the stars ~

I popped a balloon two days ago.

It wasn’t just any balloon, where pressure would release the captured air. No – it was a confetti balloon. I’m afraid I may have forgotten what happens when you pop a balloon, let alone a confetti one. Down went the pressure, and out burst hundreds of itty bitty confetti stars. It was an anger triggered move. Pressure built up and down went that pressure, onto a harmless little balloon.

The most frustrating part was the clean up. My first method was the vacuum. It seemed at first things were cleaned up. But the more I looked, the more I kept seeing. So I tried using the nozzle of the vacuum. Great – it was doing what it was supposed to do. But the more I looked, the more I kept seeing. Finally, along came a hand vacuum. It was surprising how powerful this little thing seemed to work. Huffing and puffing, I bent over and zoomed at every little star in sight. But the more I looked, the more I kept seeing. I would suck some up, then whirl around and see some more somewhere else. Then I started mopping the floor. And I’d see more stars. There I go again, zooming in on them with my evil little hand vacuum. Throwing it onto the couch after doing the subsequent sucking up of the star(s) that lay in my sight.

Believe me when I say I was trying everything in me not to physically scream “F*** YOU, AND YOU, AND YOU!” but also believe me when I say I was screaming it just as loudly in my head.

it takes a lot to get a balloon to pop.

and the clean up? the clean up is even worse.

It takes a lot to get a balloon to pop. Maybe things just seemed stuffed for so long and finally needed to come out, in some way. That’s what happens sometimes when you’re in emotional overload — whether that’s the good or the bad, or both. When you’re used to stuffing but this time you just had to apply pressure because you’ve felt the pressure of it all for too long. People pop balloons for different reasons, but they all do it. For me, the work/life balance is always a hard thing to navigate as an adult, without even the fact that you’re living it out at home. You do the things you would have done at school — all the classes, the extracurriculars, the church events. Yet your feet are implanted not at school but at home. It’s always a whirlwind in all sorts of directions. Time is a precious thing and sometimes you feel victorious and other times you just lose track. You cherish the time and the season, the God-given time it’s allowed as a family where we otherwise wouldn’t have had. At the same time, you know you could be doing better. You also miss and grieve the nature of this season. And maybe dad was right – we always have an evil self-centered creature in each of us, wanting love, care, and attention for even just the space that we take up in this place called home. I think we can all get better at giving and receiving that kind of love – knowing and not knowing how to do it well but doing it anyways. Sometimes you sadly can’t really do that well before doing the gritty work of clean up.

Now for the clean up.

The clean up is hard because it means you lost it. You made a mistake, and now you’re realizing it because you’re bent over trying to get rid of all the traces of damage your poor choice made. Maybe the action was justified — it was done out of anger — but the choice and consequences are detrimental all the same. The clean up is frustrating because it’s plain exhausting and it’s been years by now. Bending down, swooping up, thinking it’s gone but then you whirl around and you see them — again. And sometimes you just want it to be done and you hate the process of it.

This was not the first time this happened.

There have been lots of balloon popping in my life. And honestly by now, maybe I’ve conditioned myself towards it. I’ve conditioned myself that every time a balloon pops, there is a clean up. Sometimes the clean up is more thorough, other times the clean up involves a mere sweep of a broom after the initial pop.

I’ve conditioned myself. I’ve conditioned myself knowing that balloon popping probably won’t stop — not anytime soon at least. In fact, I don’t think they ever will. And I’m scared of the thought of reconditioning. So I get lazy and complacent over changing the cycle because that’s what it feels like — a cycle. Where the initial puncture of a pop would send me in a frightened startle, it’s happened so often that I’m not so sensitized by it… but also sensitized at the same time. But inaction is the same as doing nothing, and we all know how that ends.

So now we come to today. One balloon popped because of another’s balloon popped. That happens sometimes. And we’re trying to change the cycle. It’s hard and painful and not fun.

In the middle of all of this though, I remember Jesus. It all goes back to Him.

Jesus rescued every f***ing little star and loves us anyway. Unlike us, rescuing the stars was an obedience that He didn’t do from duty but of delight. He faithfully and lovingly persisted, even for the most stubborn of stars.

I read something from my friend Strahan Coleman recently that struck me as so profound — that Christ rose with wounds. It went on to say:

We can be encouraged to know that aching from the past doesn’t mean newness hasn’t come… someday our wounds will be fully healed, leaving beautiful scars that remind us of our storied lives. But until then, the presence of our wounds doesn’t negate the resurrection we’re experiencing.

– Strahan Coleman

My God my joy, my delight, my God my joy, my delight

bits n’ sweets | no. 1

you take what’s bitter and you turn it sweet, you’re singing melodies over me
so i will worship you at your feet cause you are so so good to me
– (spontaneous) – 2.8.20

changing my posts a bit to be less sentimental and more contemplative/reflective on things that have been on my mind and heart. where time to write has been more like a “limited edition” gift these days, i’ll hold the times i do get as sacred devotion. the Lord is good and He is faithful. He takes what’s bitter and turns it sweet. and i do believe that He will sometimes even use this process of recording and writing to bring about that sweet, like a sweet balm that seals the soul.


on heading into a new year – uncertainty and unknown bring us to a place of fear and doubt. when your present looms daunting and you’d rather go back to the past, the Lord tells His people, fear not; stand firm. why do you cry to me? go forward. [exodus 14:13-20]

on walking and rising – i believe; help my unbelief. but Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose. he lifts us up and we are held in his hands. because of him, we can rise from “i think he’s dead” (v. 26) to walking in hope and life.

