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I loved you once, but somehow
Your heart is the same, but you're different now and I can't help but miss the man you wanted to be but I also can't pretend you were better off with me because now you are happy, more you than you've been, and yet the man I fell for is still somewhere within underneath the new mask and the hair and the smile still your eyes hold the boy I loved, the one who was wild and you still slump your shoulders, rolling in ease and within their shelter my mind was at ease but you've changed so much, love, you seem so different now, and I cannot believe I loved you somehow. Maybe who you are is allowed to change and maybe time can rearrange our priorities now and then. Maybe you can fully be yourself today while burying you from yesterday and maybe it is time that I really learned how to let you be.
|b.g.|
Sometimes, I just need to write it all out. Here is a poetic braindump, raw and unfinished. My favorite poems of mine are the ones where my thoughts and emotions actually transfer to word and rhyme. And this one, this messy one, has just become one of my favorites.
Meant to be read aloud.
Head in the mountains
Heart in the seas
Feet in the rivers, in bays, in streams
Head in the logic
Heart in the dreams
Hands in the tension sew stitches and seams

Head in the skies
Heart in the breeze
Eyes in the stars chart new galaxies
Head in the wild
Heart in the free
You in my want, but not in my need.
  
Head in the clouds
Heart in the trees
Hair in the wind, like grasses and greens
Head in the known
Heart in myst'ries
Wishes in whispers waiting on maybes.

Head in the wander
Heart in the journey
Faith in the Author of my living story
Head in the mountains
Heart in the sea
Yet, Soul in the prayer of you finding me.

|b.g.|
Are
They say love becomes hate
But love, I've been seeing
I don't hate who you are
I hate who you're being.

|b.g.|
Author's note-- I will always care, and wish him well, without being in love or wanting him back. And that is OK.

Do not let anyone tell you you must hate someone.
Respect yourself enough to see that
Unlike where your heart may lead,
No woman should date a child.
Remember, new love will taste sweet
Until his comfort outlives his care, and
No woman should make him try.
Realize the vast potential he has
Understand the man he soon may be, but
No woman should make him grow
Raising men is for mothers, not lovers, and
Ungrown things need space and time
Now a woman should let him go.
|b.g.|
A petty, rhyming acrostic.
Going through the motions
A vast and blackened ocean
Drinking in this potion
They say is for my best
Breathing in and breathing out
Stagnant air flows through my mouth
Vision fading, thirst like drought
No pause, no peace, no rest.

Awoken from my walking slumber
I reach from my realm of under
For a grasp, for a lover
Of my weary soul
New light breaks through ground and grime
I feel a punctured hand in mine
With whip torn flesh, and spear pierced side
He lifts me from this hole.

Lost sight restored to all fullness
My thirst is quenched, the air now fresh
I see Him there, my soul's found rest
My savior, it is He.
And now I will forever praise
The one who saved my life with grace
How beautiful, the bloodstained face
of Jesus, Lord, and King!
|b.g.|
Written in 2012, Edited in 2017.
Glory to God.
For more of my old poetry, check out http://setthemusicfreeandletitfly.blogspot.com/
A poetic reflection from my blog--
I have been reflecting this weekend on why we create space for Good Friday and Easter Sunday in our calendars and our minds but skip over Saturday. What I have come to realize is that we as people are so locked into our own experiences and our perceptions of what is happening around us that we remember the visible Gospel work of Christ and not the invisible.

Christ lived a visible life. He spoke in streets, from boats, on mountainsides, and in temples. He did miracles in private and public, depending on the need. He healed a man's servant from afar and healed a few men's friend from paralysis in front of a full room.

Christ died a visible death. He was hung out and hung up to die, strapped and nailed down to a cross raised on a rocky hilltop, bleeding and vulnerable for all to see. While much of His pain is unknowable and unseen, His death and anguish were cruel and yet necessarily public.

