On My Own

Perhaps I've been looking at this
from the wrong direction...

Maybe I've been fooling myself,
because I subconsciously wanted to...

It's possible I'm not as scared
as I've convinced myself I am...

Because this could be a new start,
a chance to move forward...

And that's what everyone keeps telling me,
but my heart isn't ready to let go...

I guess I have to find out for myself,
figure out the equation alone...

Just Words

I'm not sure you understand
the meaning that those words have,
or the complexity with which I feel them
when you throw them about so casually.

I'm not joking when I say they scare me,
when I cower in their presence...
it isn't a joke to me,
yet you laugh so easily.

So forgive me,
when I change the subject.

Nail Polish

I have taken up a hobby,
one with which I previously...
dabbled.

It isn't very creative,
nor does it serve a great purpose,
but it takes great precision.

There's the choosing,
then the cleaning,
the shaping,
the painting,
the waiting.

...and in a few short days,
a week if you're lucky,
the chipping.

But something that once
irritated me so,
now gives me happiness.

For once the cycle ends,
it is time to begin again.

Grandpa

A squirrel darted in front of my car today;

I pushed on the brakes to spare it's life.

As I watched it cross to the other side,

a memory hit me...

of a sweet smile and a happy laugh,

tanned, aging skin and a chaise lounge.

And I couldn't help but smile. 

Dear Daughter

Another Dear Daughter post, inspired by wonderful women in my life.

Dear Daughter,
Fitgerald said, "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall."

Right now, I'm hoping and praying that's true. In a way, I guess I already know it is. So, what I'm really trying to say is, keep holding on. Maybe life is difficult right now; maybe it feels like a struggle. But everything will get better. This is one moment in your life... one blip in the much bigger picture.

A close friend and I were chatting, and she reminded me that we only see this one part of our life. We see the immediate, the right now. We see the past, and where we've come from. But God can see the whole picture. He holds our lives in His strong hands. That is one place where we will always be safe.

Fall is coming.
Winter is coming.
Spring is coming.
Summer is coming.

Each new season brings new life in a unique way. Remember that, and keep going.
Always.

Some things are too beautiful for words.
Samantha's Baptism is one of those things.

Time Flies By

One day passes,
then suddenly three
and next thing I know,
it's been a week
a month
a year

And I am changing every day,
so are you.

But minutes become hours
and hours become days,
that become weeks

and suddenly it will be
December,
then May
and August
then December all over again.

And we will be completely different,
but just the same.

Canvas Hands

Hand prints of gratitude
placed on a blank canvas
in colors bright as the
personalities of each student.

A beautiful piece of artwork
to be given to dear friends,
mentors and beloved volunteers,
created by thankful hearts.

The Question of Who

It is not with age
or with experience,
not with emotion
or with lessons learned.

It is not the time,
or the lack thereof,
not with smiles
or with tears.

It is life:

a combination of
happy and sad,
dark and light,
friends and acquaintances;

family and love,
hardship and struggle,
smiles and tears,
accomplishment and gratitude...

that makes us who we are.

Home Sweet Home

It's only been a week or two,
and already I miss it.

The green exterior
and coordinating front door,
welcome all who enter.

And the warmth that hugs me,
from the steps as I walk into
the family room.

But the warmth of the house
is nothing, compared to those
who dwell within.

The thought of home
and the memories makes
everything else seem cold.

Autumn: A Haiku

Red rimmed autumn leaf

Laying sadly on the ground

blow away with wind

Snowy Thoughts

I wrote out my feelings last night.
I scrawled them furiously across
a blank page.

Messy thoughts and angry words,
sentences, both full and broken,
glare at me from the page.

As I read through what I'd written,
fresh tears started to flow again,
running down my cheek.

So I picked up the page hastily,
and wiped away my tears,
then watched the evidence
float away on the wind like snow.

In Flight: A Poem in Haiku

I am not a bird.
Because you are not a bird.
Can't we please be birds?

Nor am I a tree.
Because you are not a tree.
Wouldn't it be nice?

I am not the sky.
It's because you cannot fly.
But I have strong wings.

I shall fly away.
For I want to be a bird.
High above the trees.

Blackout Poetry

I found a new style of poetry today that falls under the creative destruction category: blackout poetry. So I picked up a few $1 vintage hardbacks at Et Cetera Thrift in Seward and went to it (It's hard to read, but I want to show you the beauty of it on the page):

Go On

"I've got to confront the past alone, without

you.

I'll get my head on straight.

In the meantime,

let happiness consume

that spectral darkness at the edges

and

In that instant,

I'm okay.

I'm happy.

I really am.

I 

go on."

When do the Wells Dry Up?

