It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gap, heal their rifts - those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to give shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm - through and through.

But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore.
How tight is its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?

These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.

For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal - and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel - as I carve their seats in shapes of departure. These skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.

My past was but a dream - ready to slide and crumble like a leaf.
My weariness is universal. My knowledge, heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.

Let me feed those roots anew.

at two and a half years old,
newly adopted, her first home
my cat wouldn't eat
unless I sat with her.
she would lay next to me,
let me hold her in my arms
but didn't trust her world to eat alone
to be in such a vulnerable state
back turned, unguarded.
after all
her history demonstrated, time and time again
that her food would be stolen
she'd have to fight for it
that someone could hurt her
because they did, they had.
two years later
she'll lay next to me
let me hold her in my arms
and eat
even when I'm not there
but some days
she still asks

Within us lies a power so divine, Positive energy, a healing sign.
It mends and soothes, with a gentle touch,
Healing body and mind, with its clutch.
So let us choose the energy we feed,
For it's the essence of our every deed.
Embrace the positive, let the negative part.

If I let you read my poems,
      I let you guide into my soul,
Flourished by my deepest thoughts,
      Ways in which I do not tell the world,
Yet, my words have such meaning,
       Such song in the heart.

And if I let you read my poems,
        I let you read a new me,
A chapter that began too long ago,
       As I drift into a lingering sadness,
Writing my way into therapy.  

When I let you read my poems,
        Don't shout to help me,
These poems are quite, subtle to be,
         Silent, yet so loud underneath,
What is it that lies beneath?

And when I let you read my poems,
I have given you my wrenching soul,
Etching to be free,
Connections lie between the lines,
Even when you dont understand, listen to me.

So when I let you read my poems,
I want you to wonder to the world of me,
Watch my soul freeing with relief,
To know that someone knows the hideous parts of me,
That the world will never see.

And then they shake and cross your boundaries
Seem so fragile you don’t dare to breath it in
But you don’t wanna break their limbs
Neither keep them upon your skin

It takes up space in all the wrong ways
Evaporates
The price that I pay
It’s alright that I change
It’s alright that you stay

You are everything we ever need
You are the living water to seed
Fill us with your Holy Spirit
Give us these spiritual gifts
As, with our voices, your praises we lift
You are greater and stronger
Your sin controls you no longer
In the light of your amazing grace
Come Lord Jesus, invade my space
Drive out the darkness and fear
I come crawling; will you meet me here?
Receive the greatness and the power
Of this glorious and holy hour
Shout to God be honor and glory
The world needs to hear your story
Free us and heal us from our sin and shame
All is possible when we call on your Holy Name

Her soul sings so beautifully,
echoes of lives blown apart,
and ghosts of history
howl in the holes of her heart
to tell her not to hurt...
you may as well tell her to fly
cant express how much
but it hurts all of the time

but pain is a teacher
it leaves when its lesson is taught
and battles tomorrow
won with the strength that pain bought
Time has no desire to fix or heal you inside
but with time you learn
to confront where you once tried to hide

Her soul sings so beatifully
It sounds like a place that i know
it rhymes with the memories of days
where i played long ago
tell her not to hurt
or allow her to learn how to fly
in time pain and memories
will trigger a bittersweet smile

Healing starts with
gentle grace.
By finding peace in your
own pace.
Love yourself,
let your fears unwind.
And trust will bloom in time,
refined.