Dear God, You s who removes how me, what you will from the east to the west what you want. You plunge me in deep humility and truth at your beckon call. It is you Lord I long to listen to in my heart . It is you who sends me to the ends of the universe and back. I cannot hide, I don't run, and it is you who removes me, sends me, and woos me painfully sometimes.
The bitter cold you send me to rise above this season on warm white clouds of your loves treason. No bag to full or suitcase to deep to prepare the Lords keep. Still I stand with all I can in your commands.
I'd like to make you into a real story. The setting Indiana. The character is dad. He is retiring. Mom who is working from home. The conflict is that Fiori their oldest daughter would like to have been there throught the years of the fast paced aging and time portal of brutal forgetfulness and she couldn't tell anyone that she was ready for the suckage of time and the unfairness of life. She cried and cried and crie some more for her life and her childrens lives. The dream of peace is dangerous." Spurgeon.
Story, if I could get these characters on the page it would be a miracle. Line by line I dream to be on the heaven side of the choices made. Story you can be so beautiful and yet far from reaching and I just want something beautiful to touch me.
Story: that old rugged cross. How can you get me there.
Love,
broken eye
Friday, October 26, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Short Short Poem
A Daughter Mother Perspective: Please cleave me to the old rugged cross.
The ever changing tempertures of Indiana over the four seasons kept Abby close to moms good ideas of hats, coats, scarves, and boots in the winter and bathing suits in the summer. Grow up girl.
Trying to imagine who her mother was outside of her own values of her mother: her deep concern that drove her to tears, swearing, and utter despair drove her out of her own beliefs, her own values of work, relationships, and health back under the roof she once lived under playing with dolls, boys, and building up walls. Maybe it was time to repair bridges, smooth out the ridges and soften the heart. Grow up girl. The more Abby had and seen the less she gave and showed it seemed to her.
"Take out the trash."
"Dad usually does it."
"Make your bed."
"I'm going to get in it in tonight, what difference does it make?"
Afterall it was mother who wasn't kicking her out. Abby saw mother working full time. It made her part time life feel out of line. The loss of friends, and boyfriends were immeasurable. The pain expressed through a long journey to seek God brought a disquieted little Abby into a hunter of faith. There was nothing more that she rather do than to explore, and never say do I have to as dishes and sinks were shines every day. Abby gave up the city life of meeting new people, writing poetry at coffee shops, and living with a young man to live at home with her mom and dad.
Afterall mother held her hand in the hospital bed after late night of quicksand. Mother brought food, clothes, friends, and family under Abby's nose when it was so high it sheltered prayer, and life for everyone. Then God. Mother changed her bandages, and put on the ointments over the wounds. Mother stayed up for nights while Abby cried in pain and was lost and confused puffing up her daughters pillow under her sweet young and pretty head. Mother tucked her little daughters feet under thick warm blankets of fleece instead.
All the years of long silences, and bitter tears brought mother to the front lines of a daughters devasting fears.
"embrace your fears my daughter."
Abbys stretched life and health came from mother and fathers rooftop and stealth of Christianity. Short shorts and black concert tee shirts, cigarettes, and Carmeron Diaz movies identified teenage Abby. She loved concerts of classic rock, never missing Irish rock band U2 when they came to Chicago. Admiring her sisters talent for painting, and keeping a clean room helped her to build ideas that defeated her fears. Coming down to the kitchen late, flat ironing her hair, and hiding as much as she could of herself brought the image of social gossip that glued her down and pressured Abby into
becoming a misfit for a season.
Crashing her dads truck, raising up costs in college with failed classes, procrastination, and hesitation
layed a foundation of money troubles for Abby and her sister who looked up to her.
What a mother would give for a daughter in need, take heed, and see faithfully a mothers perspective of grace and a daughters gratuity when she takes heart, courage, and strength to be the woman God called.
A Daughter Mother Perspective: Please cleave me to the old rugged cross.
The ever changing tempertures of Indiana over the four seasons kept Abby close to moms good ideas of hats, coats, scarves, and boots in the winter and bathing suits in the summer. Grow up girl.
Trying to imagine who her mother was outside of her own values of her mother: her deep concern that drove her to tears, swearing, and utter despair drove her out of her own beliefs, her own values of work, relationships, and health back under the roof she once lived under playing with dolls, boys, and building up walls. Maybe it was time to repair bridges, smooth out the ridges and soften the heart. Grow up girl. The more Abby had and seen the less she gave and showed it seemed to her.
"Take out the trash."
"Dad usually does it."
"Make your bed."
"I'm going to get in it in tonight, what difference does it make?"
Afterall it was mother who wasn't kicking her out. Abby saw mother working full time. It made her part time life feel out of line. The loss of friends, and boyfriends were immeasurable. The pain expressed through a long journey to seek God brought a disquieted little Abby into a hunter of faith. There was nothing more that she rather do than to explore, and never say do I have to as dishes and sinks were shines every day. Abby gave up the city life of meeting new people, writing poetry at coffee shops, and living with a young man to live at home with her mom and dad.
Afterall mother held her hand in the hospital bed after late night of quicksand. Mother brought food, clothes, friends, and family under Abby's nose when it was so high it sheltered prayer, and life for everyone. Then God. Mother changed her bandages, and put on the ointments over the wounds. Mother stayed up for nights while Abby cried in pain and was lost and confused puffing up her daughters pillow under her sweet young and pretty head. Mother tucked her little daughters feet under thick warm blankets of fleece instead.
All the years of long silences, and bitter tears brought mother to the front lines of a daughters devasting fears.
"embrace your fears my daughter."
Abbys stretched life and health came from mother and fathers rooftop and stealth of Christianity. Short shorts and black concert tee shirts, cigarettes, and Carmeron Diaz movies identified teenage Abby. She loved concerts of classic rock, never missing Irish rock band U2 when they came to Chicago. Admiring her sisters talent for painting, and keeping a clean room helped her to build ideas that defeated her fears. Coming down to the kitchen late, flat ironing her hair, and hiding as much as she could of herself brought the image of social gossip that glued her down and pressured Abby into
becoming a misfit for a season.
Crashing her dads truck, raising up costs in college with failed classes, procrastination, and hesitation
layed a foundation of money troubles for Abby and her sister who looked up to her.
What a mother would give for a daughter in need, take heed, and see faithfully a mothers perspective of grace and a daughters gratuity when she takes heart, courage, and strength to be the woman God called.
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