In April, her mornings began to look like this: And this:
It was the 1st anniversary of the death of her friend’s father, and she couldn’t put into words what she wanted to say. The text she started now felt flat and dry and wholly inadequate. She was tempted to take up her bible and insert a profound and prolific verse she had scraped up, lastContinue reading “Only a Brownie-Cutter & Not a King”
These are the days that inspire her to write. She spent her morning in the shadow of the sun; spent her afternoon feeling its gaze and spent her evening watching it go down. Everything bathed in the light now suddenly curling back into its folds of gray dusk. It would be too easy to spendContinue reading “Barefeet & Saturdays”
She hasn’t written for over three months, but here she is. It’s 10:59pm and she should be in bed. She always gets to bed by 9:30am. Gets up at 5:50am, sometimes 5:20am. It’s good for her. She likes it, most days at least.
it’s been a month of wild happenings and gray skies and too many hours of staring at the same white screen. it’s been a month of morning workouts and nighttime rituals of tea and books and curling up in a blanket next to a not-fire (because there is no fireplace, hence the not-fire). it’s beenContinue reading “Freeways & Late Nights”
oh hello, words on a page. hello, white screen and black keys and blank, lifeless thoughts. I feel as though someone stuck a tube into my brain and sucked out all of the words and deep thoughts and contemplative reasonings that give way to profound words and poetic phrases. Lately, it’s been nothing. I haveContinue reading “dear diary – not forsaken”
when I think of old poets, I think of shriveled men with wispy gray hair trailing in long tentacles down their faces; their beards long and disheveled. A glass of cold rum sits on their desk; their teeth stained with it, their breath smelling of it. They wear old spectacles and bite on the endsContinue reading “dear diary – old poets”
I have been writing elsewhere for several months, thus, the lapse in a continual flow of words. That’s ok. I have learned a lot, but I’m coming back home in a way. I like the simple, unhurried, uncluttered look of this blog, so I have decided to reroute, re-do and return to my roots (likeContinue reading “dear diary – tried and true”
Yesterday at church, I was Mary. I stood and read those all familiar verses about Mary and for the first time, I realized the enormity of Mary’s need for her own Son. Like, crazy, right? That “this Child that [she] delivered would soon deliver [her]”. Later, I watched the Nativity movie, and Mary held herContinue reading “dear diary – hope. always. forever.”
Rain, by Hans Zimmer plays as I think. in the music, I hear small droplets, as a quiet wind moves in the background; light, and curiously kind. Can wind be kind? Yes, I think so. Because if it can be fierce and harsh, it can be kind too.