10/22/2004

Railroad Track Abandoned

I am relaxing in the slow swell of a quiet existance. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I am awake. This silence is a thick humidity that sticks to my face and dampens my armpits despite the cold, dry air. The reflection I see of myself is dimming behind a harsh honesty. I have been in a dream up until now. I have wept and laughed at nothing until now. All the childish illusions of immediacy and passion are being swallowed and causing my stomach to twirl and flip like an acrobat. But they will find their disintegration in the quick flush of time's toilet. Tick-tock. Even now I feel like a part of myself is being lost forever. But that self was always temporal and never eternal. But I'm sad to see it go nonetheless.

I feel like a railroad track, abandoned. Quiet. Still. The only sound is the moaning wind through trees and barbed-wire fences. Rain has penetrated the ground that I am bolted to and a small tuft of grass rise only to be killed by October's icy winds. Snows will come and cover me until the sun heats up my tracks and evaporates them. When the wind gusts long and violent, it feels like the vibration of an approaching train. Even if it was a train it was far away and changed direction, changing my hope to disappointment. Will the heat and the cold cause my metal to rust and crack like fragile aged bone? Will the dust and pebbles erode their way over me until I am nothing but a dirt path? Will scavengers rip my ties up for their gardens and structures? What will become of me?

It's all silly but profound. I wait in God's hand watching His plan unfold in unexpected ways. I sleep and work on auto-pilot wondering when He will call upon me to change my world. There is something romantic about isolation. I have stepped backward into the grey area while others have stepped forward into recognition. I've lived so foolishly that it's time to enjoy the wisdom of moderation. Patience is injected into my heart with an invisible needle. Today is all there is and tomorrow does not exist. The past has fallen into the ground where it will fertilize the future. This moment is all I have and I won't give it up for a dream of what could be or what could have been. Autumn is outside lifting leaves into whirlwinds and soaking pine needles. Winter is yawning in the colors and will exhale a chill very soon. But today I flex my cold fingers and bring my palms together in prayer. While the world grows ripe with options.

10/15/2004

A Kitten Hug

I went to the animal shelter the other day. The dogs barked at me and the sound of it echoed painfully off the cement walls. It was loud and mournful. I went past them to the room with the cats and kittens. They knew that I had fingers that could let them out of their cages. They meowed and one of them actually reached through the bars of the cage with both front paws and grabbed my face. I didn't take any of them home. It was sad but it didn't make me want to make a rash decision about owning one of them. The last thing I want to do is be the kind of pet owner that let's their animal end up there. Right now I am afraid I couldn't give my pet the attention they deserve. I want to love whatever pet God gives me at whatever time. I went to the shelter because I wanted a hug. Mission accomplished.

I have come to the realization that I go through emotional cycles. Some days of the month I am content and full of joy. Other days I am a spoiled brat who stomps her foot at God. Then there are those days when I feel my heart reaching for someone. Most of my efforts to find a suitable mate have failed. Ok, all of them have failed. It's time to shut my heart up and get Someone else to do the job. Who could be a better matchmaker than God? I mean, it's His plan anyways, and the more surprised I am at the match He chooses for me, the less I understood His plan. At the same time, I don't put anything past God. He could lead me into the arms of a handicapped, 35-year old, ex-hindu, mexican pastor! My match could be an over-weight recovering alcoholic widower with three kids and a receding hair line. He could also be a young handsome Texan from an evangelical family who speaks five languages and has traveled the globe on mission trips. Haha! This is fun. I know one thing about the man I will marry: he will love the Lord Jesus. Otherwise it wouldn't work. He would be jealous. Plus, I am such a piece of work that I doubt any man could handle me unless he had the complete security that God Almighty was going to take care of us.

I feel a little bit like that kitten waiting for someone to take me home. But I am not a reject or a prisoner anymore. God has adopted me. Now I rest in His arms and ask Him to make me into a wife of noble character for my future husband here on Earth. I know it will take time, maybe forever...

...and perhaps I'll never marry. Right now, I don't feel okay with that thought. I like the idea of Jesus' love for the church being revealed in the marriage of man and woman. I am willing to wait for that revelation-style marriage as long as it takes. I don't need a so-called 'marriage' based on dependencies. I will wait for the good stuff. In the meantime I'll sing and dance and become a woman worthy of such a marriage. With Your Spirit in my veins, You make me right as rain.

10/06/2004

Love is Waiting for Death

waiting for love is death
a heart slowing under a palm
spitting blood in streams to my limbs
causing a drug to split my nerves
nightlight of the soul

your face with holes eyes
swimming sight through sound waves
the yes in them
running it's fingers through my ears
stroking imagination whirring

say nothing and shade begins
as clouds sink towards the earth
beading on prickled skin
mist inhaled moistens a salty cheek
and still nothing

so dancing through floods I'm dry
my smile is never weak
ambition with two hands on my back
single handedly I have created you
the best man I have known

now can you love what I have made you
shimmering with coats of wet paint
the truth now dripping from your elbows
there you see me through liquid curtains
blood on my fingertips

never let me have you
how is death to be ready for love
when I love death
it's embrace is never cold
never unwelcome




(c)2004 diana