Christ rose a visible resurrection! The entry was open, the stone moved, the wrappings empty, and the guards stunned. He appeared first to Mary, then to the men on the road, then to the twelve. Thomas, who doubted much like I do, both saw and felt the holes of his Savior's substitutionary sacrifice. Christ visibly ascended Home, shining with the love and light of His and Our Father as He physically reclaimed His heavenly throne.

But what about the time between, "It is Finished! Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit", and the resurrection? What about the lingering stench of apparent defeat and death? Did His spirit stay in the shell of the body until Sunday morning? As we do not believe the Spirit lingers in our own bodies after death, then certainly we can state that our Lord's did not linger in his mortality. If as the Nicene Creed says our Lord descended into Hell itself, why do we not pause to think about what He was going through there? He took the weight of the world's wrongs on His soul when He died, and how does that weight suddenly disappear when mortal consciousness fails, but spiritual life remains? Just what happened to Jesus Friday evening through Sunday morning?

Christ worked invisible work. My point is that though we could not see the work being done, the spirit of our Lord Jesus was as eternally living and active during temporal death as his word, and the other two members of the Godhead. While His body was in the tomb, His soul was living an eternal weight of turmoil to free us. Eternity was our punishment, and so in three short days, eternity for us He bore. He not only took our grievous problem to the cross, He paid for our physical and full spiritual punishment as well.

Oh Christian, remember today the invisible scenes of the Gospel story.
The world once lived in the tension of the in-between, in the three-day-exhale of a dead Savior before the sudden breathe of Eternal Life with the Father for us and our Precious Co-heir forever. Linger a while in Saturday, in the thought of a spiritually redeeming yet physically lifeless corpse in a tomb, in just how much was needed to save your eternal soul from it's eternal and fully earned punishment, and in the tension of the in-between. For as we linger for but a day, our salvation is for an eternity. As we reflect on our brokenness on Him for a moment, our healing in Him is forever. As we dwell on the severity of our need for Grace, Grace becomes all the more beautiful and amazing.
Hallelujah, He broke the tension! Hallelujah, the soul of our Savior returned to it's shell and He being one in body and spirit walked out of His, and our, tomb once and for all. Hallelujah, He is working invisibly even now to bring us back to Him, and when He returns, remember the immortal truth that every eye shall see Him- Our King, Our Savior, Our Good Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Application-- On this day roughly 2,000 years ago, Christ was doing the dirtiest, darkest, most unseen, and most mysterious work, to save us. If you today feel like your Savior is dead and gone from your life, remember that unseen work he did for you on Easter Saturday. Just because you can't see, feel, or know in the moment does not mean that Christ isn't hard at work for you even still. Wait but a little while longer, and see as He reveals the glorious work He has been doing all for you all along. As Romans 8:28 promises, He is working all things together for the good of those who love Him. We may not see the good now, but there will come a day when the unknown sacrifices of Our Lord manifest as known blessings for our souls. We will see Sunday morning.
lifebybetsy.blogspot.com
Slowly but surely,
As time goes on,
I will fade from lives of those you love.
Slowly but surely,
Our ties will untangle
And my close-to-kin are estranged.
Slowly but surely,
I will miss these moments
These miracles that pause life itself.
Slowly but surely,
The new will know me
By only my name and your memory.

Until, our love is outlived.

I will simply become
A whispered thought
Choked back by fight of mind and heart
I will simply become
A "remember when"
As our songs drift by on an evening wind
I will simply become
"She was not a mistake", an "I miss her,
But not what we had in the end."
I will simply become
What you have become
To me
Slowly but surely.
|b.g.|
Author's Note--
Art should be transparent. This is as transparent as I can get right now. Losing love, being in a good relationship that turned toxic, caring deeply for the one you had to leave behind, and watching his family - people you deeply care for and cannot be with- go through amazing life changes and new seasons, knowing only that you will slowly but surely be forgotten from their and his lives, hurts. Soon, my memory will be pushed out of his family by what is beautiful, new, and full of life. Here I sit, on the sidelines of their lives, cheering them on, and yet desperately missing being a part of their happiness. Love is a messy thing. And forgive me as I learn to give myself the space needed to heal over time.
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