I come from my grandmother's loins. Every wrinkle etched on her face, every time her chest heaves as she is pulled under by racking coughs belongs to me. Her pain is mine. Her prayers are the ones I fervently whisper in the dead of the night as I try to will my heart to slow down to a stop. A standstill would be beautiful right now. It is amazing how far back you can trace your beginnings when you have a long enough night. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
My father's face belongs to me. His prayers are mine. The coughs that rake his chest are mine. And I am his. I am my father's daughter.
Sound travels faster in the darkness. When the night air is still and everything feels purified, purged almost like the first chances we have but never really take. And today before you stumble across the sidewalk again because you cannot see, begging a supreme power you think you know, maybe you could stop for a while - draw in the still air of the night. It does not hold your answers love, nothing does. It does not listen to your prayers, or your father's prayers - some things are meant to stay broken, discarded.
Make-believe my love. You were the best daughter we ever had. You brought no sorrow with you. Hide the heavy load of despair behind a tree. Cut down the tree. Bury it in the ocean. You need to show a brave front. You are the bearer of good news. Life has never been better than it is right now. Keep your head up high. You have it all figured out. There is no one who can handle this as well as you do.
Come now darling, you surely do not mean to dwell on your pain and despair. Just beyond the meadow the blue jay sings, it never mocks. Let the rhythm of your heart remind you of dirges sung. Use an upbeat tune hoping to shake away the fear that clings near, ignore the desperation that claws deep. Now the earth was formless and empty darkness was over the surface of the deep.
This is what is going on with me: I will fail you and you know it. My blood has it. I feel it in the inflection of my voice. I see it in the veins on my hands. In the way my nails keep growing no matter how many times I cut them. And I am afraid. Terrified. God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.
Your soul is terrified for you. It cries out when you repair yourself, perhaps a respite. Perhaps the only way all the tears can fit in to the time span you have left. And you should grow into a woman my love.
Next time he gives you a ride choose the back seat. Sit in the middle so that when the urge to throw yourself out of the car chocks your throat you will have nowhere to go. Lovely things die so fast they forget to wilt first. So tonight when your heart caves in on itself know that that is the closest embrace you've had in years - embrace it back.
My father's face belongs to me. His prayers are mine. The coughs that rake his chest are mine. And I am his. I am my father's daughter.
Sound travels faster in the darkness. When the night air is still and everything feels purified, purged almost like the first chances we have but never really take. And today before you stumble across the sidewalk again because you cannot see, begging a supreme power you think you know, maybe you could stop for a while - draw in the still air of the night. It does not hold your answers love, nothing does. It does not listen to your prayers, or your father's prayers - some things are meant to stay broken, discarded.
Make-believe my love. You were the best daughter we ever had. You brought no sorrow with you. Hide the heavy load of despair behind a tree. Cut down the tree. Bury it in the ocean. You need to show a brave front. You are the bearer of good news. Life has never been better than it is right now. Keep your head up high. You have it all figured out. There is no one who can handle this as well as you do.
Come now darling, you surely do not mean to dwell on your pain and despair. Just beyond the meadow the blue jay sings, it never mocks. Let the rhythm of your heart remind you of dirges sung. Use an upbeat tune hoping to shake away the fear that clings near, ignore the desperation that claws deep. Now the earth was formless and empty darkness was over the surface of the deep.
This is what is going on with me: I will fail you and you know it. My blood has it. I feel it in the inflection of my voice. I see it in the veins on my hands. In the way my nails keep growing no matter how many times I cut them. And I am afraid. Terrified. God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.
Your soul is terrified for you. It cries out when you repair yourself, perhaps a respite. Perhaps the only way all the tears can fit in to the time span you have left. And you should grow into a woman my love.
Next time he gives you a ride choose the back seat. Sit in the middle so that when the urge to throw yourself out of the car chocks your throat you will have nowhere to go. Lovely things die so fast they forget to wilt first. So tonight when your heart caves in on itself know that that is the closest embrace you've had in years - embrace it back.
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