W-a-l-k-i-n-g

With each day, I take a step....some days, the step is fearless and seems more like a LEAP into midair and other days.....my soul quivers at the thought and its takes all of me to urge my foot just a little further.

It's in the little victories, my story, the prayer of a young daughter, the struggles of two women, those that are one of us, the support found through social media, pictures capturing a different perspective, my husband's kiss....

I have questioned....and asked. I have some inclinations, but I shy away from assumption.

Until the end!

But for now, with each day I will take a step and lean upon the little victories where I certainly see your hand.

One of Us

Day after day after day after day.....morning and night, and in between....at work at play, Day after day after day.....drama. We have never met and I have never heard her voice, but drama. I cut myself, but it doesn't help, she says....and my family puts me down, fatty girl they say.....but I have anorexia nervosa. I have no pride, my self esteem hangs by a thread. I have done awful things for attention, just SOME attention, from anyone....awful things, dirty things, she says.

Drama!

The kids throw objects at my head and ask me if I own a brush or a comb or even a hair bow....I roll my eyes and walk away, she says, mumbling..."the bastards." (Fighting tears)

She's fourteen, and an alopecian...one of us!

So I guess, I'll be on the other end of the text message, day after day after day after day.....morning and night, and in between....at work at play, day after day after day, helping her deal with her drama.

Bystander

There are few who have watched it all unfold;seen the delicate twist and turns take shape, none like the bystander. Few know the emotions of the bystander as events happen, he is never questioned to give an account of all seen. And if so, would he imagine a different outcome. What if he forni/fabricated, heaven forbid with the key players. Yet silent is his role, yet you wonder why there are bystanders at all - everything has purpose.

The law has been broken, there should be division between the reality, focal point and the periphery. What happens when the two collide.....confusion of roles, I guess.

Yet the bystander is full, full of opinions about the goings on, he even cultivates express feelings not delayed by commercial breaks between news clips. He has a life created involving himself with the events in the distance and a world only beknownst to him - a past, present, and future swirled up within arms reach.

That life is tough, know one knows his pain. Not even I...

In the beginning

I am sure as I embark on this quest to join the millions who habitually splatter their souls on vitual media, I will devulge my past, but for now, just know that "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair." - Brother Hughes.

At present, I find myself struggling, fighting, making numerous decisions on a daily basis that end up in action of some sort. Some propel me, others lie in wait; some tear at my heart resulting in wounds that will never heal, while some.....in retrospect...I can see the Master's hand (His existence is vital - or I am undone). I often wonder about His gifts and His withholdings.

I have more days of accountability than wanted and few days of wandering. I am innately a wanderer, but bridled nevertheless. My body remains, but 'O' does my soul wander. (This freedom is vital - misunderstood, but vital - or I am undone).

Amidst the lullaby, lies my world of planning. White noise clams my inner need for presence, but there is presence....too much presence....White noise needed and, lavendar (halo smiles at lavendar, as if overtaken). There all comes to me. (This and the blessed rest is vital - or I am undone).

I carry a flower trying not to crush its petals, it blooms for me....can't forget to water it. It's thorn pricks me, hidden at the base of its stem. I bleed myself back into planning. Beautiful flower, it is fragrant for me, but I know many fragrances. This flower bears friut for me...If I don't gather it, it will rot on the ground. (Tending thie garden is vital - or I am undone).

Peace has a cry and a want that shows its head in deceit and by force. ( I must make time for peace, it is vital - or I am undone)

And last, is my heart, folded into myself, once upon myself, watching myself, misunderstanding myself. I hurt myself, I love myself, I nuture myself, I discipline myself, I pray for myself (I need the return of love from myself - it is vital - or I am undone)

I am presented to the world.