You say "Your body is a temple."
I agree; My body is a temple.
But I think you may be mistaken.
that God may not have given us a temple to be kept ordered and clean;
but Our God, Our Creator, Our Father
Saw fit to, instead, give us a blank canvas.

You say "Your body is a temple."
I agree; My body is a temple.
And when I look at the darkness of the night and the brightness of the stars and the colors of the ocean waves;
When I gaze at the sun and the great forests and the smooth valleys and the rolling fog;
When I take in the majesty of drifting continents and the lull of summer heat and the taste of bitter herbs; I breathe in deep.

You say "Your body is a temple."
I agree; My body is a temple.
And when I think of the Glory of my God my atoms tingle, my adrenaline floats into my blood stream,  my eyes dilate, my capillaries expand and decrease synchronously with the flushing of the chambers of my heart, my nerve impulses rustle along my axons.

You say "Your body is a temple."
I agree; my body is a temple.
A place to worship fervently, with every word and action; with every thought and movement; with everything that I have been given, my body cannot help but to cry out to the greatness of He who made me.

You say "Your body is a temple."
I agree; my body is a temple.
and when I look at my clean skin, smooth like paper;
I cannot help but want to proclaim the Greatness of my God with the etching of the hues of the mountains and the shades of the sea.
I want nothing more but to reflect His Glorious creation back to Him.

Anger is like a lover,
it fits you like a glove.
You can wrap yourself in it,
Take refuge in it,
Run to it in your moment of need.
It will accept you at your worst and at your best,
It will stay up with you on long nights when you’re scared,
It will wait for you,
It will spend hours hoping you look it’s way,
And when you do, when you run to Anger,
And embrace it,
It will embrace you back,
But it won’t let you go until it’s taken everything it wants from you,
And when Anger decides that it’s had enough of your poor attitude,
And unwillingness to commit,
Anger will leave you,
Burned and
alone.

I don’t have a role in this play anymore,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I still have a role; it’s just open now,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I am not the princess in this tale,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I can be the warrior,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I am not the sidekick,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I am the hero,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I have no one looking out for me,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I can do as I please,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I don’t know this place,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

This place is new,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I need hobbies,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I have time,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

My future is uncertain,
Despair,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife

My future is uncertain,
Courage,
I am no longer destined to be the quaint housewife.

I don’t want the best for my children.
I want them to work hard and get little back.
I want them to blister in the heat and freeze in the cold.
I want them to sweat.
I want them to give up something they want for something they need.
I want them to work until not only do they not want to work, they physically can’t.
I want them to come home and collapse in their beds.
I want them to stay up late, putting in their very best effort, and come home without a ribbon.
I want them to give their all, and come up short.
I want them to jump for their dreams and crash, hard, into the concrete.
Why?
I want this not because I am cruel,
but because I want them to drink deeply of life and appreciate the sweetness.
When they work hard and get something back, it will be sweet.
When they get to work where they don’t freeze and blister, it will be sweet.
When they get to relax, it will be sweet.
When they get both something they want and something they need, it will be sweet.
When they come home, exhausted and weary, but having accomplished the day’s work, it will be sweet.
When they throw their heads on their pillows, it will be sweet.
When they stay up late, putting in their very best effort, and come home with a ribbon, it will be sweet.
When they give their all, and get something back, it will be sweet.
Because one day, they will jump and float, suspended momentarily, their fingers resting on the edge of their dreams, they will grab hold and bring their dreams close,
They will drink deeply of life, and appreciate the sweetness.

I used to look at you.
I used to look at you and think.
I used to long for imagined nights
consisting of warm fire places, hearty
dinners and familiarity. I used to picture
a farm. A farm with goats and rabbits,
and vegetables in a garden, With a
wind turbine in the front made
of car parts, Nevermind that
I don’t know what a turbine is.
With a grey water system and a
compost pile, And the crown jewel
of all of this; You in my arms, smiling at
me, and laughing. Working beside me for
this life. Working together to build this dream
And now I think of you, and I imagine for you.
I imagine a log cabin on a lake surrounded by trees
A lot of different trees and you can name them all.
The trees almost kissing the water at some spots
And the cabin is tidy and well put together.
There are compost bins, and a garden.
It’s gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous
that you have always appreciated in
nature, The same kind that you had to
show me. The lake is smooth and clean,
and there is a tiny airplane docked
on it, because there are no roads
to this place. I would think that
you’re isolated, but you think
you’re surrounded. It’s all in what
you value, I guess.  If you go up to the
cabin and you knock on the wood door,
a girl will open the door. She used to be me
but now she’s someone else. She would invite
you in and you would accept. She makes you happy
and to be perfectly honest, that’s what I want for you.

Where do I begin?
Where do I even start?
How do I convey this to you?
This feeling,
This energy,
This essence of life
That is throbbing through me,
Rolling,
Flowing,
Alive.