Sweet White Touch

I said something. Something maybe I shouldn’t have.

I said something vulnerable—not fully thought-through and still too attached to my soul to let fly from my arms. And I truly don’t know why I did it. I was fully aware of my feelings as they took my thoughts out on a whim and lead them to this decision.

I was high on my little-kid love dreams that I secretly hoped would come true. In that half state of sleepy intoxication it dawned on me that this might very well be the first, and last, moment of sweet white touch.

I couldn’t live like this forever.

I  couldn’t live like this again.

So I decided to hold this opportunity’s hand while it was here, savor this moment, and not lick my fingers when it had passed.


the night is my own

I wish I could wrap myself up in words and never let go. For there is no shape or size within language and my body is only a whisp–only smoke.

The night is mine to do with as I please. Perhaps I will spend it sketching and sitting cross-legged as my stained fingertips smell of fresh lead or in the arms of my father’s armchair, sipping on soaking tea leaves.
Maybe the clock’s evening ticks will be drowned out by the rush of twinkling notes streaming through my headphones. And afterward playing tabletop games in all shapes and sizes.
Or better yet, go to bed early and smile at the ceiling while my eyes waft off to the realm of rest. So many choices, so much exposure… I could choose to push it away and enclose myself in false security,

for false security after all is better than the absence of real comfort.

But I’ll choose to accept all of it and stand my ground. I only get one life to live. Why should I shove it away into a box and try to forget about it? Why wait to be satisfied? My life–my night–is my own, to do with as I please. Every option teeters precariously upon each point in time and multitudes of decision lay open to me.

Life’s a balance.

I’ve Missed It

I feel like I’m all played out, and I want the words to flow.
They aren’t flowing anymore.
I lost something.
Something big.
A thing that
lived and I
used to

But it comes and goes, so I’m still breathing. I’m still here. Which is a good thing.
I’m just waiting. For a hand to break through my mind and insert the words that I’ve so fondly missed. Words have become a foreign object to me that I must put up to the light to study. Oh language, how I’ve taken you for granted! ~

I was scared of losing myself in this world I landed in
Now I worry about what would have happened if I hadn’t.
Trying to remember traces of the dreams I handed in
to my fears,
Now what I face is the task of re-beginning.

I can’t seem to find my way
Around these corridors.

I’m sneaking past the corner of my old life reinvented.

I’ve decided that the day I turn back to the shore is the day I’ll finally appreciate how
it feels
to be alive

Photographs upon the wall tell the story of a girl
Who dreamed of flying under sunsets and over the horizon.
She could finally tell herself, looking from above the world,
That what she’d yearned and fought and lived for
was worth anticipating.

I’ve decided that the day I turn back to the shore is the day I’ll finally appreciate how
it feels
to be alive

Quiet, Caring, Unsure, and Understanding
Lover of Christ, beauty, and health
Who feels alone, often doubtful, and possibly every other feeling the world has to offer her
Who fears misunderstanding, rejection, and boredom
Who needs true, honest friends, other people, and a break from her thoughts
Who would like to see her older brother soon, all of her globally scattered friends, and a satisfied smile staring back at her in the mirror
Who will someday travel the world and learn the art of moderation.

Let’s Talk

Let’s talk a bit, shall we? Let’s listen to the sounds bouncing around the air and plug them into our brains like the answer to some algebra equation. Slowly, we pick out the words world, leaders, love, peace...

A lot of people say that the world needs peace. That if only innocent people weren’t dying, then maybe we would stand a better chance against reality. They say the world needs a break from hunger and poverty and that things would be better if more people had more food and money.

Education, safety.

The words float above our heads and some die trying to reach them. A little girl reaches, just to clasp one trembling small hand around a chance at survival, a chance at thriving so that mommy doesn’t have to live in a cadboard box anymore surrounded by the stink of her own filth.
Yes, I believe the world needs many things. I know that there are suffering families and suffering people without families. And I realize that I don’t know half of what pain really is.

Yet still there lies life and this spherical mass of water and sand we call home.
Our home needs many things, but I think one thing we need most– the one thing that will change the world inside out, little by little, is people who care.

People who take things seriously and are not afraid to show how much love they have– how much desire they have. My community is in dire need of those who have not yet learned to be ashamed of how much light they hold in their hands. Or better yet, those who have realized all the light they hold but choose to not quietly fold their hands in their lap.

We need people who don’t nonchalantly turn everything into a joke just so they can laugh at it. No, we need people who are not afraid to go deep. Not afraid to put in the scuba mask and delve down into the murky depths of the unknown. It’s dark and it’s lonely, but that’s exactly why we need those who will hold their breath and jump in anyway. It’s uncharted land, but that’s why we need those explorers.
They are the unsung heroes who give attention to the little smatterings in life. People who take good care of things, live deliberately, take time to be thorough, but overall, have respect for every possibility.
Minds that are open and fine-tuned to picking out the greatest priorities… the ones who are not afraid of “talking about it” are the ones who end up making the most noticeable impact.

And I realize I may not know exactly what I’m talking about, but at least I’m willing to talk about it. And I hope that maybe you are too.

Folds of Laughter

One corner up then one corner down.
Snip, cut, tape, fold.
We’re making paper fly.
A cockpit and wings and a tiny tailgate.
Little by little a picture emerges,
A process that is easy for some and hard for others.
Hands helping hands and twisting colors.
Our lopsided creations make faces turn upward and think of flying machines.