the companion of trees

I write to release
the feelings flowing through my veins
and the thoughts that flood my mind.

The words that shout from my lips
fall unto the page and are engrained
in its threads in silence.

The hand that forms a fist connects
with only the pen whence the ink flows,
sparing the walls my rage.

The tears that well in my eyes
increase the fluidity of my fingers
as they move across the surface
expressing pain and joy alike.

The leaves receive them all,
and ne'er once complain for their burden.

weakness unveiled

indecision; the bane of my existence
and source of my frustration.
it is but a wounded heal
pulling me back with each step.
it is that which has plagued
every crevice of my life,
resulting in emotions that
inevitably lead to anger so strong
my muscles ache to release it.

arrival at a verdict that will
then be forcibly maintained
continues to be my failing:
the decision to wake or sleep,
work or waste, go or stay,
love or leave, hold or release,
check the weather or soak to the bone
like a bitch through sprinklers,
live or just stop breathing.

pastel passion

There it stands, blank before me, waiting to be touched, bursting with potential. With each soft stroke it takes a new form, preparing itself for the next. The strokes increase in number and intensity and it responds to it... it expects it... it welcomes it.

The slightest change in pressure of my touch yields visibly rewarding differences. The continuous and patient motion of my hands finally results in a brilliant explosion of contrasting scenes: silk softness merged with rough, hard lines. What was once blank now covered with radiant beauty and colour.

missing

I brace for the inevitable. The void forms quickly inside when my eyes open to the reality that part of me is missing. This is familiar, but each time the void fills, the fresh pain of its emptying seems more difficult than the last. My soul cries.

shine

You become alive, creative, grounded, focused, spontaneous... all your better qualities radiate in her presence. Her nearness accentuates you and you feel free to be true to yourself. She inspires you to greatness and you readily accept her challenge. Love wells within you when you think of her. You find you are deep in love... but not with her, only with the reflection of you.

jocular connection

It was hard for him to learn the part and frustration forced him to have only one tutor patient enough to teach via repetition. He was determined however, and though it took him longer to complete a lesson, once he did, it was more firmly cemented and thus more accurately executed than the other students in his section.

A brilliant scholar, though deathly afraid of both exams and flying, he graduated top of his class and moved on to higher heights. There he came ear to ear with his once patient tutor, now confiding friend. They reaffirmed that which they had in common: their love for humour, their powerful expressions of that love, their devotion to their friends, and lines of communication that stayed wide open no matter the situation or the hour.

Their friendship blossomed and deepened through a physical distance, but emotional closeness. Through many trials they seemingly bore them together, both becoming stronger by their cumulative experiences. He became a tower of strength for her and proved to be one of the most dependable and caring people she would come to know. For this and other reasons (not the least of which is his candid nature and affinity for drama) she finds herself constantly grateful for their camaraderie.

Happy Birthday Jason!

losing labyrinth

at the crossroads once again she is forced to assess before going ahead. she realizes that she has, in fact, not moved at all from where she stood when last she checked. she is lost. she is disappointed that, having travelled this far and felt the end so near, she cannot yet see it. this causes her to fall into despair and contemplate travelling the course most familiar to her... to go back the way she came.

the path already travelled is lined with difficulties she had already overcome to arrive where she now stands. the thought of going that road again is just as depressing as the realization of being stagnant. the only option remains to again attempt to go on. she does so reluctantly, aching with the thought of arriving at this place once more.

lined with content

if all accomplished on any given day is time with friends, that is a day well spent.

circle of friendship

She was late with her first day; we had been there one year before her. All seats were taken except the one in the back corner, with the wall behind the bench, beside me. We smiled and became instant friends.

For four years we had the same classes and friends, ran up and down the fields, played dandy-shandy, Chinese skip, bend down stucky, boys catch girls, danced, and laughed heartily till our sides hurt and we could no longer control the fluid in our mouths. Everyday I called her by both her names. The first major exam of our lives and we each pass and move on to our chosen school – the very same one.

She came in with a smile. We realized we had been classed together after two years of separate classes and friends. She sat next to me and we became number one friends.

For three years, and then another two, we shared classes and friends, ran up and down the fields, played ‘a what?’, spit, kalooki, boy/girl, danced, fought, and laughed heartily till our sides hurt and we could no longer control the fluid in our eyes. Everyday I called her by both her initials. The hardest exam of our lives and we each pass and move on to our chosen path in very different countries.

We shared by mail, email, firefly, ICQ, then msn, and the occasional phone call about boyfriends or major decisions. I flew for her graduation, she for my sister’s wedding, and many others in between.

I was late with my first day; she had been there many years before me. My seat was waiting on the passenger side, right beside her. We smiled and remain infinite friends.

“When it hurts to look back, and you're scared to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there.”
-unknown

burning desire

Through the many heartaches suffered in this short lifetime, nothing pains more than the thought of forever losing someone I love.

To see that person even suffer the slightest pain inflicts the same on me. I wish I could bear it for him, be there with him. There is literally, absolutely nothing that can compare to the despair I feel when I believe he is in real and present danger and I can do nothing to change it. The pit of my stomach falls to open the emptiness inside me, and I can barely hold back the tears.

To any lover of Christ, this is how it feels to know there is someone you love who, at their present state, will be tormented for all eternity and, try as you might, they will not decide to be removed from this fate. That is the epitome of absolute sorrow, and that is what I bear everyday for those I love that may know about the way in their head, but it has never made the journey to their heart.

‘I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh…’
-Paul the Apostle

smile and nod

‘There will never come a point when a willing and pervasive collective deception removes the line of deception itself, when I will mask the misery of my life with a plastic sheen of effervescence and then tragically forget it is a mask.’
-Keiran King

It is indeed difficult to adequately express the dislike for this place in which I have lived for the past two years. I too appreciate that my feelings from the very beginning had little to do with the actual place, and much to do with the native people. The way they move in their colourless fashion; no depth, no genuine vibrance, no real passion… just empty shells walking, talking and smiling.

The isolation felt by others who enter is only eased by the presence of those who share these similar feelings and experiences; of those with a determination to remain separate. Such is my relief. It is more than comfort to realize that, though my path through this densely counterfeit air gets lonely, there are others who walk it with me.

blooming blues

‘The flowers live by the tears that fall from the sad face of the skies, and life would have no joy at all were there no watery eyes…’
-author forgotten

True, that joy becomes all the more intense when preceded by long spells of sadness. Along with it blossoms an even more deeply rooted sense of appreciation, and time is once again restored as the emotional healer.

But truly exciting is something even more intense: to find joy waiting in the very same spot that sorrow once sat.