car.

but even when we know these things, even when we know where our feet are supposed to go, we still get hit by a speeding car. don't we all get blindsided, no matter how much we know?

but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way

to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of 

:: air ::

{sarah kay}

so it's not about knowing. it's about being. it's not about knowing everything under the sun, it's about being willing to raise imperfect hands and whisper

my soul magnifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God, my Saviour. 

it's about taking the mystery in and making it become alive instead of locking the Light inside the vault to keep it "safe" from Earth and dirt. because that's what we celebrate a week from tomorrow, this thing of sacred becoming touchable.

this thing of gold and Living Water turning into blood and flesh and dark brown curls over chocolate eyes and gap-toothed grins in the middle of a stable with only a Star's light to herald the Light.

because mysteries are okay. the one who said they were doesn't understand this path we walk, and the Hand we hold, because sometimes it's all about mystery.

it's okay to not know. when all you can do is inhale exhale and inhale again, and that's all that you understand, i promise that it's okay.

and when you gaze into that face of long baby lashes and a soft triangle of milk-fed infancy, remember that this mystery is the earthly picture of another.

you know, the one where a teenager wrapped her arms around the Saviour of the world and kissed His cheek and called Him "Emmanuel."

:: because it's a mystery ::

 God with us, Word to flesh, breath to breath.

and it's okay to wonder, and be full of wonder.

Lundi (Monday)

I'll dissolve when the rain pours in / When the nightmares take me / I will scream with the howling wind / 'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream...Dizzy love turned a star lily pink / And hung above our lids too flushed to blink...I sang my princess fast asleep / 'Cause she was my dream come true...~Owl City, Lonely Lullaby

Once again, another Monday has come around the bend.

And once again, I feel blessed to have awoken this morning.

My decision to keep my Mondays positive (which can be read about more in this post) has been one of the more intriguing aspects of my week. All throughout the week, I've caught myself noting things that I could mention in regards to my "Monday morning blessings."

It's starting to make an impact on more than just the first day of the week.

The rest of my days are starting to catch up...

...for how can I be lost in my own despair when I am continually making note of those gifts which surround me each morning as I arise, and follow me through each movement of the earth around the sun?

• 8. Every single breath I take. (Yes, this one may seem to be rather cliche...however, with the occurances of this past week, particularly over the weekend...this is something for which I dare not fail to give thanks and count as a mighty blessing.)

• 9. Celebrating the end of an era with a small collection of my dearest and most nerdy of Harry Potter-head friends...and even making a few new ones as well...being able to weep openly in a room full of people who know exactly what I'm feeling, as they are all feeling it, as well

• 10. Having one dearest, loving companion in particular who poured themself out before our Father on my behalf...there is no greater honour, and no greater gift that I could receive than to be lifted to the Throne when I myself am too weak to stand.

• 11. The continual blessings I have received regarding July's Inspirational Giveaway, and all those giveaways that are yet to arrive in the coming months

• 12. Finding my missing silver Hedwig earring! Yes, perhaps this is a small thing, but I had been looking for this small treasure for quite some time, and it reappeared right next to my toe after almost two weeks of searching.

• 13. A book read so many times that the pages are worn, and the corners are dog-eared with love. 

• 14. Beautiful, odd, and melodramatic dreams of brilliant colours and unspoken wishes...filling my nighttime hours with sweetness instead of screams.

Yes, perhaps this is an odd collection of beauty.

But these are my blessings, and I will continue to count them until I run out...

...which I know will never occur.

 "When I'm worried / and I can't sleep / I count my blessings / instead of sheep / and I fall asleep / counting my blessings..." ~Irving Berlin, Count Your Blessings (White Christmas)

Silence

Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts. ~Margaret Lee Runbeck

There is something so velvet, so blissful about silence.

Those moments when all distractions fade away and you are completely lost in a perfect moment of soundless thought.

Some view the concept of "silence" as a sign of mental dysfunction, or an awkward moment between friends when there is nothing left to say.

For me, it's the exact opposite.

When there is silence, there is comfort.

The noise ends, the chaos is silenced. It's a glimpse into the comfort of Heaven.

His still, small voice speaks loudest when we cease our storms and just allow our souls to be bathed in soothing calm.

I think that's why God gave us the following truth about our relationships here on earth...

...when you are able to be silent with someone, without a word between you, it is not because you have nothing to say to one another or that a unspoken tedium has been reached.

Not in the least.

You have reached that point of the utmost love. When those moments of pain arrive between two friends, there is such blessed relief in a simple embrace where not a sound need be made.

You both just know.

There is a time and a place for silence. There is an unspoken need in each one of us to have someone understand us at that level.

It's in that moment of silence when you hear the words "...you're going to be okay" the most clearly.

Because that is a picture of our relationship with God.

Does this not make the silence that much more beautiful?

It should.

And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. ~ 1 Kings 19:11-12