Heartbeat

Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
In
and out.
In
and out.
In love and out of it.
Out of love and into it.
This insanity goes on.
Over and over.
This roller coaster.
Heartbeat of love.
Moments of passion.
Times of loneliness.
Moments of pacing.
Times of happiness.
Joy and pain.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Heartache. Longing.
Does it ever end?
There are times when I've wanted to run away.
Hating this thrill ride.
Because of the troughs.
Because of my doubts.
Because of the storm inside.
And other times I couldn't stand it.
Drowning in this joy.
Because of the crests.
Because of my faith.
Because of the storm inside.
"You must wait."
"But-"
"Wait."
Rise. Crest.
Fall. Trough.
In and out.
In and out.
Faster.
Impatience.
I do not wait on others well.
I cannot wait forever.
I will not wait forever.
How long must I wait for this to end?
Rise. Crest. Fall. Trough.
I know what I want.
But I must wait.
In and out. In and out.
My breathing grows heavy.
The sand in the hourglass of my patience drops.
I will not wait forever.
I almost wish my heart broken just to be rid of the thrill.
Just to be rid of the roller coaster.
All or nothing.
I must either complete my love or sever it from me.
I can love from a distance.
I can love a dream.
But not someone only halfway.
As it is now.
Rise.
Crest.
Fall.
Trough.
Still my heart beats.
Still I wait.
I have some patience left.

I Dream Again

     A lone tree. It is old and yet it is young. I saw the hill on which it stands before it grew there. I felt the grass at its base. The tree was planted by two young lovers. A promise made. The years flew by, the tree grew. Now it stands tall, strong, and thick.
     A lone man. He's standing there beneath the branches of the tree. Leaning against its trunk. One hand is in his pocket, the other holding his large phone with the glowing screen, his thumb touching and sliding back and forth across it. His mind is on something else, not really paying attention to what's in his hand.
     But the image is wrong in my mind. The man I see is young and the tree is old. Yet the same man planted that tree. What can it mean?
     The tree is love.
     Two lovers kneeling down in prayer on top of the hill, hand in hand, discovered a tiny mustard seed.
     They planted it, watered it, and came back every day to tend it.
     And it grew. A mighty tree, from a tiny beginning.
     And the man?
     I see him young because that is how he is now. He is in Time. The tree is out of Time. The tree is in Eternity yet I see him leaning against it? How can this be?
     Because part of him is in Eternity as well.
     As am I.
     The tree is ours. In the future and now.
     I see it because it may be.
     It might become.
     I dreamed again.
     It is a wonderful dream, and its meaning came while I still saw it unfold. Unlike my first dream of this kind.
     The first I do not share. Not yet. It is still unclear to me. But this, this I will tell. This story is beautiful with no uncertainties except the possibility that it might not be or perhaps it will. But that choice is only partially mine.
     I still await on the meaning of the first dream.
     But my constant pleading with God to explain the first to me is soothed for the time being with this new dream. And the hope...
     Maybe I will dream again.

Cover Me

     In a world of "show me," where patches of bare skin, tight clothes and droopy drawers are the norm, a peculiar sight could be seen at the mall last weekend. A young couple walking hand in hand, clothed well, modest, and beautiful. Him - shirt tucked into high waist, belted jeans. Her - simple pants and doubly-layered shirt covered by a bright blue wrap. But as they went along the wrap would occasionally slip down and he would pause to gently pull it back up to hide her bare shoulders from the sun and the people around them.
     This, dear reader, is how I define modesty. Where most would "take it off," the concern by both of them - her to wear the wrap in the first place and he to aid her, they kept it. Yes, two lovers would desire the other, but the meaning behind the gesture of covering the shoulders or wearing the veil is incredibly important and significant.
     Now, I'm not saying I'm an advocate for wearing something on the head all the time nor is the choice of spaghetti-strap sleeveless shirt considered modest for everybody. What I'm saying is, whatever level of modesty you choose, you should make sure you aren't' doing it to attract negative or lustful attention and you respect other people's choices in clothing.
     Yes, there are times when I've wanted to tell some teenage boys to pull up their pants and some young women to wear a higher neckline and longer shorts and skirts. But even in history, with differing styles and levels of modesty, there have always been ways to "stand out" and attract the attention of the world. Unfortunately, as the world has gone on turning, more and more skin is seen it seems.
     I call upon both the young women and men of this day and age: discover your own style. Loosen the corsetpants (yes I just made that word up). Hide the underwear. You want to be noticed? Be the butterfly. Wear the extra flowing layer that hides the figure. Wear the vest that adds some class.
     Be the trend-setter. Find the right outfit for you that people will compliment you for what you're wearing, not what's underneath. Be eccentric. Wear something crazy so that people notice it instead of the body and skin you have.
     Look for the person that would offer you something more to wear if you express discomfort or question yourself on your modesty. And never turn them down if they give you the look that asks, "cover me."

Hold Me Forever

a prayer


Lord I love You
and You've given me love on this Earth.
The joy I feel when he holds me close
is a joy I never want to be without.
The thrill, the jumping heartbeat
every time he touches me
is something I hope will never fade.
Lord I love You
and You've given me a blessing in a wonderful man.
I crave his voice, his hold.
I long for him to take me home
and love me forever.
But then troubles come
and doubts rise in my mind.
I forget what he's like
when pain comes
and I struggle to stand on my own.
And I realize that You are the answer I seek.
If we are a part of Your plan,
You will see it to its end.
If it is him I am waiting for,
I must trust in You.
I love him.
But Lord I love You more.
I know You will hold me forever.
Give me strength and patience,
and if we are a part of Your plan,
You will see it completed.
I want him to hold me forever.
In the end You are the answer.
Tell me if he will hold me forever.
In Your Name.
Amen. So let it be.

