Fix Me

Yesterday evening, I took a long walk around my neighborhood for some fresh spring air. I was bored and I needed something new for a change.
 Lately I just feel lost in all this noise and I feel numb. Numb to everything. I'm mutating into this person who I've never encountered before and It scares me to death. I go to bed every night not knowing if I'll wake up the next morning; most people just say that, but I live with those thoughts as they finally sing me to sleep every single night. It's so scary, too scary, sometimes I don't want to go to sleep. It's like I'm screaming inside and no one can hear me. Daily grace says, "I need Jesus!" And yes, I know He's there with me through it all but lately, I just don't see/feel Him. I feel like a withered tree by a running river and inside me I have all these loose emotions running wild like a nudist colony in July. I'm confused and it's okay because times like this remind me of my humanity and weakness. There are so many words around me; words that do nothing but set my confused mind on fire. I need some quiet in here. Too much noise scares me. It makes me lose control of my emotions. So here, I am, Jesus. Fix me. I'm broken inside in many places, prisoner in a body I wish to be freed from. If you are there, deliver me

Times have changed

"They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time. It'll be the last you hear them say it.

I heard the dry winds of an early summer sigh through trees, which once stood beautiful with the inenarrable blooms of spring as they flaunted their beauty with pride like peacocks. After a torrent of rainfall in spring, which most said was abnormal, their leaves withered, and their barks were rough like they'd been sandpapered with sharp knives. No one feared the drought that lingered in the shadows of fall: no one did, so dancing and merrymaking was chosen over the most suitable option of preparation. Most of it involved relentless gathering and of food and water for survival but everyone celebrated life in the name of "seizing the days". After all, no one could outrun, outlive, or outshine the crown of death. Strangers became friends, friends became lovers, even animals were considered family. Men pouted in their corners drunk over beer and bad wine: their bellies protruding out of their tattered clothes and their funny posterior. They boasted of their ancient glories and bitterness than no love had been able to cure. Love itself was overrated; it had promised many bliss and wonder and their disappointed faces did little justice to the hurt and ruins it had left them in. I heard their deepest fears call out when they smiled and their heart burst with pain each time they laughed. I was afraid for them. I was afraid that they'd lost the strength to love again.

Sunflower and Tulip

These wastelands lay bare with no sign of life, and I’m tormented by the demons that lurk in the shadows created by distant trees and the glimmering moonlight. Underneath the oak tree I sat and watched, enraptured by the embers of a campfire that once scintillated in the darkness. I’m scarred by my own reflections- horrified even, by the mystical darkness hovering over these lands; lands that once defined beauty. For the first time in many years, I heard the cryptic words of nature calling to me. I was lost in a deep sleep and in a surreal land full of infinite possibilities. It was then I remembered what your soothing voice sounded like. It had, in the not so distant past, serenaded me from the dry, dark skies above at ungodly times of sleep deprivation and meager love. I felt my body yield to the lullabies that floated on your sincere lips as they echoed in the cushioned walls of my ears. You were the ideal of what I had always known to be beauty itself; beauty of the heart and mind. My dreams were studded with vivid images of us grooming the love we shared, and more than once, we sat in a field of flowering red and white roses sharing abstract ideas of love and hate. Somewhere in the middle stood a radiant sunflower and tulip that glistened as if it was planted with stardust. They lived in harmony and together sounded like a symphony of love that could have only be written in the eternal realm of time. Each night, the sunflower bowed it’s head to kiss the petals of the tulip which flickered in excitement. When the night finally covered us with its ineffable beauty, we idolized the two flowers, mimicking a gesture so profound that our hearts could not grasp its depth. And you whispered into my soft, sensitive ears sweet words which pampered my heart and exploded every doubt and fear ever harbored in the corners of my mind. “I’m your sunflower and you are my tulip.” When my heart feels empty as it withers in times of drought, you are the tulip that revives me with love and passion my mind can't even begin to fathom.