Let Me Gaze at You

The pen and paper are calling out to me, tugging at me everywhere I go, whispering to me every second of the day.
I am drawn to this account -- drawn to this source of strength and solace.

Words wouldn't come out easily, instantly;  the paper needs to wait. My pen is in a halt.
But my keepsake of writing flamed the passion inside me, this excerpt in my journal, I will now share.


Lord, I wanna gaze at You.
Let me, please let me, make me gaze at You.

Your eyes- looking at me knowingly,
not a concern I have hidden from Your eyes.
Your ears - attentive to all the spoken and unspoken words of my mouth.
Your mouth- awaiting to lavish on me sweet words to uplift and comfort me.
Your hands- desperate to reach me and help me
Your arms- wide open to embrace me and carry me when I can no longer walk.
Your feet- always running towards me, after me, before me and with me.

Let me gaze at You. Make me gaze at You only.

That my eyes will not shed tears of sorrow and pain but of joy and healing.
That my ears will not be filled of voices I could not stand hearing but of Your voice alone.
That my mouth will not speak of mourning and bitterness but of praises and love.
That my hands and arms shall seek Your help and embrace
That my feet will run to You, after You and with You only.

That my heart- will not continue to break but will continue to heal wholly.
All of these as I gaze at You--- gaze at You only.

He stays

There are moments when you could say nothing.
No words are brave or strong enough to come out of your mouth.
But He stays, to listen to whatever He could hear from your heart-- the beat and rhythm He has well-known.

There are moments when you want to speak to no one, not even pray.
But He stays, to accompany you in the silence you wish and to wait for you to want to speak to anyone-- to Him hopefully.

There are moments when so many things run through your mind, you can't even pinpoint what bothers you most. Neither could you pour them all out for comfort.
But He stays, to offer you help. Because He knows every bit of the multitude in your head. And He-- the master of gazillion thoughts, waits for you to let Him handle yours.

There are moments when you feel no one could love you, not even yourself.
But He stays, to tell you that nothing can make Him love you less. And to remind you that you are worth loving.

There are moments when you feel like the mess you've made are far more than the right things that you did.
But He stays, to offer forgiveness daily. He stays, waiting for you to return- to welcome you in wide open arms as you repent.

There are so many other moments that occur in our lives -bleak, happy, disappointing, victorious, sad, exciting, etc.

In all these moments, He stays. For leaving us is one thing He doesn't have any idea how to do, and He can never do.

What's Meant to Last

You are allowed to pause for a minute and let the tears come out.
Let them flow, streak down your cheeks.
Let your eyes turn red and your nose too.

You can drown the world with your tears
And for a moment grieve about what pains you,
what suddenly pierced you,
the wound that surfaced.
Let yourself bleed.

Bit by bit let the pain roll away from your eyes.
Let your heart cry out and throw away what keeps it hurting.

Drown the world with your grief for a moment,
But make sure it leaves inside of you.

For a moment, bleed
For a moment, hurt
For a moment, grieve
For a moment, be weak

You are allowed to.
You are welcome to do so.
But not for long.

Because these moments were meant to pass.
And healing is meant to last in your life.

I send you to sea

The photo I used here is from Tumblr. I don't know exactly how I could cite a copyright of it, but hey, I don't own it.

And this is my 2nd attempt in making my own kind of poem porn.

There’s not a thing you left

There’s not a piece of my heart left to be broken

There’s not a piece of my mind left to be perplexed
There’s not a drop of tear left for me to shed

There’s not a tinge of pain left for me to feel

There’s not a sorrow left for me to know

There’s not a rejection left for me to accept

There’s not a betrayal left for me to discover

There’s not a nudge left for me to wait for

before I shatter into pieces

There’s not a single negativity you spared me from

And

There’s not an antidote left with you to heal me.

The Love that chooses us

The Love that we choose to forget
                                           remembers
The Love that we choose to reject
                                           accepts
The Love that we choose to move away from
                                           draws near
The Love that we choose to push away
                                            insists
The Love that we choose to give up
                                           perseveres
The Love that we choose to hurt
                                            forgives
The Love that we choose to curse
                                            blesses
The Love that we choose to disown
                                           pursues us
The Love that we choose to stop
                                           continues
The Love that we choose to break
                                           grows
The Love that we choose to cheat
                                            remains faithful
The Love that we choose to depreciate
                                            values
The Love that we choose to hate
                                           understands
The Love that we choose to abandon
                                           stays

This First Love that so many choose to lose is our true gain.
This Love, His love, that we may choose not to choose, steadfastly chooses us.

Tears stopped and she wrote

Maybe somewhere in a left or right ventricle that bleeds, blood turns into water and finds its way out through the eyes.

These drops happen to be called tears.

Some think they're called tears because they can tear people apart. But tears are supposed to tear the sorrow, anger, and hurt from the big chunks that they are into smaller pieces to let blood circulate freely again in the heart without obstructions.

The eyes that shed the most tears are, of course, the most swollen. (after severe crying)

But aside from that obvious fact, those eyes are paired with hearts that feel the most,  deeply and wholly.

Crying is the language of the hurt, confused, broken, betrayed, and grieving.
They express more than words could do for them when they weep, mourn, and sob.

To some, crying is a weakness, an immaturity, a lack of of rationality.
        They are the insensitive race.
To some, crying is the only resort, a habit, an entire day's toil.
        They are the long-born infants.

To me, the true brave and strong cry.
       
To them, crying is a seasonal or the last blow of pain,
and the first step to being brave and strong.

MISS-ery

Like an infant unable to speak

Like a child learning to walk

Like a teen-ager in confusion

Like a man who can’t express his feelings

Like a mother giving birth 

Is the feeling of a person long separated from her craft

In the moments of silence,

When things can’t be put into words…

The ache in the heart cannot be healed

The longing cannot be quieted

The shouting cannot be silenced

Unless words are weaved

Unless meaning and art are formed

Unless the silence ends

And the words speak, shout and STAND

MISS-ery

The state of a heart away from its joy

Away from its cause

MISS- the strong feeling and desire to do something

MISS-ERY?

Writing is the MISSing piece that will complete.

The Grateful Pair

The eyes that see the ocean of wrongs

The vast sky of sorrows

The radiant sun of rage

The entire land of barrenness

Are but the impaired ones

 

That, which see that wrongs are but islets

Sorrows but few birds in mid-air

Rage but a ray

Barrenness but a yard

Are but the grateful pair

***Busy daysssssssss make me this speechLESS. Haha :)