he is a wayfarer
wandering in the asylum of broken trees.
he falls over their roots and rocks,
but never touches their broken leaves.
he makes fist over fist
aligns each knuckle to knuckle,
careful to keep his palms from smudging,
their trenches stretching across from coast to coast.
all he's ever learned were words without meanings,
stories without morals,
and names without faces.
and all he'll ever touch will be broken trees,
never their broken leaves.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
QT
Exodus 31:1-6
"And I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability, and knowledge in all kinds of crafts [...] to make everything I have commanded you."
My first reaction: Thank you God! Praise the Lord, I needed this.
My second thought: "to make everything I have commanded you"? ... What do you want me to make? Damn it.
And, yes, I need to go out and make disciples of all nations. yes, You have commanded me to love. But you see, what I need, is something more specific. Like, "Irene, go out there and study this, and go here, and do this, and make this much money, marry this man, and blah blah." What I want, is a road map that would just tell me where I'm going.
I'm human. I need to be assured that I'm going somewhere. People nowadays can't get to a grocery store without letting their GPSs tell them to turn left. I need to know that I WILL have money in my hands, that I will get into some school, that at the same time, I'm walking with God and doing what He commanded me to do.
I'm human. I need visual assurance, tangible proof so I won't be nervous for a second, because my faith is so small, because I'm human.
I need a Golden Calf.
My Golden Calf can be college acceptance letters. It can be rebellious thoughts of being a cute 'badass'. It can be a boy. The point is, God's not gonna give me a Golden Calf.
I'm human, and my biggest struggle is resisting from taking off all my pretty ornaments for a Golden CAlf.
"And I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability, and knowledge in all kinds of crafts [...] to make everything I have commanded you."
My first reaction: Thank you God! Praise the Lord, I needed this.
My second thought: "to make everything I have commanded you"? ... What do you want me to make? Damn it.
And, yes, I need to go out and make disciples of all nations. yes, You have commanded me to love. But you see, what I need, is something more specific. Like, "Irene, go out there and study this, and go here, and do this, and make this much money, marry this man, and blah blah." What I want, is a road map that would just tell me where I'm going.
I'm human. I need to be assured that I'm going somewhere. People nowadays can't get to a grocery store without letting their GPSs tell them to turn left. I need to know that I WILL have money in my hands, that I will get into some school, that at the same time, I'm walking with God and doing what He commanded me to do.
I'm human. I need visual assurance, tangible proof so I won't be nervous for a second, because my faith is so small, because I'm human.
I need a Golden Calf.
My Golden Calf can be college acceptance letters. It can be rebellious thoughts of being a cute 'badass'. It can be a boy. The point is, God's not gonna give me a Golden Calf.
I'm human, and my biggest struggle is resisting from taking off all my pretty ornaments for a Golden CAlf.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
what she chose
she chose silence
over words.
she would rather cook in silence -
Drown her anguished heart in the pot of boiling broth,
Chop her choked consonants along with the onions,
Measure the pinches of salt while carefully crafting
her untold stories that will remain buried under her teeth.
she chose repression
over expression.
she chose suffocation
over ventilation.
she chose silence
over words.
she would rather tend to her spices and seasonings,
because for her, to cook is easier than to talk.
over words.
she would rather cook in silence -
Drown her anguished heart in the pot of boiling broth,
Chop her choked consonants along with the onions,
Measure the pinches of salt while carefully crafting
her untold stories that will remain buried under her teeth.
she chose repression
over expression.
she chose suffocation
over ventilation.
she chose silence
over words.
she would rather tend to her spices and seasonings,
because for her, to cook is easier than to talk.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
today is those days
This man Sean Moeller took the words out of my mouth when I was trying to describe today:
"There are those days when we feel like we couldn't be more lost, as if we're literally fumbling around without any sort of pattern or clear destination in mind. We're blurry on the edges, half seeing things and half seeing right through them. We're breathing in fog, breathing out fog and our teeth are chattering incoherent error messages, making it feel as if every inch of our skin is short two or three heavy-duty blankets. We're off somewhere, for all intents and purposes, gone - out in the ether. These are the days when we feel that, to cut our losses, we should just remain on the sides of the windows where the least amount of damage can be done to us, where we're at least as safe as our belongings, our hoarded stuff makes us feel."
"There are those days when we feel like we couldn't be more lost, as if we're literally fumbling around without any sort of pattern or clear destination in mind. We're blurry on the edges, half seeing things and half seeing right through them. We're breathing in fog, breathing out fog and our teeth are chattering incoherent error messages, making it feel as if every inch of our skin is short two or three heavy-duty blankets. We're off somewhere, for all intents and purposes, gone - out in the ether. These are the days when we feel that, to cut our losses, we should just remain on the sides of the windows where the least amount of damage can be done to us, where we're at least as safe as our belongings, our hoarded stuff makes us feel."
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