Why do we get happy, if in the end we are going to cry?
Why do we love someone, if that person won't even try?
They say we're too young to say our goodbyes,
but what's the point on living if we're just going to die?  
Why do we think so much about what we want to say?
when the person we say it too will hate us the very next day?
They think we're unexpected, even though we're so cliché?
because to them it matters how pretty we are, and how much we weigh...
why do we try so hard to be something we're not?
because the person you're trying for doesn't care a whole lot.
So maybe we should stop living, give the world a change.
put in a little ugly and watch the pain drift away.
So maybe we shouldn't think so much about what we want to say
and maybe stop rushing, have a little delay
we should focus more on breathing instead of living,
we should stop receiving and start a little giving.
stop trying so hard to be something we don't want to be
because all the reasons don't actually impress society.

~(by Joanna, "The Backroads Girl")~

Somewhere between the millions of years
it takes for light to reach earth
and our first glimpse of the stars
there is a promise.

Somewhere between the humility
of a young girl's heart
and her baby's first cry
there is life.

Somewhere in the passing
of precious oil and gold
into a carpenter's rough hands
there is obedience.

Somewhere between the bustle
of a small dusty town
and the stink of its stables
there is a miracle.

Because somewhere
between the heavens
and our small, open hearts
love came
no, love still
comes down.

~

Postscript:
This is not my poem; it‘s arrival in my Facebook inbox a few days ago was a welcome event and I have read and reread it countless times since.  Some poems are just too precious to keep to ourselves… this is one of those.  I am publishing it here with the author’s permission for all of you to enjoy.   (I prefer to not post nameless poems, so in that it was posted without a name, I took the liberty to give it one.) 

Joanna, thank you for letting me share this with my Hello Poetry friends.  I have no doubt that I speak for others here who would welcome more of your writings here on Hello Poetry.  Consider this your invitation.

From Joanna’s Facebook bio- “I am on a journey- I travel with a suitcase full of of outrageous blessings. I'm an artist, a writer, an explorer...”
https://www.facebook.com/BackroadsGirl/info

Passionate lover, fluid strokes.
Deep inside, ****** moans.
***** thoughts, innocent tone.
Rough motion, head explodes.
Wet finish, all over her throat.
Beautiful kisses, on her toes.
Lustful whisper, do so float.
Heartful words, I do so devote~

.

She's like a field of wildflowers, beautiful, untamed
When the winter comes, I still will love her just the same
Beneath the veil of snow, I know she still remains
Waiting patiently, to be washed clean by spring rains

She's something like the sun, rays of warmth and love are beeming
I'm more like the moon, its hard to shine when I'm not feeding
Off of the light extending out, when it hits I have no doubt
I could live this life alone, but will not live this life without,
My wildflower