There never seems
To be enough
Seconds in a minute
Or
Minutes in an hour
Or
Hours in a day
When it comes to this journey called "life."
There always seems to be
Somewhere to go
Or
Someone to see.
If it's not here, then it's there.
If it's not her, then it's them.
I frantically rush from one hour
To the next
CrammingCrushing
Everylittlething
Until there is nothing left but
Me and a hundred of thoughts,
A myriad of worries,
And a pyramid of plans.

But it's then that I take a breathe.
I take a breath
& remember You-
The Great Beginning
And the End.
For even but a moment
It is just the Father and I-
A father and his daughter.
I rest at the feet of Jesus
Like Mary once did.
There is no agenda
No rush
No need to be anywhere but here.
I am humbled by His presence for
He radiates
Love,
Holiness,
Self-lessness,
Patience-
All that I am not.

I tell Him of my day
And the fears that have taken root:
The fear of failing,
The fear of disappointment,
The fear of not being good enough.
"It's too much!"
I cry out.
"I can't do it!
There's too many things and not enough me."
But my Father,
He tells me to list.
He tells me of how He has a plan-
A plan of joy
Not worry;
A plan of peace,
Not distress;
A plan of victory,
Not defeat.
"Child, yes, you are small,
But I am big-
Bigger than your plans,
Bigger than your hopes,
Bigger than your fears.
So take comfort in Me
When life is not at rest.
Find solace during the story
While knowing that I calm the seas."

(& no, it was not like Martin Luther King, Jr.).
I had a dream that you had died
And I was still here.
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
So instead you said hello to a place I could never go.
You would think that I would have felt something-
Known that you had just let go.
Perhaps a tugging in my chest would have signaled
The pulling of strings-
The undoing of us.

But no,
I felt nothing
(just like you do now).

I didn't even have time to process or mourn properly
(if there is even such a thing)
Because the next frame was your funeral.
I sat in a pew in the back
And I couldn't remember if I was wearing the black dress you'd liked.
People were telling stories
Of who you were and what you did,
But I couldn't handle it.
I didn't want to hear about was and when and were.
I wanted to hear you.

I am not yours
Nor can I ever be.
I am bound to this world
This earth
This terrain
While you-  
You are walking across the universe
On steps that I will never graze upon.

I envy the faces you pass-
People who don't even know your name
Yet are privileged to be in your presence
While I am here, clinging to the mere indentation of you on my bed.

I don't understand the logic behind this.
I know you.
I have seen you wake up in the early morning,
A sketch of hazy eyes and soft edges.
I have seen you thrash in the middle of the night,
Delirious and fevered from the demons in your head.
I've held your calloused hands
And mapped out your scars
To the constellations of the dark dark sky.
I knew all of that
And yet
I still could not be yours.

The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that I fall in love daily
Held under so many captivating spells
moulded and crafted by all walks of life
I find myself longing for all of you
the broken, the fallen, the bruised
the saints, the sinners
the righteous, the dispossessed
the holy, the unholy
all meet here
to speak of life
as they feel it
as only we know it.
Onwards, upwards
Downward spirals
kindness, cruelty
crashing through boundaries
bounding across oceans
carried on wistful sighs and broken dreams
The trouble with Hello Poetry
Is that it breaks my heart
Then brings me back to love again
All within an hour.