I Stand

I stand
I stand up, with a straight back
And strong arms

My knees, tired of kneeling
My hands, tired of wringing
My eyes, tired of crying

Instead of giving up
I decide to give in
And fall down flat
So I can meet myself
Face to face

I stand
I stand up now, with a straight back
My arms, strong
Strength that came
From deep in space
Pulled into me from
a pleading place

No one can stop me now
I stand
I stand now for myself, for my children
For my friends, for my family
I stand

The Wall

A pile of bricks lay scattered
around me
Some broken in half
Others with straight, smooth sides
A few just slightly cracked

I look for the one that
looks as if it will
withstand hurricane-sized winds
And set it down in front of me.

To my left is a very small bucket full
of muddy liquid.
To my right, a brush, exactly the right size for
my small hand.
I cover the top of the brick with the wet sludge
while I look for the next brick.
I press them together and wait.
When I am sure they are joined,
I find two more, and repeat my actions.

Four small bricks now lay at my feet.
But somehow, they turn into forty, then four hundred.

I blink, and I find myself surrounded by a
structure so sturdy that I am certain
no army can get through it.

Then, I lay down on my soft sheets.
And sigh with relief.

I had to build a wall for myself.
The bricks were provided.
All I had to do was glue them together.

Sounds

How can sounds reach
inside of me
And change  me?
They can strum my sadness away
by pushing it out of me.
Sounds can lift me into a new place
where the sun is shining
while the storm surrounds me.

I sing when I feel like
crying.
My throat loosens
like the guitar strings
under the fretboard.
Could it be that the sadness
mixed with the joy
creates a perfect harmony
That otherwise would seem
bland, tasteless, without appeal?

I listen to the sounds
and a comfort pours out over me.
The predictability of repeating rhythms,
slows the cadence of my own heartbeat.
Like a lullaby for a baby,
My interior trembling settles down
and I finally am able to breath
as if I am on a quiet, calm lake.

The sounds carried me
there.

The Pressure

The pressure grows, externally.
while internally, I begin to shrink into a corner of myself.
As I crouch on my knees, my face pressing
into my skin
I beg for divine wisdom. And I breathe.
And cry.
I ask all the questions that I know are pointless to ask.
But I ask anyway.
Why? How much longer? When will it end?

The flow doesn't stop pressing down. Like a flood,
my own fears consume me, and I nearly drown.
My heart races, beating so fiercily that I think my chest will
explode.
My hands get hot. A pounding in my head, similar to
that of the blades of a helicopter hitting the side of a building, won't let up.
Am I standing too close? Is it that simple?
I stand up and take a few steps backwards.
Only slightly tripping on my own feet.

Down to my knees I fall again.
I must release it. The search for an answer.
Sometimes there isn't one.
That is when I must just trust the outcome
to God.

I tell myself that He is watching all of this.
I tell myself that He will work it all out.
But part of me doubts this.
So I say it to myself again, and again, and again.
Till six am.

Sleep finally overtakes me. At last.
I can rest.
I don't have to have all the answers.
And I know its okay to keep asking questions.