What a humbling experience flying is. Up in the atmosphere, when the powerful ocean is just another empty coloring page and the coast twists like a fragile vein carrying wisps of wind between the ocean and the dust. I am simply human, another wonder among these wonders, and loved, somehow in all my brokenness. We could be going anywhere. From here, it is all the Earth. From the ground, a big metal box carries people. Simply people. And everything is backwards. The clouds barely whisper movements and the ocean remains the same calm blue it has been since its day of birth. And the sky-- even the storms are below. As if outside of this place is perfection, though I know that's not true. But what a glorious reminder of my frailty!
2. poem, raw and unedited, just the way I like them.
Girlchild, you were made for more than blue skies
and cherry red dresses.
Don't forget
that your heart is beautiful,
and that rain was made for delight--
real water rain, not metaphors for sad days
or tears in the fabric of life.
Don't forget that you
are purpose
and purpose is more than cricket songs
and photosynthesis,
and the way you metamorphosis isn't shared
by caterpillars at all.
And don't forget that you are dust
between the ocean and the sky,
but also that the rain can't wash you away
and the thunder will never tremble your feet.
And your dusty heart is loved
by the King of everything precious and good.
Don't forget, girlchild, this love and
your heart, more than blue skies and red dresses.
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