I’m topless,standing by my window,
Everything but life.
I’ve grown found of affection, Something which has always been foreign to me.
There’s something that feelings so homely about a pillow with a beating heart….
Blanket that resignates with body heat…
And calm breaths that scream “HOME”
This moment is so precious to me.
Conscious of the energy we feeding the moment
Too tired to sleep
Nurturing warmth between the sheets.
I love being held,
And I’m no longer ashamed to confess that,
I no longer associate my emotional fulfilment with weakness.
Creating memories that refuse to be forgotten beyond the pain caused
I am needy because I’m human and I deserve to be held.
My heart has taken a lot of blows in one month alone
It’s too heavy to carry
I just pounce around like I’m unaffected
convincing myself nothing is wrong
I wake up and all I can think is
“I fasted- my faith should be stronger than ever…
Things of the flesh will not affect me.”
So I don’t bother unpacking my tears
And I don’t allow myself to feel the tides brush up on cheeks.
But there’s always that one moment where you choke, and oxygen becomes hard to swallow
That moment of release feels so so sweet
Where all facial fluids release,
where exhaling occurs after every short 5-8 inhales
And everything about crying feels so damn good…
You don’t want to stop –
Just like the bad things don’t.
I don’t thank God enough.
I don’t celebrate myself enough.
Waiting on the sun to sleep
I allow my clothes to grace my ankles.
I turn on the shower –
Grab a wine glass and make it less hollow.
Slip into the shower with the the sole purpose of scrubbing my soul clean from anything a that is not me.
In pursuit of nothing less than self intimacy
Longing to be intimate with myself, and only me.
Hot waters hit my back,
hot vapors hit the ceiling,
dancing in the air,
graciously existing my body,
Stripping away characters that remain long after the person leaves.
Long after the pain.
Finally allowing me to enjoy my company..
My body now feels like home to me.
Laying naked, un ashamed of baring my flaws.
At this point, I am aware that nobody matters more than me.
I get cosy with no intention of touching myself, but rather to invite myself and let myself know me more.
Reintroducing myself to my scars.
Identifying features beyond intertwined branches, drawn from places much deeper – rooted trees in the soil.
“The devil has been trying to expunge every image that represents a loving faithful fathers from our culture. But why is the devil so father -phobic? Because he know that if he can continue to destroy Galilee, through broken dads, it will keep us from discovering that there is a heavenly Father who can turn the fatherless into a family of His beloved ones ”
-Ed Tandy McGlasson
The Father You’ve Always Wanted
What a beautiful book.
You’re the real meaning of staying but leaving.
A cross between a hurricane and tremor infused in water.
But you’re not a disaster,
And you don’t cause one,
But somehow those around your feel the aftermath of your presence,
And It’s not as pretty as you look.
You wonder why people who love you, never want you to stay.
You wonder why they say you keep pushing them away.
There’s just something about you that doesn’t scream “safe”.