With shaking fingers,
she put her hands on the wheel

She turned the music up
a little louder and let the words
carry her out of her own mind

She belted along and harmonized
and drove down a road under
a darkening sky

And for awhile it kept the demons
at bay

Until the words of a song were
so close to her heart
that tears streamed down her face
without her permission

And silent sobs escaped between
stanzas, as the sun continued to set
and the road stretched before her

What would it be like in three months
when the road went much farther
and the space between escalated?

Platonic Heart

Plato teaches that there are
three aspects to each human being:
the mind
the heart
and the will

And he goes on to say that
the heart and the will
aren't so reliable;
they are ever-changing,
and therefore you can't count on them

But the mind, he says, when well trained,
is the most reliable thing with which we are gifted

I'm not so sure I believe Plato,
because my mind may be reliable
but what good will it do me
if my heart refuses to listen?

Air Behavior

The Nebraska air
is just as indecisive
as you.

One day he decides
to be chilly all day,
while others he
chooses to be stifling.

And we could have
a day of clouds,
then wake up to
a shining sun.

So I never know,
from one day to another,
how you or the air
will behave.

September

A hazy blue sky
covered haphazardly in clouds
as the trees sway in a
slight September breeze

And the bird outside my window
tweets a sweet melody
interlaced with memories of
hotter days and the bright sunsine
of summer

But the days grow shorter
and the nights stretch farther,
a crisp chill in the air reminds me
that winter is just around the corner...

Places

This is where my heart and my writing took me this week. In all honesty, I would go back tomorrow if I could. I know I’ve said it before, but here I go saying it again, I don’t think Europe is done with me just yet

September 11th

A moment of silence
for those on the plane

For those in the buildings

For those who went in
without hesitation

For those who stopped one

For those who lost one

For those who remember
where they were and
what they were doing

A moment of silence
to remember

Butterfly Memories

Sometimes the memories hurt

they wrap themselves around my throat

and make it momentarily hard to breathe.

Tears flow freely, as I remind myself

that it’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to feel.

Sometimes I forget that.

For it is the emotion that reminds us:

We’re Alive.

And in this moment, in this memory,

I am very alive

...because my heart is pounding

and the butterflies in my stomach

are flying as if there’s no tomorrow.

Fall Festival

Laughter rings out

and kids run around

as music plays and

my heart sings.

Notebook

Memories stuffed and taped
on thick white pages
in an evergreen notebook

Words scrawled and
verses dictated,
slowly filling the space
with personal thoughts
and encouraging words
from God above

And leaves from pathways,
parking lots and playgrounds,
some even taken from a tree itself,
preserved in between pages of words
pressed and taped...

Memories that I will remember,
long after I’ve forgotten.

Character Development

The story is inside me

I can feel the characters

tugging at my mind

All it takes is a tiny moment of silence, 

or a good song in the car, 

and I see the unwritten smile

of a character 

just begging to be let out

This One's for You

I wrote you a letter
one you'll never see
I sealed it up and
put it in my handbag
hidden under layers of
debris.

I had every intention
of giving it to you that night
but my hands were shaking
and my mind was racing
so I left it where it was

And the words I said that night
were not the words that
I'd written down with such care
they were stuttered and stammered
and laced with awkward laughter

But the words came out just the same
and I threw that letter away.

Sunflower

Field full of sunflowers,
wild as the wind
and free like birds in the sky

Yellow, deep and dark
like a September sunset
in fields full of tall green grass
and dusty, drought crops
set against an eye-blue sky.

Waiting

Maybe the words
have been inside
all along

Waiting patiently,
more patiently than I

And one day they'll pour out,
when the idea clicks and
the pieces fall together
like a pile of leaves
from an autumn tree

Wish Upon a Star

I wish
every once in a blue moon
that I could go back

Back to an easier time
somewhere called the past
with the knowledge I have now

And things would be different,
I would be the same...
the person I am today that
I never knew back then

I wish that I could
change the future,
the future that has already
past.

For even the star
upon which I could wish
has already changed.

But if I did,
if I could,
would I truly be me?

"Why wish upon a star 
when you can pray
to the One who created them?"

(Quote by Anonymous)

September Sunset

A pink poppy sits on the horizon,
bursting around a late afternoon sun,
early September in Nebraska.

And the grass, which has been neglected
by the elements this season,
seems so green against the cloud adorned
blue sky that is slowly fading to gray.

I am slowly fading too,
listening to country music
with the wind blowing
in the window and through
my hair.

Coffee House

Coffee house tucked away
in a line of stores on a busy street

with characters straight out of a book
that hasn't yet been written

that make a statement with
ink and piercings, dreadlocks
ratted perfectly on more than one

and the only thing speaking louder
than the bumper stickers on more than one
Prius in the parking lot,

are the books they hold like shields
and build up around themselves
on the almost clean tables