Category Archives: Introspection

Jewels of Her Tears

The tears of a woman
Are jewels from the hand of heaven.
They are a down payment
On a future of love, joy, and companionship.

A man who can’t handle
The tears of a woman
Will never treasure the heart of a woman.
Abba numbers a woman’s tears.
He dances with the happy tears,
Weeps as she mourns,
And acts justly on the angry tears.
A man who follows after Abba’s heart
Will wisely and judiciously
Count each shed tear
A jewel in his heavenly crown.
He will treasure the trust
She shows by crying before him.
He will never harm
A weeping princess of God Most High.

Only a sophomoric sop turns his back.
Only a fool ignores a woman who weeps.
Only a coward scorns the jewels falling from her face.

Your Mistake

You were given a treasure,
A jewel of great value
Buried in the dust
Among the graves and ruins of humankind,
But you were young.
You lacked experience.
You were befuddled by the weeping woman-child.
You could have held her,
But you hung your arms bewildered.
She could have been yours,
Whisked away from another man-child.
You could have wooed her all night,
But you botched the job.
You passed her off.
Who knows what was lost that night?

Waiting Room

Sitting and waiting
On a day we knew would come for months
Exhaustion wrestles anxiety in an epic match
It looks like exhaustion has anxiety in a submission hold
But anxiety kicks out
I know you’re in good hands
But I’m alone
Help asked for always denied
So Jesus sits watching invisibly at my back
If I could dig trust out of the heart closet
Life would be better for us all

For My Husband…

Author’s Note: This is based on the song, “Bless the Broken Road,” performed by both Selah and Rascal Flatts. I’m including a link to the Selah version here.

“Bless the Broken Road” in surround sound–
And I believe every word,
Yet the pain in the journey
Sears my heart and floods my eyes.
It wasn’t the North Star
Leading me to your arms.
It was the man
Your broken road shaped in you,
Blessed by Jesus.
But my road still isn’t straight,
And I can’t find the joy and strength
To bless my broken road.
Hold me close and don’t let me go
Until joy in the journey dries my eyes.
Bless me with your love.
Hold me in your arms and on my feet.

Love me
Until I can love you
The way you deserve.

 

Ending the Cycle… This Time…

I know the last few pieces have been more dark and somber. I do thank you for sticking with me through it. Yet I think it was time to lance that roiling mess in my heart. I’m hoping not to write on it again… ever… But it’s like most things in life… it’s cyclical, and the next time will be better.

I would like to share some final related thoughts as Christmas nears and I prepare to celebrate the birth of the Light of the World. Even as I write these, Zippy is scratching at his doggy bed waiting to take over my keyboard, and I have a new poem for my hubby just in time for Christmas.

First, you would think after my experience I would support gun control. I do not. No law will ever stop those hellbent on destruction and chaos from creating it. Rather I support teaching all of us–gun owners and the gun-shy alike– what responsible gun ownership and responsible gun handling look like. When you know what should be, it’s easier to recognize what isn’t. Also, I support having game plans for those in the presence of irresponsible gun owners and handlers, as well as means for reporting those irresponsible with gun ownership and handling.

Second, I encourage you to do some research on Della Reese. Ignore her days on Touched by an Angel; ignore her years as a minister of God’s grace. Find information on her abuse and survival. I found a good summary on YouTube. While my abuse was a little different (I was blessed to leave before I had marks on my body), her openness to discuss her situation and how much experience she had before picking her abuser as her partner helped me to recognize that nothing was my fault and gave me the courage to face the darker parts of my abuse history.

Third, some abusers can change. It takes Christ and a lot of hard work. If they change, they do deserve a second chance…with appropriate supports and supervision. However, the victims and survivors will have feelings that should be considered as well.

Finally, this is a hard time of year for some. I’m including some related hotline numbers and web sites. Please don’t become a statistic if you’re in a bad situation; choose life and hope and get help.

Telephone Numbers

  • National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
  • Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-422-4453
  • National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
  • National Runaway Safeline: 1-800-RUNAWAY

Web Sites

Letting Go

Author’s Note: Hoping against all hope this is the last on this topic for this year. Late fall was never my time of year; I always seemed to face tough decisions with the wrong outcome or received bad news. (Yes, I am publishing way after authoring. 🙂 )

Always different, never fitting in,
Meandering, orbiting, never connecting,
Yet somehow I found brothers and friends.

But the shackle on my finger
Locked the blinders on my eyes.
A weapon invisible in the distant mists
Barred me from taking the shackle and blinders off.

My heart was frozen…
My mind was a rock…
My tongue was a sword…

I wanted to push you away,
To protect you,
I couldn’t, wouldn’t cradle bloody, cold corpses.

I just wanted to hide in the open for a while
So your lives could shine.

I called “Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free,”
But you were all gone,
Like sand flowing over my fingers
Digging at the shore.

Some are lost, some are found,
And nothing’s coming back,
Nothing’s back for me now.

And though I’ve seen light and life and joy,
The prison door’s still open.
I crawl in,
Covered in my briny tears,
Wallowing in guilt and loss, shame and remorse.
Then push out,
Becoming a joy filled robot again.

Someday…
I want to tear the prison down;
I want to let it all go;
I want to really live free with joy.

For now…
It’s only words–
Too few at the time,
Too many too late.

Rock, Paper, Scissors… Gun!

Author’s Note: In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’ve been some very dark places. But I am in a good place now. So with the help of appropriate supports I am going back to the dark places and giving myself the voice I didn’t have then. This is dedicated to all victims and survivors of domestic violence, dating violence, and relationship abuse.

Rock, Paper, Scissors…
Simple child’s play.
Nerds ramped it up
Based on dark places.
Gun scares dog.
Gun burns paper.
Gun shoots lizard.
Spock disarms gun.
Rock smashes gun.
Scissors jam gun.
But that’s child’s play,
And the little girl in the woman can’t play.
She can’t come out to play.
The gun not held to her head
Jams her heart and mind.
She cries and shakes and begs:
What kills gun in real life,
What kills gun in real life?!?
Gun scares girl.
Gun burns friends.
Gun doesn’t shoot yet…
Why didn’t Jesus disarm the gun?
Why couldn’t love smash the gun?
Angels did jam the gun.
The gun blast never heard
Set off sparks in a powder keg.
Ring around the girl
Burns it all to ash
We all fall and never shine as we were meant to.
And still the ghost gun makes the little girl ask,
“What hurts gun?”