Tuesday, May 27, 2014


These poems are a doozy, y'all. Hard and ugly. Real. It's just the muck that is in my heart and my head as I learn about mercy. And grace. Lots of hard questions, with even harder answers. It's messier than I thought it would be-- intimacy with Jesus. He wants all of me. That's scary and painful and beautiful and necessary.

 I realize you may not know my story. I hope that's okay. I hope these poems speak for themselves.


We said farewell with a whisper
My heart ardently appealing to your heart
As I chronicled before watching eyes
All the ways your hands had marred me.
How your delicate fingers
Had twisted in my flesh
The way your manicured nails punctured
My face
Wood splintered across my back
Your feet against my ribs
My shaking hands pulling glass from my scalp
My blood dripping on the floor

A mess I'd soon pay for.

"Why can't you love me?" my whisper ricocheted off the concrete walls-
You replied only with a gaze
Of hardened indifference.
And your eyes reflected the truth
That I was nothing to you
But a troublesome mistake
That your love outgrew

We said goodbye on that whisper
You exhaled and freed yourself of me
I held my breath
Breathed in your hatred
And neglect
And swallowed you down deep inside me
And on the outside I was strong
My walls neatly built
Yet on the inside
Blackness seized my sight
And I was blind
Barely breathing
Frantically swimming
Through the flood conceived
By my unshed tears.

And my soul floated in the darkness
Condemned to the shadows
Of the words your lips had sown--

I was who you said I was.
A blemish
Without worth



I’m coming undone.
My meticulously placed sutures are rupturing.
I’m afraid to expose what I’ve taken years learning to shut away.
I smell of you beneath this well formed armor.
You’re still breathing in there.
You’re eating me dry
And I want to kill you with my uncaged-
I want to reach in there and choke you the way you have choked me
I want to rip you apart
I want to hear you whimper
Beg me
Like I begged you to--
My ears are roaring
Alive with malice
All the lessons of submission
Fall away
I’m justifying myself with this hatred
Till I’m spent
And you have gorged yourself on my sin
I've mangled myself with my bitterness and deceit
Bloodied by my blindness
I know I will never kill you this way
But the rage is electrifying


Mother, you’re the orphan now.
Shut up in your three bedroom apartment-
Abandoned permanently by the offspring of your womb.
I shamefully think you deserve this.
You did this to us, to our family-- to me.
You marred the love that should have bound us together.
You marred me,
I hate you. For all the tears. And all the bothersome layers
Of hurt and filth that coat the insides of me.
I hate you--
Because there is no hurt big enough
No hole deep enough inside of me
To swallow up and bury deep
The love my heart feels,
For you.
I hate me.
I hate the softness of me-
For feeling pity
For your orphan spirit.
I hate that I long for you to know the love
That you so viciously denied me.
Mother. Mother.
It does not seem fair that I should sit here contemplating how
To share a greater love with you
You don’t deserve it--
Truthfully, neither did I.
But I was better than you, wasn’t I?
Was I?


I’m ambling toward You
Defiled and infected—repulsive
I have nothing to offer but my list of sins against your love
Your Light
I drag my hefty load of chains behind me
My sins are writhing inside me
Around me
Fighting to hold me back away from you
My body is branded with
I wasn’t better.
Downcast- I draw near
Involuntarily, I shudder at your searching gaze
You strip me bare with your loving stare
Your eyes bear witness to the self-inflicted lashes I wear
Your hands work persistently
Touching all the despicable parts of me
Stripping, scraping, pulling, breaking
Wooing every part of me back into submission
I’m weary but I must make a choice
Your love or my justice

I fall into you
I am not too much
My dirt, my shame, my fears
I am not too much for you
My scars, my confusion, my tears
Never too much
Understanding dawns
As you swaddle me gently
In your cloak of grace.


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