Her numbness

Lately I've been effected by the stories I have heard from other people. Not simply stories, but their stories, their pain. The undeniable humanness of their hurt caused by other people, that usually causes me to cry out to God in confusion and frustration. Why does this have to happen? Why does he allow us to hurt so much sometimes? The stories can be even more difficult if they touch a personal chord, suddenly I feel the need to experience with the person, to pull out the their emotions. In all honestly I want to allow myself to feel what they are feeling in hopes to take away some of their pain, hurt, or numbness. I can be left overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness, and I am brought to question God's reasoning and allowance for such anguish. Lately, some poems or free writes that I write do not reflect my thoughts but the thoughts that come to me while entering into others pain. It's a difficult place to be, in the mind of someone else. I don't think I will ever fully grasp their emotions and the words they would choose to use. Perhaps sometime in the future this will become of some help.

Her Numbness

Sometimes I need to stop
and stare
Into the nothingness that exists -
Just below my bedroom ceiling
To let the numbness settle
In hopes that I can feel again -
If I am still enough

I am tired of angry and discontent
They do not cover this loneliness
They no longer make me feel
I wish tears could wash away
These feelings
Clean these thoughts
What I would do for him to
hold me close
So I could yell and pound against
his chest
Would any of my pain go beyond
his hollow shell
Does he still exist?

All that I feel is numb
It circulates through my veins
Incomprehensible numbness

I want out of the mental anguish
This cage
This personal cell
God, why don't he just hold
me close?
Be my father
I need him to be
How can I understand who you are
If I can't understand who he is?

Untitled

I walked the city of oxford
In beat with Ani DiFranco
Letting the words wash over me like the breeze that seemed to never end
The cotton like pollen of the trees tickled my nose
Lost in my thoughts of how strange it was
My past colliding with my present
Contemplating the would haves
The could haves
The life that wasn’t mine
And the life that was
For some reason Ani understood my plight
So I walked to the beat of her guitar
People walked past me unaware of my thoughts
I passed painters capturing the beauty of willows dipping into the Thames
I smiled at childhood memories as the ducks talked to each other
Seeing my sister and I in a reflection throwing stale bread into the water
Bridges felt smaller than they used to be
Throwing pooh sticks and to the other side
One stride to cross the width
Leaning against the cold metal
My eye on the pooh stick as it floated freely down the river
Ani still played speaking of beauty and last night’s mistakes
I walked on
Lost in the time in between
The space that was neither yesterday nor today and certainly not tomorrow
Each step
Each beat
Each sight and smell
Oxford faded from past to present
As I walked between the memories and the beat of Ani Difranco

In my Lane

I feel that this post needs to have a disclaimer. It was an assignment of sorts. I was told to write a reflection on a book called "Love my Rifle More Than You" so I did and this is what came of it. Again, it's not my normal writing and it has some harsh language in it, but I felt it was important to share.

In My Lane

Stay in your lane, I am told!
Neither left nor right
But I will choose what lane I drive
I will drive in your lane
With guns and gas masks
Fatigues and humvees
I will wear what you wear
I will drive what you drive
Armed with intelligence confidence and the same gun you carry
I will navigate my way up your mountain without you
I will earn the respect I demand from you

“Sir, yes Sir”

No! “Ma’am, yes Ma’am”

I have lived my life inside my lane
Unassertive, indecisive, expecting you to lead
Unsure because you told me to be
But your lane does not pull to the side or yield for faster traffic

Damn it! I’m coming over
I won’t be the slut that lets you pass
I will be the bitch that hits the gas
The bitch that won’t sleep with you
The bitch that won’t stand at ease
The bitch that won’t show you her tits
This bitch won’t back down
I will change the oil of my truck
Count my equipment
Maintain positive control of my sensitive items
1) Self confidence
2) Weapon
3) Personal identity
4) NVG’s
5) Sanity and perseverance
All items present and accounted for

This woman, the one you consider a bitch
Is more confident than you are
More aware than you are
Is more sane than you are
And Drives better than you do!
Should I question your masculinity?
Am I more man than you could be?

I will be your subordinate
I will be your comrade
I will be your superior
I will be a bitch, but not yours
And there is no way in hell I will show you my tits

I won’t ask you to move over when I come in your lane
Because I’m tired of yielding
Because I’m tired of pulling over and being pushed over
So this bitch is moving over
Into my new lane
This lane I’ll stay in

When She didn't come home

When she didn't come home

I sat at the window waiting for the sound of her car
I woke to every click of the door
Every chiming of keys
When she didn’t come home

At first I held hope
Perhaps tomorrow
Perhaps next week
Maybe next month
When she didn’t come home

No one gave me an answer
She’ll be by soon
She needs some time
She’s getting clean
When she didn’t come home

At first I cried
Large droplets turning into free flowing streams
Streaking my face
Eyes burning
Blurring
Begging for understanding
My throat strained
Words distorted into choking sobs
When she didn’t come home

Questions ran through my mind
Ones I wouldn’t dare ask aloud
If I’d just tried harder
Been stronger
Would she still be here?
If I’d listened more closely
Kept my room cleaner
Would she still be here?
Was it my fault?
When she didn’t come home

I stopped crying
Stopped caring
Eyes dry
Heart callused
When she didn’t come

I closed my curtains
Slept through the night
Deafened myself to the sound of car engines slowing down the street
When she didn’t come home

I don’t cry anymore
I don’t care anymore
I don’t try anymore
I don’t love anymore
But I still ask those questions
Let them run through my
Could I have been better?
Stronger?
Was it my fault?
That she didn’t come home

beauty in brokeness

How beautiful it is to see your grace and mercy
in our brokenness!
In our vulnerability you provide clarity
A paradox of beauty in our lowest,
most broken moments.
How perfect is your love
Displayed in the single breath of finding joy in our trials
in the moment when we see just a glimpse
Of the amazing plans you have for us

reflections during Youth Councils

Even when it isn't cool
let me fall on my knees and worship your name
Even when it isn't cool
let me lift my hands
let me dance at your throne
Lord, even when it isn't cool.
Guard me from my pride
let me fall to my face in reckless abandonment
to give you my praise
to rest in your peace


How do I show them that you are in their darkness? God you are there in their pain, in their hurt you hold them close. "My child I am overwhelmed with grief when I see your tears, - your anger in frustration. My child I am here, I am here."
How do I show the endlessness of your love? I am only you child, just as they are. But God, I have felt your comfort, your loving embrace. Please show them what you have revealed to me in my darkness.

Your self control leaves me in awe. I realise now, how you feel when I sit and ignore your presence. I do not know what is going through their head. I do not know what is on their hearts. Lord please let it be on you. Let them find you in the voices that lift up your praise.


Who are you God?
Who are you to me?
A strong tower
A faithful father
not the broken reflection that this world provided me!
How many times have I asked for peace
for joy, for direction
for grace?
Unlike this world, you have been faithful to answer my call
And even in my pain
you stand with me
While my faith my falter
my desperation rarely fades
so I cling to the promises that other have spoken
you will carry me when I am broken
when this world trips me up
You will be my light
my rock
my path
my strength
in you alone I trust
in you alone I trust

A missed goodbye

I don't have much to say that would be profound this evening. Perhaps