Pondering The Walls

What happens when the walls that were originally designed, constructed, erected to keep out pain or memory or loss become permanent fixtures, a constant, part of the design?

What if walls have been there so long that no one remembers what it was like before they existed--therefore, in the minds of all, those walls have always existed?

Self-protection was the motive for these walls--to keep out anything and anyone who attempts to get in, get through to that place--where we are most vulnerable?

Self-preservation is the reason we allow the walls to settle in, downward, ensuring the strength of the foundation of fear which created them in the first place.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

These walls are strong, they will hold.
I can allow whomever I wish to enter and be safely contained with me.

These walls are sturdy, they will last forever.
I will allow them to put down roots; no one will question their existence, presence.

These walls are infallible, because I will it to be so.
I can ensure their existence by believing they will never be infiltrated or destroyed.

These walls are my walls, and I own them.
I will maintain ownership until I breathe my last--they are wholly mine.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

Within these walls, I make the rules.
Within these walls, I am in control of the emotional atmosphere.
Within these walls, I am safer than I would be without them.
Within these walls, it's only me. And sometimes you.

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This oddly constructed prosaic poetry was written after contemplation about "wall building"--a psychological questioning about how we create walls and reconstruct reality via the building of walls.

Yes, it was inspired by a true story.

How to Help a Sad Girl

She used to sing and dance
And wave her hands and heart
Freely.

Now she hums and hops
And starts to wave but
Stops.

Something has happened
To this girl who used to
Live and Laugh and Love.

She is sad now.

These days, she doesn't eat;
Flashes dark eyes in response
To questions or correction.

She has distanced herself
At just eleven now--
Something has changed her.

Her eyes are sad.

This once-bubbly girl
Sparkled in sequined light,
A walking ray of sunshine.

This, too, has changed.

Oh, how to help a sad girl--
Is there a way to unlock
The fear or pain within her?

From whence cometh this sadness?

Who can peel back the layers
Of self-defense to reveal
The little girl we once knew?

Sad girl, please take my hand.

Here, in my heart, is joy.
You can share it with me.
Here, in my hands, is peace--
I give it freely.
Here, take this song--
I wrote it for you.

Listen to my prayer for you,
Free spirit to spirit,
Feel my love for you;
It is full and there is plenty;
You don't have to perform
To receive it...

I bless you with my love.
I pray for your peace.
I speak renewal and joy restored:
You are beautiful, creative,
You are special, unique,
Perfect in every way.

There is no one like you
And He deemed it to be so.
Can't you see it?
I pray that you can see it,
For if you can catch a glimpse
Of YOU, you will be aware.

No more sad girl.

The Christmas Aisle!

It's September 20th today, and as I was shopping for basics at the Dollar Store, I stumbled across the CHRISTMAS aisle!!! Yes, I said it!!!! CHRISTMAS!!! I was literally trying to contain my sheer JOY!!!

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE LOVE LOVE CHRISTmas?!?! Seriously!!!

I nearly bought a CHRISTmas tree tonight!!! And it's not even Halloween. And it's not even Thanksgiving. But I very nearly bought a tree to put up tonight!!! I'm feeling the NEED for CHRISTmas lights!!!

*smiling*

Bucket List Thoughts: September

Thinking today of my
Bucket List.
All the Things I'd like to do
In the time remaining:

I'd like to publish a book--
A non-fiction motivational
AND a juvenile fiction novel
AND a children's book.

I'd like to be interviewed on TV--
Something that inspires people
To love themselves and others
More than they've ever loved before.

I'd like to travel to foreign lands:
Spain and France and Israel,
Ireland and England (again),
Maybe even China or Australia!

I'd like to visit every continent,
Go scuba diving, parasailing,
Meet Joel and Victoria Osteen,
Collaborate on a produced screenplay.

I'd like to get a celebrity-style makeover,
Lose weight, take a ballet class,
Learn to play guitar, write music,
Perform in a coffee shop.

These are just a few of the things
I would like to do in my life:
But most of all, and above all,
My heart's desire is to please The Lord.

Dream Chasing

This Great Slowing Down
I've been experiencing
Has made me wonder
About the time I have left:

Is it time to abandon
The Dream Chasing?

Many things are vying
For the time I have
And I only have
So much to give...

Have I past my prime
For Dream Chasing?

There are days I try
To convince myself
That dreaming dreams
Is for the young.

But is there such a thing
As Old Dream Chasers?

In my quiet moments,
I am inspired to believe
That everything I have
Envisioned could happen.

Might I then engage
In this Dream Chasing?

What have I to lose
For trying?--If I fail,
At least I've tried, and
If I achieve it, I achieve it.

Move over for This Girl:
I'm still Dream Chasing!

Not Enough Time

There's not enough time in the world
To do what is on my heart to do.
When I dare to dream of what could be,
I remind myself that I need to be up
Doing something about it.

When I consider all there is to accomplish,
I find myself struggling to hold it all
In the fragile basket I carry in my hands--
And I realize there are only so many things
That I will be able to carry in my lifetime.

There's just not enough time--
And when I sit and think about it,
Part of me wants to shut down,
Close the doors to my energy,
Take a siesta...

But there's not enough time for that, either--
Trying to convince myself that I can
Somehow slow time is a delusion
That I cannot afford to adopt:
This is it--and it's got to be enough.

This is all I get.

Wasting Time

I worry about nights spent
Doing nothing in particular;
On one hand, necessary
To let my mind wander;
But on the other hand,
I wonder what I could have
Accomplished in the minutes
I will never get back.

But this is what they call
Wasting Time.

While I'm sitting, feeling numb,
Lazily placated by mindless
Chatter, shows and songs
That I'll never remember,
There are moments when
I hear the precious tick tock
Within me, trying to rouse me:
I know there is only so much left.

This is what I call
Wasting Time.