Life

It hits you hard sometimes, doesn't it?  With its twists, turns and unforeseen nightmares that come screaming at your door begging for entry apparently out of nowhere, LIFE GETS HEAVY.  Occasionally, these horrors push their way in, menacing and unkind.  Without regard that you're making dinner or mopping the floor, there they stand staring at you in the face.  Things you can't ward off with garlic or Vic's Vapo Rub, like tumors and accidents and heartbreak now present at an uncomfortable proximity.  

Yeah, at times, life hits you square in the jaw and there's nothing you can do but take it.  Asking "why" is beside the point - it's like questioning why babies cry or why grass is green...

Does it end here, though?  What about the blue-haired lady who drives the Mini Cooper who always smiles and has a kind word for you, or the man at the gym who composes a poem for you right in the middle of your stretch, leaving your heart open wide, eyes glistening with tears?  What about  museums, warm laundry, Chinese food?

These, I believe, are some of the reasons I stick around - because as bad as evil is, good is better.  So yeah, my heart aches, people kill each other and the world is going to pot - but "I know the Lord is always with me.  I will not be shaken for he is right beside me."  Psalm 16:8

 And so it is.

Season

Summer fades and autumn creeps in picking up momentum.  As the days go by, my mind adjusts.  Fleshing itself out like a newborn putting on weight, the season takes form and I watch, observant and curious. Things are changing, light is shifting and the sun readies for a snooze. Nodding off, I start to fall asleep as well.  Somnolent and snug, these impending months will lull me into slumber, a different dimension now chilly and contemplative filled with their own treasures.

Where summer was brash and insouciant, fall is modest and moody, winding down it's cha cha and slowing to a trot.  I feel sluggish and sad as I adjust to a pace no longer carefree and blithe.  If I tossed my cares to the wind in the wee months of heat, now I bare them bravely, weeping with nostalgia (am I being melodramatic?  I'm listening to Wagner).

A forlorn fan sits on my desk, a relic of days gone by.  I'll be putting it away soon and my heart bleeds.  But autumn comes and with it cozy, reflective days, root vegetables and the like...

If summer was flowers by my computer, fall is a pumpkin on my desk.  I guess that's not so bad.

Trust

"Trust Me", He says, and my heart goes bad.  "Trust Me", He says, and I wanna scratch at the walls, tearing off plaster until my nails bleed. I want control, but have none.

I writhe in agony, impatience a gnarled tease that tethers and pollutes my soul.  I know He's right, but still I rail calling Him every name in the book and then some.

Pounding the ground, I moan.  The pavement is dented with the weight of my rage. Railing against Him, I beat at his chest fists pummeling into Him like sleet, sharp and merciless. And yet He stands, bearing the brunt of my fury, looking at me with his gentle, steady gaze, and waits for me to relent.  He patiently calls my name, calls me, to a higher ground steadfast and sturdy.

"Daughter" He whispers, and I go, my handkerchief dirty, and soaking with tears.
"Come" He says, leading me away.  His arms around my shoulders envelop me in peace. "Let's see where He goes" I say to myself, and for now, it is enough.

Fear

Fear is a four letter word.
It tears and it grabs and it grips at my throat,
and when I cower, it stands up to gloat.

I've sat on the sidelines too long, yes I have,
while others jump hurdles and win on demand.

It takes naught to keep me still and subdued,
just enough menace, a handful of boo's
and I'm hunching and yielding to folks right and left,
I wonder, what will it take to display weight and heft?

Others have noticed how timid I am,
but none more than me,
O, that fear would disband!

What must I do to dislodge and unglue
this hesitant fright that saps my delight,
and leaves me to feel like a flea caught in flight
detained and contained by a lid on so tight?

There must be an end,
a daring voila` to this story that's been
since the time of papa`...
Some edge I can use to attack and destroy
timidity's subtle and poisonous ploy.

But alas, I fear - there's that word again
all I can do is dance and pretend
I'm not quite so scared as I seem to be,
and hope that no one is looking directly at me.

But don't you think it would be sad
if all I did was play dead for dad?
Ultimately, it's not happening still,
so all the past sorrow adds up to nil.

All the sadness and pain that flooded like rain,
and made me hurt, so damned insane,
now lies still like a carving of marble and stone
I salute time to time with barely a groan.

And so the solution lies in my hands,
and not in the memory of some mean man.

I've come full circle now, not quite so sad -
fear's on its way out, and baby, I'm glad.