Maple

The bottom of the maple tree 

suited my purposes, so I 

dug down with my bare hands 

until I uncovered the roots. 

I took the tin box filled to the

brim with you, and stuck it 

between those mighty veins. 

The dried blushing roses, 

the letters and the poems, 

and even your marbled heart

arranged between the tissues

that dried all the tears you 

gave me, buried in the ground. 

And there my love can grow, 

warped in the roots of that big 

maple tree, rather than inside of 

a heart that can no longer 

sustain life. The only evidence 

left behind is the black dirt 

on my hands from covering 

it up. 

You no longer deserve

the cries of my heart. 

I Wish These Words Were Mine Sometimes...

O LORD,
No day of my life has passed that has not proved me guilty in thy sight.
Prayers have been uttered from a prayerless heart;
Praise has been often praiseless sound;
My best services are filthy rags.
Blessed Jesus, let me find a covert in thy appeasing wounds.
Though my sins rise to heaven thy merits soar above them;
Though unrighteousness weighs me down to hell,
              thy righteousness exalts me to thy throne.
All things in me call for my rejection,
All thing in thee plead my acceptance.
I appeal from the throne of perfect justice
              to thy throne of boundless grace.
Grant me to hear thy voice assuring me:
              that by thy stripes I am healed,
              that thou wast bruised for my iniquities,
              that thou hast been made sin for me
              that I might be righteous in thee,
              that my grievous sins, my manifold sins, are all forgiven,
                     buried in the ocean of they concealing blood.
I am guilty, but pardoned,
        lost, but saved,
        wandering, but found,
        sinning, but cleansed.
Give me perpetual broken-heartedness,
Keep me always clinging to thy cross,
Flood me every moment with descending grace,
Open to me the springs of divine knowledge,
          sparkling like crystal,
          flowing clear and unsullied
               through my wilderness of life.

-- "The Broken Heart",  The Valley of Vision, Puritan Prayers

To Distract a Weary Mind...

I seem to have this immediate need to throw my energy into anything but thinking. 
I was watching The Golden Girls with my grandmother last night, and laughed so hard I cried. In a "eureka!" moment, I realized this show would do just the trick in distracting my exhausted heart and aching mind. Currently Watching: Episode 13 of Season One. 


Favourite Character: Sophia. She reminds me of my grandmother, but Italian.
Second Favourite Character: Rose. Dumb as a stump, but so kind and tender-hearted.

Something Beautiful

Everything in my line of sight
is a slightly broken reflection
of what was once so beautiful.
My dull eyes used to shine,
with a joy that you inspired in me,
And my empty hands used to hold yours,
with such light and honest hope,
but now all I have are the memories.
The tiny snap shots of our story
that never had this end in mind.
There's no rewriting, no reliving,
just the one comforting thought:
that if I look at something beautiful long enough,
then maybe I'll remember what beauty is.