Wednesday, December 8, 2010

The Past and Hope

Dear Father,

It is a privilege to be called Your child, and to no longer be a slave to sin. You are my heavenly father.
And I believe Lord, that no matter how destructive everything around me is, You remain constant. I believe that You can bring beauty from pain, shine light through darkness, and hold firm in your majesty even in the midst of everything else. I cling to You, as your child, as your servant. My hope is in You.



That's been on my heart today. Now, I'd like to post some of my past writings.

From a poem entitled "The Fine Things," written on October 3, 2010

I've been dying and living, once again
to tell you, to say...[Oh, where to begin?]
These words are bottled, they have been
hiding inside, hiding within.
Hiding beneath my very skin.

And I confess to you today
[I have so many things I need to say]
[I'm trying not to sound cliche]
[I think about you throughout the day]
[you're my best friend and I want you to stay]
[I love you in every single way]

And I hope that was fair
[if not, I don't care]
It's over; it's there.
And you're completely unaware.

And I swear, I swear
that it's too much to bear.

[Life is unfair.]

From a poem "Coexistence" written July 16, 2010:

Beating against the rocks and hearts
is not where any of this should start.
It starts with a day and a life to live.
It starts with a willingness to forgive.
It starts with a way out, and resistance.
It starts with compassion from a distance.

And coexistence.

From Moments To Remember posted June 15, 2010:

I'm searching for that sound again, for the match of what it was before - before the music got engraved into my head. I'm searching for the time when it was the first time. I'm searching for a way back to the beginning, before things could be compared. When there was that snow and that silly laughter. Who could have thought that those are the times that I would dearly miss? Who could have guessed that those are the moments that I would be desperate for?
From this is my life. posted April 11, 2010:

Will it be lost forever in the depths of my memory? It's hard to say. It would be one useful defense mechanism, that's for sure. Still, will it be neccessary after tonight?

Answer: i hope i'm stronger than that.

I'm pretty sure that I sense a twinge of fear in the pit of my stomach. In the shake of my bones. I'm nervous, I'm insecure. Or maybe it's just cold in here. Yes, that's it. That's what I'll let myself believe, anyway.

Now I smell something false...I think it's a lie. With a hint of loss.
Or hope in a diguise.

From Infinitive, posted November 29, 2010:

Who are you to decipher it? Who are you to say that something is absolute, that it should be this way or that? To dismiss an idea, or recover the lost. To walk by an aching heart, to push the standing line, to reject the hands that stretch towards your face? Who are you to say I am wrong and you are right, or that someone's ideas are not remotely proportional to your own?

Ah, the light goes on.
Now you're thinking.

From "R" is my favorite. posted October 5, 2010:

I hope I remember that rain. That straight rain.
The rain that came for two solid days,
the mist that clouded the sky the next morning.
How the day itself seemed exhausted,
seemed so overcome with grief that
its only outlet was that miserable, straight rain.


Just so you can get a taste of the kind of things I write.

1 comment:

  1. I love your writing Emily, and I always have. I am glad it has a home now =)

    (And I think you have inspired me to start digging up some of my old stuff for a "flashback friday" sort of thing...)