#FMF – Return

He gathered
The land
He had spoke
Into being
Shaped it with
Great care
And precision
Not just any creation
Set apart
From the moment
His hands
Began
To set the shape
His breathe
Animating
Making fully alive
Created from
Simple ingredients
That in
A Divine Designers hands
Became created
Mankind

So often
We lose sight
Of our frailty
From the specks
From which
We are created
We see ourselves
As more than we are
More than
We were created to be

It is only when
Those solemn words
Are spoken
“To dust you shall return”
That we remember
We are created
We are not infinite
We are stepping toward death
Every moment
We are alive

And yet
That is not the end
This return
To what we were
Signals the start
Of something new

Image: Unsplash- Kunj Parekh edited in Canva

Joining with my dear community Five Minute Friday where we gather around one word, write four five minutes and then gather together to share and read.

Advertisements

on the horizon

She could taste it on the wind
a particular hardness
a flavor of regret
a reckoning was coming

The luminous sky
gave no hint of the
rage to come

but she knew the mountains
could embrace moisture
like a person holding a grudge

and abruptly
the clouds would converge
in a harrowing shadow
and pour swelling wrath
down on the valley below

#FMF – Pause

It is hard to describe.
There is a sharp turn to the right and you make a split second decision to enter the parking lot.
You saw it coming on the map. “Observation point” it declared.
As you climb the switchbacks and meander through the redwoods, your eyes are filled with wonder.
Exiting the car I don’t think I could begin to comprehend what spread out before me.
It hadn-t really felt like ascent as we drove the miles deeper into the park. But we found ourselves on the edge of a precipice.
Farther than my eye could see stretched the expanse of National Park. It was majestic. Raw beauty.
But it wasn’t until some people with binoculars caught my attention did I understand the immensity of what lay in full view. There were people scaling the large domed rock, people who looked the size of ants when looking through binoculars.
I took a moment. I paused. I tried to truly grasp that our Creator had handcrafted this beautiful scene and it was more than I could comprehend.
And yet my gratefulness to Him for sharing this gift cannot be measured.

Photo is my own, edited with Canva

#FMF – Secret

Joining up with many fellow writers over at Five Minute Friday as we write on a one word prompt for five minutes. Be sure to check out what those around you have written. This place is one of my favourite communities!

Prompt: Secret

Its been about two years. So much confusion, frustration and anger.

From the beginning I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I kept convincing myself otherwise.

Its not the first time this has happened but perhaps this time it will be the last.

I’ve always found that being just friends with members of the opposite sex (who are single) has been a challenge. I have developed a mindset that can’t see past attraction in the beginning.

There have been friendships that have come to a place of true friendship, though in many I have still questioned my underlying reasons.

I have talked about him with few peope because honestly I had heard enough “Bad idea Janel” from friends.

I said that we were over and done so many times but then I would give up being mad and try again. I don’t know why…perhaps he would be different, perhaps I was delusional.

There were nights I could hardly sleep becaus I was so bothered by what he said and I would try to make sense of it.

There were times when I would be so angry that I would blow up and tell my parents what went down and they would say “why are you doing this again?”

And one night, i said yes to a charade that nearly choked me as I realized just how far from respecting myself I had fallen.

Three weeks ago….i had another conversation with someone who said “Walk away. Do not give in again and pretend that everything is fine”

Its been tough. It is best. Its a constant battle to not berate myself for what the last two years entailed.

That is one of my secrets

Burning flags

I should have known
From the beginning
There were so many red flags
It looked like a construction site
Gone wrong

At first there was panic
And I revisited
The sins of my youth
In my head
Berating myself
Over and over
Revisiting each wound
It felt like a battlefield
Scars and wounds riddling
And no healing to be found

And then
A strange peace
A word I don’t remember
That sent a tidal wave
Through me
And helped me forget
Washing that all from my mind
From my memory

/ / / /

When you light a match
The fire has limited scope
It burns what is consumable
And then dies slowly
But playing with matches
Usually results in a burn
There is a surface scorch
The pain is real
But its forgetable
Numbed finger tips last only so long

But fire
Also mesmerizes
It lulls
There is a complacency
That happens
When you forget
Its power
Its ferocity
Its destruction

/ / / /

And so
I entered the fray
Eyes wide open
Or half closed
Perhaps fully blinded

I made excuses
For you
I thought I saw
What others didn’t
There were glimpses
Of another you
But they appeared
so irregularly
So fleeting
I though them
Figments
My mind mad

There was a spin
On everything
Nothing was good enough
And your words
Your thoughts
Your world
Was all that mattered
You pushed boundaries
You spoke harshness
Confusion and mind games
Reigned

Over and over
Fury rose up in me
And I swore
No more
And yet I returned
Like a moth
To a flame
Intrigued by light
By warmth
By death

