Intake

blessings engulf me as i look around me, amazed at the just-power of God; His undying & committed chord connecting all of which that has unfolded in my life recently.

I have met a man with that special kindness my soul has long longed for, a man with eyes that stretch the way blue skies carry-on unbounded, a man whose heart is as deep & nourishing as water running-free in a selfless ocean. 

I love him with a steadiness that grounds me, how the earth seem to circle endlessly, yet his love is the center bringing-forth all of which is good to me. I thank God for guiding me in finding a soul so familiar, so alike; it called upon me to teach me what unconditional love is, for my soul to respond instantly.

my heart is still-at-peace, inside a fullness of a growing-love that has gratitude glued at each intake.

May God bless you, my love, for having me discover myself in ways I could never describe. 

May God bless our lives together with a flow of a generous joy, running-free at the beginning & end of each intake. 

a woman, becoming

you held my hand, the way you would a responsibility; with an immediacy that produced no calculations & the soft-spoken honesty of a sure language; softening a heart out of a mean & cruel isolation 

my days unfolded in growing passions; with the tender console of a man who evoked strange yet familiar senses in me; pages in me, parts of me, I had never dared touch before, a man devoid of the vain flattery of a lawless society, a man with the firm tone of a moral constitution & virtue 

With you, I feel like a woman becoming; arriving at maturity, surely, securing a strength in self with the quiet privacy of a determined purpose, adorned with a love of gravity; free of the insincerity & pretense of understanding, held-in a delicate mood of a fine comfort & companionship unlike any other

love like the gentle-kiss of an early spring, I am filled with the beauty & grace of serenity; grateful to the Almighty for blessing me with a man whose heart as generous & giving as the ocean, a man with a fondness resting-in solid grounds; certain, kind & unspoiled grounds.

Hopeful

So many women (myself include) often fall under the terrible trap of giving the (passing) men in our lives too much credit 
No man has built anything for you, darling, the battles, the suffering, the relentless journey laid ahead of us is one we'll march all on our own 

It is a blessing when God sends a man with the understanding of the seasons by his side; one who admires the cross & fights we go through without rushing to claim the gold underneath 

It is such a frightening thing to hold your voice in your hands & stand tall against it all

We are so ridiculously drugged with the discolored misconceptions of love that we accept, endure & allow to be slapped down & over with any awful gloom clouding our better judgement - disguised as love

 The truth is that shimmering light shining in the depth of darkness; the labor & hard work is all you, the dry place to water is also yours to do 

Do not settle for the painting-over done by beastly men, the garden clothed in that early morning is the inner peace you'll learn to nourish 

Love is feasted upon so many undeserving tongues, but that generous blue sky no matter the hidden ruins always awakes to be swept over by the hopeful sun.  

Here I Am

As honest as I can be; I do not hide in shivers of where my thoughts will take me; digesting a relationship that kept me in a dreadful state of inner war & struggle; a permanent expression of grief, anger & resentment.

Love was never meant to hurt.

Love doesn’t beat you to leave you in doubt, cursing every immodest compromise.

Love shouldn’t birth evil impulses in every breath it takes.  

I blame the weakness rooted in a boy for the way he cursed Love; a boy that is too crippled in his own fears to face his own inadequacies & shortcomings of character, a boy that is too rigid, yes & too blown in an inflated, deluded image of self to think anything deeply wrong with him.

Be aware of the weakest of the wicked; a boy like a misguided blend of contradictory washed-up statements, serving nothing but his own selfishness, leaving more & more disappointments in every course he takes.  

We live in an age crowded with those with the appearance of men, but share nothing of the victorious bravery, dignity, wisdom & good character of the men who walked with our fathers. Those are the unbearable & ignorant kind; fixed in bad habits, slaves to the empty amusements & reflections of the mirror.

Be aware of those ruled by the tasteless behavior of the company they’re with.

We ought to be stopped in our paths by the likes of those, how else are we to know that love was never meant to exhaust nor drain your strength with every attempt? That love was never a superficial effort carrying malicious intents.

