Awkward in this world,
Is the way I walk around.
Not comfortable in the skin God gave me,
Timid, and among others, still alone.
Preferring to hide away from people,
So as not to be exposed.
I wish to conceal the pain,
That I nurse and help grow.
Many pains, fears, and inadequacies,
Haunt and control me to my core.
I feel eyes upon me while I move,
As a stranger through this world.
Awkward glances and awkward smiles,
I’m intimidated by every flicker of shadow or light.
I know not how to just “be”,
And capture freedom from this awkward plight.
This was written January 9, 2013- Four days after I quit using/drinking. I’ve come a loooong way, but admit I have further to let God bring me. I’m still way too comfortable with isolation, but I don’t feel like the awkward stranger I once identified with. Thanks for reading!
Her umbrella settles upside down,
Open, but on the ground.
She grasps it by the firm handle,
And drags it slowly, letting it dangle.
The rain is falling in unforgiving buckets,
She’s drenched, cold and adapted to numbness.
Her steps are staggered, her head hangs low,
Dusk is upon her, and she’s all alone.
She feels a pull, a prompting from deep within.
To set the umbrella, upright again.
Slightly hesitant, she complies,
Lifting her head to join her open eyes.
Present once more in the moment,
Awareness restored, yet remaining reticent.
Her feet steadying, weakly standing tall,
Grasping the hand reaching out, preventing her fall.
The hand of God, powerful, and nostalgically familiar,
Love, warmth, and light surreal.
He calms the storm inside her soul,
Her upright umbrella; she’s alone no more.
Blank canvas no more,
Anger, joy, sorrow, pain,
Making known internal lore.
Storytelling through random arrangements,
Implementing fates’ unbridled design.
Energies born of the varied spectrum,
Create layers of sublime.
Art’s voice is heard,
Creativity’s expression given life.
By splatters of paint,
Meant to illuminate what’s inside…
The sight of human suffering,
The sound of another’s pain.
I feel such angst, over my minimal power,
To bring about much needed change…
Suffering, like flourishing blossoms,
From foundational, fertile soil.
Petals fall like tears from swollen eyes,
Turmoil and distress are nourished and toiled.
There’s a world of hurting souls,
Yet many a closed eye remain.
The wilting and fallen are often ignored,
Perpetuating heartache’s stains.
Water, sunlight, and tending,
Compassionate hands for healthy growth,
Prayers, time, and giving,
Sharing love can ease pain and give needed hope…
Another life lost,
To the demon addiction.
Death was his conclusive escape,
Not sure it was his intention.
While our aim is not always our demise,
We use with fierce intensity.
Seeking oblivion in any form,
Some sort of life-reprieve.
Despondent over failed attempts to stop,
This bondage is so difficult to evade…
Try as we may to fight it alone,
It’s hold is unrelentingly vicious.
It’s cold fingers grasp us by the throat,
Carving ownership brands into our flesh.
It’s easy to submit to the nagging pull,
Sometimes it’s just too hard to fight.
We buy into the illusion,
That this is our only hope, for life.
Rest for your soul I wish for you.
The tears no longer will plague your days.
Pains final release, what you were searching for,
Has arrived, just so sorry it ended this way…
Getting in touch with that pain,
The deep seated hurt which whispers
Remembrances upon raw ears.
Escape seems the only option,
So you seek it where you can.
No easement in your bereavement.
No comfort for your soul.
On fire with the unrelenting flames of sadness,
Waiting, biding time, wishing for the numbness
Humanity can never provide.
So you sit alone, and cry…
Seemingly endless tears
Threaten to submerge you in a watery abyss,
Which you prefer to living.
To float upon pains’ waves
In search of an island where you can stay.
Where memories of them
Aren’t tangibly all encompassing.
Void of the trinkets and images
Confined to frames.
The frames with illusive boundaries,
Unable to contain their essence,
Once treasured and admired.
In time these feelings will subside?
One day I won’t be chained to this preoccupation?
Peace will return while I know breath?
Or will I continue to remain in this desolation?
May you look to God,
Comforter to the broken hearted.
I wish you peace for your soul,
And liberation from your despondence.
Time softens the anguish,
Believe what you cannot see
The hope of healing,
And lessening of your grief.