And I did die
Slowly
Over time
So gradually
That I was unaware
Piece by piece
Parts of me were consumed

One day
I said yes
To a proposition
That when spoken
On my lips
Showed just how far
I had let
Myself
My heart
My mind
Be consumed
By you

And I admitted
In whispered words
“We’re using one another”
And even though
I choked
As they passed my lips
I walked out the door
And continued
The façade

There was a
Flicker of shame
That day
An ache that registered
Heart deep
But barely
Touched my surface

I looked up words
Like toxic, obsessive and addiction
Because I knew
All three applied
And I was drowning

I longed for a look from you
But then resented it
I looked for words from you
But then felt the trap
The tiring
The exhaustion
The constant battle
You waged

Wounds were never enough
You wanted a death blow
And ceasing the fight
Leaving the battle
Like a sullen
Spoiled, entitled child
When the war wasn’t enough
You turned your back
On the carnage that remained

I’d like to blame you
For my scars
But some are self inflicted
And I chose this
Macabre dance
Time and again
Even though
I heard the death dirge

I thought I was immune
No, I believed
There was no thought
My mind
My rational self
Lay chained
Silenced
Beaten into submission

Because truth
Would reveal
Just how deep
This noose
Was tightening
And my fight
For breathe
Felt like control

I swatted away
Truth from the lips of others
Like a pesky nuisance
Not letting it
Penetrate too deep
As to keep me alive
Give me breathe
Help me break free

I clung to you
The idea of you
The mirage of you
Though my finger tips burned
Identity being erased
730 days
Innumerable minutes

And I had become
A shade
A mirage
A remnant
Unrecognizable
Invisible

Few knew
How deeply
You had enveloped me
My mask held tight
My armor in place
I mirrored falsehood
That isolated me
Farther under
And further in
Deeper than I imagined

It ended
In agonizing abruptness
Or perhaps
The finality seemed quick
But the aftershocks
Continued well after

Seeing light
Actually finding it
Knowing it
Acknowledging it
Felt excrutiating
It burned
But unlike before
This light, this flame
This fire
Destroyed pretense

Silence
Fabrication
Had left me
Skin and bones
Ravaged by the truth
And barely holding on
Gasping for air

The moonlight
Too much for me
Unwilling to be
Unmasked
In the brazen heat
Of the noonday sun
Moon rays
Illuminated
The trail that
Littered my path
A kaleidoscope
Of pieces

I had surrendered
Who I was
To become
A ghost of myself

Two weeks
14 days
And I still feel
The aftershocks

I grapple with phantom shackles
My range of movement
Limited by former restraints
My wings are recovering
But I’m still lame
Perhaps this limp
Is my rememberence
My atonement
My freedom

#FMF – Include

Joining up with these cool people over at my fave place to link up. One word, five minutes, write and then visit others who have written too 🙂

#FMF – INCLUDE

Once
His fingers
Had performed
Majestic symphonies
Played
With his head flung back
And eyes closed
As the music
Coarsed thru him

With his eyes closed
In surrender
He failed to notice
That his glance
Was not as crisp
As it once was
The lines began
To waft and wane
The notes dancing
Off the page
Creating chaos
Rather than
What he knew
As rhapsody

With tears
Coarsing down his face
He reached out
Touching the page
Willing his fingers
To imprint
The melody
Traced with great care
Each digit
Resting upon
The according note

Moving his hand
From the page
Back to the keys
He willed his mind
To include
What his fingertips read
And translate it
Into the symphony
He once knew

Image: Unsplash – Isaac Ibbott

#FMF – Adapt

Joining up with fellow writers at Five Minute Friday to share our thoughts in five minutes on one topic. Its always great reading what others have written and how they have been inspired

#FMF – Adapt

There wasn’t alot
Of fabric left
The dress had seen
Better days
But it was something
She held fast to

Her grandma
Had sewn it
Piece by piece
From some yards of linen
Carefully preserved
In folds
For a special project
Her first daughter
To be born
Such a gift
Warrented
The cutting
The sewing
The forming
Of something lovely
From the fabric

And when
The daughter arrived
she filled its folds
With joy
And promise

One day
She grew to big
For the special dress
And it was again
Folded up
For someday

Her own mother
Who had once
Graced these folds
Had brought out
The fabric
so carefully hidden away
And had pressed
And readied it
For her own
Soon to arrive one

And now I stand
She stands
And holds the linen
In soft folds
In my hands
In her hands

And she knew
That any
Further adaptation
To the dress
Would remove
The memories
Embedded
In threads
Careful hand stitching
In breathes
Prayers breathed over
A little one asleep
In this dress

And while she waited
Her hand rubbing her belly
Wishing peace
On its inhabitant
She hung the dress
Its aged fabric well loved
In anticipation
Of her own daughter

Image: Unsplash – Caroline Hernandez edited in Canva