Your Strength

from a woman to her lover


My darling you are strong.
It's in everything you do.
Your desire to build muscle,
and to develop intellect,
I applaud you.
You want to make yourself better?
Go for it.
You are amazing.
It's in everything you do.
But realize this -
You are human.
And there will be times
Where you can't make it on your own.
Where strength of body,
or strength on mind
will not sustain you.
When you find yourself


up against the wall,
down and can't get back up
hurting
in pain
and there is nothing left of your will


I will be here for you.
Let me be your strength.
At the end of the day
When you are tired
and worn
When you are frustrated with life
and all its problems
I will be here for you.
Let me be your strength.
I will be here to comfort you
aid you
sustain you.


Let me be your secret strength.

Even...

a poem.


Even though he wears some clothes too big,
Even though he's not drop-dead gorgeous,
Even when he gets splotchy from allergies,
Even when sickness leaves him pale and lethargic,
Even if he gets a funky hairdo,
Even if he gets a scar,
he's still handsome.


Even though his hands and feet are big,
Even though he smiles wider than anyone,
Even when he wears sweatpants and a hoodie,
Even when he doesn't shake his head at my silliness,
Even if his facial hair attempts to escape him,
Even if he decides to change his fashion,
isn't he still handsome?


Even though he might not be the first one I wanted,
Even though the road ahead has some bumps,
Even when I am left speechless,
Even when I question everything,
Even if other girls surround him,
Even if I spend my days crazy over him,
he's still handsome.
Because he's my handsome.

It's In The Little Things

It's in the little things he does.
I don't know if he even realizes it.
How much one little deed can mean so much.
To be told Good Morning in the dawn,
Good Night just before I retire,
Is to be reminded that I am loved.
When he strokes my hair,
pushing it tenderly behind my ear,
it tells me he cares.
When he kisses my nose
it tells me I am cherished.
The way he says my name,
reminds me who I am.
The way he knows what I want,
without my saying,
is a phenomena so stunning to me.
Who is this lover of mine?
This complete mystery?
I look into his eyes and see the green of the sea,
intelligence, and adoration.
He holds the door for me,
lets me lead,
meanwhile watching the path ahead
to protect me from harm.
The way he takes my hand
just when I want him to,
the fit so perfect to astound one,
I have to sigh with delight.
I never thought I would find one like him.
Who would know just what to do,
yet in his youth never done it before?
Who would know to please me,
without question from either side?
A stranger to walk into my life,
then over time realizing
we would not do without.
Oh to know him fully,
to understand not just his mind and heart but soul,
such is my heart's desire.
Is he the one I've been waiting for?
Oh if only I could see.
But that which makes me question this,
and hope it is so,
That which makes me wonder,
what makes me ponder upon his affection,
and desire him more,
That which gives me pause,
and makes me stay by his side,
is all in the little things.

Love and War

They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair. War is a horrible thing.
To fight over differences, territory, disputes,
to think you are better than the other,
is wrong.
To try to get on top,
to conquer, to destroy,
is wrong.
When siblings fight they retaliate.
One thing after the other.
Until a parent stops it.
To hold a grudge, to stay angry,
to try to prove yourself the greatest,
is wrong.
War must only happen to keep those
who desire you dead
from killing you.
War must be in self defense.
Never start a war.
Always finish it.
Because war is not fair.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Love is not fair. Love is wonderful thing.
To give your heart, your all to someone,
To put someone other than yourself first,
that is love.
To put aside differences,
to put away your push for survival to help others,
that is love.
And it is not fair.
There is corruption in the world.
No one deserves to be loved.
Especially in war.
To say You Are Loved,
to hold out your hand
to those who just tried to hurt you,
that is not fair.
Fair would be to return the favor.
Fair would be to hurt them back.
That's why war starts.
Because fair is twisted up in our minds.
Eye for eye.
Give what you are given.
That is fair. Or is it?


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


War is not fair.
Back and forth, on and on it goes.
Don't fight. Don't start a fight.
Don't try to prove yourself,
your own agenda,
your own idea of fair.


Love is not fair.
To give grace and mercy
to those trying to fight you,
who do not deserve retribution,
to go beyond fair,
that is love.


They say all's fair in love and war.
They're wrong.


Fair is in the middle.
On one side is war.
Grown from hate and selfishness.
On the other side is love.
Out of choice and above fair.
We try to live in a world of fair.
To fit inside boxes of trade.
But there is war and there is love.
And this world is not fair.
And this life is not fair.


So we have a choice.
Where do we make it fair?
Or is fair simply an illusion?
Brought on to keep us from fighting?
Or to keep us from loving?
Fair is to keep us from giving too much of anything.
But sometimes we must fight.
Just remember never start the war.
Only finish it.
Always we must love.
So stand above fair.
And look to the Cross.
The Lover of Souls died not to make life fair,
But to end the War.
To fulfill Love.
Those who wanted war,
instead received forgiving Love.
It was not fair.
They did not deserve it.
We do not deserve it.
I do not deserve it.
But still I stand above fair.
Because I say with certainty:


I am loved.