There is a false alluring charm that leads you to that frame of abusive love, but be careful behind the frame lies the ugly worms that will disfigure your entire world; turning you into something resembling nothing; a mere anxious & tired spirit.

Love is not a product of the circumstance. That is the destructive kind; that journeys violently in a misuse & abuse of power, sacrificing everything in its ill pursuits. 

Take notice of that stripped deceiving-mask; it will reveal that difficult awful truth.

Do not be carried away with wishful thinking, disappointed hope is always just that, disappointed.

I have drank a poison of the bitterest kind, yet here I am, sharpened & relaxed in my power, in a better & overstretched understanding of myself, my nature & that tender softness I have walked into the belly of the beast with, walked out without losing a drop of. 

الحَمْدُ للهِ

There Used To Be Lights Here

there's an unloosed dull oppression that wanders off alone, so far & out of sight, darkening & tossing the mind into a grave-like state. there used to be lights here; lights that would tell stories i would lay here & wait for the air to fill me out with kind words again.

my mother tells me that i lack the good fortune of patience, she says my heart is a delicate glass that i leave hard & scratched open. i know she is right, she knows i am too firmly fixed to lean-in the right way. i used to feel God's love stretching the earth beneath me, my soul moved me to fine waves of a thankfulness that never left me hungry. deep into dreamless days, i woke up on a day; flung floating on an empty page.

this, here, this single page right here.

there used to be lights here.

there used to be a dozen lights; unspoiled & untouched by the figures of horrors. there is a difficult nakedness that i am trying to cover. oh God, hide me into a stream & allow me to seek comfort there.

there used to be lights here.

oh God, i am terrified of the bare forgotten night that has fallen here.

Tides

a love that i have been weighted to wait for, like the end of my favorite songs when i grasp a little sigh of relief at how easy it is to surrender to a solace at the hand of another, i understand how far you have travelled to get here love. i am more tightly closed off that i'd like to be, unlikely to ever admit the scary howling that throws me into pitch blackness each time a piece of happiness is offered, who's to say why a soul bursts into flames of doubts & unbelief. i pray to God beneath the horrors. constantly my love. at nighttime when i am blessed with a little bit of forgetfulness, hope is an olive green garden flowering in the shade of full gratitude & warmth. you are the light to the darkness. the water to neglect. the spring to the thickness. i love you. willingly i follow you in this path decorated with dreaming of long walks of togetherness down a gentle wind. forgive me when i'm away lost to bad voices, i only wish to make a home for you; to turn this dust-in-the-self into daylight. you deserve a mouthful of love. you deserve a life of sweet honey & delight. for the the joy i have growing between my lips. you are the reason. i am resting to the softest tides of a moonlight, & your name is the first on my tongue.

here, i lay open the pages of my notebook to the making & preserving of this love.

i love you. always like this. 

Within & Without

In 2015, I wrote for my father; I stood on that cold stage, clouded with strange air, scrubbing feelings that drifted into the beyond without an answer.

I don't think anyone could ever come to terms with losing a parent, it is one of life's wicked certainties, you know it's going to happen, you fear it happening, you pray it won't happen; not too soon, never too soon, yet no pleading is ever enough to prevent it from happening.

I still have lingering questions, I still have stilled-conversations that I do not wish to have with anybody else, but it is not up to me anymore, that door is closed shut in-front of me.

I do not get to share my growth; the growth he always encouraged and celebrated (no matter how small it was) I do not get to share how far I have come.

Is that fair? 

My words arrange themselves only to come out upside down. Perhaps I am upside down.

I miss my father.

I am in-need of my father.

I wish I could, again, call back all the stolen moments I tried to squeeze-in with him, back when his laughter was alive in-spite of all the pain.

This time, I want them back for me. This time I want to have them, just for me.

God. 

At times like this, I think life -with all its sour fruits- is vanishing inside of me, I think it is drowning parts of me, I walk into a room full of my loved ones and I am quiet. I silence my own voice, sure that no one could truly fill this void.