Wings

processing poem, helped by James Wright

I am shattered

and yet more whole than I have ever noticed.

My heart is heavy

and yet light.

I am the eagle rejoicing in the oak trees of heaven

and I want to share this space

because it is whole and raw and beautiful.

because I have become.

desire runs deep,

to jump trains and sip chai

with desert sisters,

I want the mountains

and the pines.

I want our eyes to meet,

for you to hold my hand.

I want to see you on the road and jump

into your strongest arms-

and know that spring is coming.

though I was willing,

my transformation into wings

did not happen

across the water,

but you have made me see

that I am soaring, already.

This is what I wanted.

(Read James Wright's "Today I was happy, so I made this poem")

Knowing

Sunday night I feel the fire returning to my bones.

It is catalyzed by painting and tea and friends who hold

beauty for sharing and for joy.

Somewhere between coffee and pizza and her

wonderful advice and the encouragement

of her very being.

Somewhere next to purple nail polish and red pants

and winter sunlight

and in between the Ted talks

about our greatest insecurities—

in the reminder that I have something to offer

the world,

that the essence of me is useful.

Even if not how I thought I would be.

Even if it’s hard (it is) right now,

I still know who and whose I am.

Some Favorites of 2015

Strengths Finder by Tom Rath

PA State Eagle Live Camera

            -and the Alaska Bears

The Jesus Storybook Bible

Extending the Table

Ballet class

Getting to know Jenna S. better!

ITeams Training- Amazing.

Idaho

Arizona

Germany

Olafur Arnalds’ music.

Starbucks

            -meeting with Steph and Ash, my sisters who let me lean on them

            -our baristo friends

            -dancing in the parking lot

Lucy/Penny/Emily/Jared visit in the summer

hiking with Jesus at the CNC and Red Bird Hollow

Jesus Feminist by Sarah Bessey

Charis, Preston Sprinkle

Prayer, Richard Foster

Amanda Cook’s music

United Pursuit band- Never Going Back/Let it Happen

Kelly Delp’s blog

Edgar Meyer’s violin concerto

into your eyes- spiritual.

this land of mine,

we were one letter away from freedom

but we landed at fear.

we couldn’t breathe there,

though my lungs strained against their sky

everyone pretended they were fine.

----

The sky is simple love.

Take me away into the sunrise and into your eyes.

Give me the strength to be weak.

He says he wants mountains. The kind that separates the sky from the clouds,

that separate lung from body.

Me, I want pine trees so deep you cannot see the sky.

I’ve been lovesick for so long.

Bring me the colors of fall,

inject the bright hues into my blood

and tattoo this wonder to my bones.

set me free to breathe slow and feel every whiff of breeze.

I want more warmth.

I want more ice cubes in the summer time.

I want more softness in my aching spine,

in my aching mind,

in your reach,

in my sleep.

you settle over my dreams like fog in early morning.

you slip in and out of me softly,

My dreams are mountains

and the stars above me sound like my cerulean soul

breaking into smithereens.

you have my heart, inside out

and backwards

tonight is just a taste.

take me away,

into the sunrise and

into your eyes.

a poem for the end, but moreso the beginning.

You have held my head up,

You have held my hand.

I will learn to stand steadier

and I will be a breather of books

and I will dance in the streets.

I will claim my space,

I will laugh without fear of tomorrow’s trials.

I will practice fearlessness.

readiness does not shimmer.

to be ready is

a decision. I have made it.

and all of this is for you

all of these fingers,
all of this heart.

Dear America.

Stop pointing your fingers and instead get on your knees and PRAY. Put down your "I told you so's" and your opinions and just freaking pray about it already.

Me.

KNOWING

I’ve started googling pine tree subgenera again.

But this time, there is the knowing.

That when I lean straight backed against the wall

and inhale, I know.

All the way to each root in my soul,

from the moment the sun kisses tree tops

to the moment it slips beyond the horizon

and into the night.

My dreams are full of knowing,

and when I walk, I feel it in my blood,

my bones as I stand to wash the supper dishes.

It lends itself in quietness;

it lends itself in laughter.

This time, there is knowing.

So when I lift my face up to the sky

and exhale, I know.