I smell peppermint,
no doubt wafting over
from the napkin holding TollHouse
cookies & a tangelo, nestled close
together on the bedside table.
A comfortable distraction I want
reason to reach for, but there is none.
Sugar, whether natural or artificial,
dulls me down, slumps my brain
down a depressed hole. I eat,
chewchewchew, “this tastes wonderful.
What is going to happen?” I don’t worry
all for two seconds, maybe more, but
I know my soul is crying. One word,
name, my now tearing blues fell upon
moments earlier. Abba. Father.
I curled up with these words:
Therefore, there is no condemnation
for those who are in Christ Jesus.
The Spirit I received doesn’t make me a slave,
so I fear reaction from a mistake I think I made.
I was listening to melody, when I noticed
my phone light come alive urgency.
A number I didn’t recognize, requires
my mind assuming a debt collector.
Debt collectors don’t generally leave
messages asking if you would like continued
grace period, because they know you are troubled.
After six months time, you have to pay up.
No, this man asked if I would like to remain
on the wait list for a room at a school
I fear performance will rule.
I didn’t pick this one, or
the one before.
I did what
I was told.
I never thought,
“What do you think, God?”
I knew He existed,
but I didn’t know Him.
When I went to the first school,
I made a friend who looked me
straight in my sadness: He died
for you, Julia.
I wept hardest at every stoplight.
I felt trapped, repeating: why?
Why me? Why me? Why?
If He whispered love over my sobs
I didn’t hear. Slowly, He brought
other people wanting to know me.
Talk to me.
Look in my eyes.
Demonstrate love’s first name.
Bible study, I’d be asked my thoughts.
Pray? What do you say?
The layout felt paralyzing.
Still does, for me, who wants to talk
as a child: question everything.
Wonder. Share not with a huge
crowd, but one or two people,
this Son of Man’s desire for all humanity
Me. These friends, who wanted me to meet
the Author penning my whole life, let me come
undone slow. The spark becoming an ember
I ran from when fear begged me hide away.
Run, run, run! There’s schoolwork to be done!
Jesus scared, scares me. I ached abandoning
work, to sit in the glow of these smiles & never
say a word. I wanted to listen, maybe ask a question.
All those people set my nerves ablaze. Fear.
I struggled through a year of not knowing
why I was an English major, why writing anything
other than poetry, hurt, bored me. Why reading
His versed love, left me inking heart cries
other souls connected with. Why He kept, keeps
calling after me this way. Through this wilderness
I thought would lead me further astray, He finds me,
quivering, please don’t make me go back, I only want
to write you until an answer arrives. I want to write
poems, stories, dialogues, but money is short.
This is where I come alive. Yes, I want friends,
but I wish college wasn’t my only option.
Time management isn’t my forte.
But here in this plate, time, everything
leaves me free. Jesus, I don’t know
what to do. I don’t want to say yes or no.
I know faith isn’t sight. You spoke gently
when you allured Gomez out from worldly pleasures.
Speak gracious your love. lead me where your still waters
quiet my dismay.