the beginning of the ends meet

I'm hearing melodies in my head,
and I feel a rhythm pulsing in my bones --
A building anthem rising
Amid my heart that's torn apart.
My hands are slowly getting weaker,
I cannot seem to find,
The strength to pick up where we left off,
Strong legs to leave it far behind.

You hear the tyrant wind howling,
Tearing flesh down to the bone.
You see the whole world wakefully sleeping,
A key without a home.

I know I said I was resolved,
Three I's, no you's, no we.
I could make up my own mind to
Never need you, never dream.
And though we said we didn't want this
No, not this way at all.
I'd still do it all again, dear,
Just to know that I could fall.

We're all a sleeping forest.
Lines of grey around the light.
Yet in this dark December,
I wish it was you holding me tight.

For a mandolin and a banjo...

Eddie Vedder and I are getting our acts together.
Well, he's singing about change and rising up, facing the world and shunning society's ways of doing things, and I - I am thinking that it sounds great AND like a lot of work.

Feel my pain

If you could,
Just maybe translate something for me.
See, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel,
And I don't know how I can react.
Because I don't feel.
Some might think I have tapped into,
A Midas' touch if there ever were one.
But I would just like to:
Cry when I am sad
Dance in joy
Reflect the pain I feel,
In some way, when I am forgotten, judged,
snubbed, ignored and all else.
I would just like to feel it for my self.
It is so detached from me.
Can someone feel it for me?

On things undeserved and hope

With all of the change
Still You have not forgotten
All things will be right

A lament, not a complaint.

Cashmere smooth
The words spoke softly
Leaving no room for hope
And no hope of change
Quietly disquieted
Surfacing discontent
I look at calm waters
And think all life is good within

Loud dissonance
Churning of the very foundations
Crying out for answers
To the questions that we stand against
Loud and demanding
Attention commanding
Watching an ocean of fury
And seeing nothing good at all

What two waters should I choose?
You know what I will
I long for easy answers
And I'm afraid to drown

[Blank]

This is for the times when trust seems like letting go of your foothold.
When repetition and frustrations become routine.
So we can look back, and we can see over broken roads;
And we can trust in a Strength stronger than determination.
A Fire brighter than the sun.
A Hope weaving in creation,
Beautiful stories yet untold.

Still, I sit here.
That same old damned feeling.
No Midas touch, and no gold, just withering.
And I am stretched out, a broken road
Waiting for The Strength stronger than my determination.
The Hope of all creation.
Please, whisper Your stories in my heart.

Iron Lung

I would like to stay down a little longer,
To hold my sides and wonder what might be.
Imagining what if my lungs were as fragile,
As delicate as I?

Because as I kiss the floor, I dream
That life could pass over like a parade
And I could awake and watch the end.
Safe on the sides.

But they're cold, and they're strong.
They take in deep, harsh air -
So real that it's choking me.
Oh, life choking out of me.

"Your Love is strong"

I like to imagine sometimes that I struggle alone. Even though they say that misery loves company, it would seem that it loves to feel unique. Maybe it loves to have others around to witness its existence, but it definitely likes to be alone it its issues. Because, if others knew what it was going through, surely they could not stand up without complaining; surely they would not be able to grapple with it better than us. Right?
And then, sometimes, I am mowed over by the realization that we're not alone. Perhaps no one goes through the same things at the same time, but I refuse to believe anymore that we are unique in our troubles.
I like to imagine that my questions are unique. That I struggle with a new issue no one has puzzled over before. That my answers will weigh heavily in the end, because they are the first of their kind. Some pioneers of a solitary field.
I guess I have a much bigger imagination than I give myself credit for.
I like to imagine myself so alienated, removed and distant from any rescue. To pretend that there are waters that Your Love cannot surmount, oh, God. To think that I can hide from it. Because, sometimes, Your love feels like breaking. Rending. Tearing, and not healing. And I'm silly, I know, that I would long to stay the same when so much surgery of the heart would heal me. So maybe, just keep working. And help me to be still.

Why do we travel at night?

We're driving on these one lane highways through the rugged mountains and down in the deep ravines. Even though I brought the directions, it's hard to see most of the time while we drive in the evening. I turn the lights on bright, rev the engine, check the odometer and realize it's not been so long as I thought.

Why do we travel at night?
When every turn comes unexpected,
Through a landscape I cannot detect.

Every day is like a road trip. Miles from the beginning, but miles and miles to go. Sometimes I feel like I'm winning, and then I look out ahead and can't see so far as I'd hoped. I look in the rearview, pause to listen to a line in my favorite song, and think that I wouldn't have it any other way.

Through a landscape I cannot detect.

Caught in the rain

I know this was all my idea...
Never have been one to watch the sky for change.
Though, I have wasted some sunny days,
anticipating rain.
And I have shunned some happinesses,
because of imagined pain.
So, when I left my house to stretch,
both life and limb, and step outside
to breath a while, I was certain,
positive even, that I wouldn't need my
rain coat.

I'm not sure, but I think I've seen this ending before...

head down, feet forward.
eyes on the prize and the prize on the mind.
conservancy is the name of the game,
unless it's time we're wasting,
time we kill.
there will always be plenty of that.
so spend freely, little children,
spend and don't look back.

everything is fine, don't you pay no mind.
to the wreck that we leave behind,
it's not your fault and it's not mine

change is on the wings of the winds,
and the whole earth tosses and turns.
but how do you prepare for a life,
when the only life we've learned
is behind the next door?
when my only virtue seems to be hearalded
for always moving on, but not stopping
in the tracks of some Other Beauty

This time

Struggle.
Life begins with a struggle.
And, I'm told, it ends with one, too.
I'm looking at my empty hand,
and I believe it is true.
I'm seeing words I've longed to hear,
echoed in just the right way.
Things that have gone so long undisturbed,
and so I thought that they were
under control somehow, some way.
Why you? Why now? Why this?
So many crashes, and not enough time between.
I'm trying to keep my head.
But it's spinning,
and all I want is what will bring me down.
I am my worst enemy.
And so, I struggle.
Life begins like this.
and, I'm told, it ends like this, too.