Saturday, January 23, 2016

Shadows on the Wall

What is my misconception?

There’s something else beyond
There’s something more

I wish you’d grab my hand and take me out the door

Moving, twisted shadows
Dancing on the wall
Are they living?
Are they breathing?
Light and dark is all I know

Oh, say oh say it isn’t so

He screams at me
He says turn around
Turn around you fool

You only know what you can see
Not every possibility
That’s waiting to be discovered

Just turn around

Wednesday, January 6, 2016


I tossed my heart into the ocean.
The raging waves throw it harshly back and forth.
It is jolted up into the crest of a wave and is infected by the unclean foam.

Next, it is thrust towards the angry water as the wave unleashes its power.
The force is so great that my heart is pounded into the rough ocean floor.
Relentless weeds of the sea unwelcomely embrace my heart.
It is trapped.
It is choked.
It can’t breathe.
The slippery sea weeds refuse to unhand the lost organ, until the mighty water intervenes.
With a startling, forceful pull, the greedy water snatches my heart from the ocean parasites.

Once again, the beating thing is thrown into the clutches of the waves.
It is shoved, pushed, and pulled in every which way.
As the tide rolls in, my heart is slammed into the sides of boulders and rocks,
Along the treacherous shore.
It breaks.
It bleeds.
It can’t fight any longer.

The abused organ eventually stops in a slimy, gritty pit of sand on the shore.
The grains of sand work their way into the cuts and wounds on my heart.
They create a sharp sting.
Sunlight scorches and bakes it in the sun.
The salt has parched my precious heart.
The angry seagulls peck at it and create fresh wounds that sear with new pain.
So unsettled.
So disturbed.
So upset.
My heart.

Many days passed.

A pair of hands appear.
They surround my heart.
Soft yet sturdy hands.
My heart is then cleaned with the purest water.
The relentless stinging ceases.
The cuts, abrasions, and bruises disappear.
My heart regains its rich, lively color.
The precious hands love it tenderly.
A pair of lips gently touch my heart with a kiss. 
They whisper,

I love this beautiful, messy heart.
You are mine.