If the faith of a mustard seed could move a mountain, I would desire that faith and more.
I am irrefutably shy, in spite of possible bold first impressions and sporadic confessions of honesty, unwavering words and pinpoint clarity.
In a room filled with people gravitating in spaces not mine alone, it takes all of me to hold still and breathe. I am unable to understand how can one just co-exist in situations unplanned, in places new. Anchors I look for, to steady the tumultuous waves of my anxious heartbeat.
You are safe now, are the words whispered, is the hand that holds mine, are the eyes glancing quietly, is the folded origami crane before me.
And though I fear the impending darkness, I know that these things will keep me secure for a little longer.
Not all secrets have to be filled with the weight of a drowned corpse, guilt hanging on the leg one cannot shake loose. I am accustomed to keeping sad things secret, but more so for the happy things too.
There’s something about preciousness that cannot be shared with others, lest beauty and wonder is lost. Don’t gain partial ownership or the ability to change it up, let it stay an unbroken memory for the cold days ahead. I am no fool, to leave a gem on the beach for the enchanting ocean to steal.
Call me selfish, and I will perhaps find no heart to deny — for sometimes we hold on so tightly until the insides of our palms make crescent cries. Take a look at what is photographed in quiet, the boundless whispers stalking across the mind. The things to immortalise.
I don’t know about you (if you exist), but for me? With numbers need not be told, I have stood in a place watching, hoping to remember for always.
There are many pains that we bear with.
The tiny pebble caught in one’s shoe, thin papercut etched on the finger, looking for something that isn’t there, choosing to never fully wake up ever again.
There are many pains that we bear with.
And sometimes? It’s for the rest of our lives.
I am incurably poor in a world that never stops talking. This is how I keep up, seeking solace at the edges though some rooms persist in a cornerless round. Quiet the flutter which arrives like that of a frantic winged creature in a steel cage. Find a plain unsuspecting wall for the mind to draw shapes on.
Yet for you, why — I will make sure that this limited change lasts.
While they say that time is a construct, it’s difficult to think of it that way.
Time zones have a way of dividing everything: geography, space, time, feelings.
While I’m struggling through today, you’re already one foot into tomorrow.
Time zones have a way of making one feel left behind.
— minus seven; one year ago
“… You are probably one of the most kindest people I have ever known. In a world so mean and dark you seem to look past it all and persevere.”
Give me a faith that teaches me to praise even in the face of the seemingly unshakable walls of Jericho, of problems deeper beyond my sight.
I remember being told that I’ll have a gift from that day onward, but know not what it’ll contain for years more.
Can it be folded? Is it fragile, does it come in pairs? Can it be seen or is it like the warmth you feel by a fireplace. Is it heavy, will it find strength to float in the throes of desperation? If I try to unpick it, will I find it empty.
How am I to decipher this item? Two years ago I thought of it to be mercy, but it would seem that 2018 tells me otherwise.
Let’s count in reverse, from ten to zero.
Know that this gift, be it revealed or not, should be used for His glory.
Why me? he finally asks
And the other, why
Stood smiling, unnerving he
I am small and rudely insignificant
More sooner gone than here
The nuisance of a sandy grain left in the shoe
Dust upon dust crumbling
Remains buried in cold earth.
Why you? He replies
And the other, which
Hastily looked away from the Maker
Upon you I lavished love and stumbling affection
A mark remaining ages after
The refuge for the raging ocean
Masterpiece in the unlikely
The soil in which the beautiful grow.
Why me? he whispers in quiet wonder
And the other, He
Gently extends the nail-pierced hands as a gift to be received.