on the love of the Father – he loves and has loved me. his love lasts forever. he chooses to be faithful to me forever. it’s a kind of love that seeks to build me and rebuild me time and time again. it’s not a love that aims to “build me up” with fluffy words or half-hearted actions. it’s a whole heart, “i died for you” kind of love. it’s a love that surpasses all knowledge – too wide and long and high and deep to fathom.

on breaking free – Jesus breaks free from tradition to break broken people free [mark 7]

on loving when it hurts – if i don’t have space to love that one, what does that say of my love and understanding of the One who had all the space in the world to love and live for?

on the secret to ministry – “the secret to ministry are bent knees, wet eyes, and a broken heart.” [antioch christian fellowship]

on being truly seen – El Roi | “i have now seen the One who sees me. have i truly seen the One who sees me?”  may i truly see, know, and love the one who truly sees, knows, and loves me. [genesis 16:13]

on resonance – in order for something to resonate, it needs a force to pull it back to its starting position and enough energy to keep it vibrating [the things you take away in physics class]

on staying close to Him – “the closer you live to Me, the safer you are. stay close to me.” [Jesus Calling]| stay close to me and shelter me.

on nearing burnout – “we often get so busy doing things for God that we forget to sharpen our axe and we grow dull.” [p. bryan]

on being content where i am –  “you would not grow how you needed if {things were different}.”

on doing ministry – may i never forget the difference of manufacturing and distributing his divine resources for kingdom and for his glory. [p. kirt]

on tuning my stale heart back to His – china facetimes, time in the city, and spontaneous reunions.

on being filled with joy anew – oh make me more like Jesus

on feeling lonely and rejected – imposter syndrome hits and swearing and cursing bring blows upon my ears that i can barely withstand. sometimes the healing comes through crying and singing to the wind.

on recalling His  goodness – 1.23 brings one year. as i sat to write that day, the spirit of heaviness lifted and the spirit of life came upon me once again. the same spirit who raised Jesus from the dead lives in you and me. [romans 8:11]

on starts and stops – grateful to God for ordering my starts and stops, even for little things like missing and catching trains.

on reaching burnout and reaching for His love again – “we are beings first, over doers.” [s.s.]
your love will not run empty, your love’s a well that will never run dry. you love will not run empty. your love grows sweeter and sweeter with time. [i am loved, maverick city]
let the heroes rest, let the striving cease. [heroes, amanda cook]

on the power of rest – “don’t work for rest, work from rest. from His delight, not for His pleasure. one of the enemy’s greatest traps is if he can’t keep our hearts burning for God, he’ll try to use ministry to burn us out. burnout happens when our doing exceeds our being.” [the power of rest, jonathan david hesler]

on steph curry and the triumphant entry – would you, oh Lord, encounter your people. those watching and waiting, searching and gazing, and walking by.

on finding Him through finding me – “Jesus’ understanding of His vocation came out of wrestling with himself, God, and the devil in the solitude of the wilderness.” [the gift of being yourself, david benner] the wrestling is hard, but necessary and needed.

on learning to fly – dumbo was created to fly. his burden, and also his gift, were his ears. sometimes, like dumbo, we lose sight of the peanut/feather/key and we don’t let ourselves fly – though we very well are able. we get bogged down, disheartened, unappreciated, incapable. it’s time to shake off the things that hold you down. i have set you free from the things that held you. i have given you wings, i have set you free – so come to me and fly, fly, fly [fly, jason upton]

on flying like eagles – God as the eagle – “he found him in a desert land, and in the howling waste of the wilderness; he encircled him, cared for him, and kept him. like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that flutters over its young, spreading out its wings, catching them, bearing them on its pinions, the LORD alone guided him” [deut. 32:10–12] “you yourselves have seen what I did…how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself” [ex. 19:4]. stirring up the nest – “…when parents do return they may thrash about removing the comforts lining the nest. bewildered, frustrated, and confused the eaglet moves, branches out of the nest, and begins to test out her wings out of desperation. frustration, hunger, and discomfort are her parents’ intention. the parents wisely know that without this disruptive environment their young will not grow, learn, and develop the essential skills for survival.” [the gospel coalition] us as the eagle – “but the woman was given two wings of a great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness to her place, where she is nourished for a time and times and half a time, from the presence of the serpent (enemy).” [rev. 12:14] eagles wings – wings are spread straight out – they are big, and they are heavy. their survival mechanism is learning to fly without needing to flap them in order to conserve energy. eagles can die if they spend too much energy flapping during flight. they learn to rely on wind thermals (holy spirit) to come up on them to soar and give them the rushing wind of energy to fly. not by might, not by power, but by My spirit. [zech. 4:6]

on running – why are you running when i have promised you rest? 

on restoring – a house inflamed and the same house untouched. and then it is lifted into the air, like the “Up” house lift. he restores anew. the fires, though they consume, they do not burn. His spirit alone lifts me and gives me life and strength.

on missing people – in the midst of the loneliness, you amazed me with small world connections joined together only by you.

rainy thoughts

today is a “sit awhile, cry a little” day. and it’s okay to feel this, even in the “crying because why am i crying” of it. i told someone recently that i miss writing about pain, and it was mainly because i hadn’t been feeling. oh how fast i’ve been running. running fast and free, yes… running with my guard up saying i’m a fighter, rise like a warrior, go Jesus go Jesus when i was also blocking myself from feeling.

it’s okay to feel this. in all of the unraveling and untangling that is being pulled up from below.

it’s okay if you can’t find the words, let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

it’s okay if you can’t catch your breath, you can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest

it’s okay. hug yourself hard. hold yourself tight. there are a million things running through your brain but a million and one things that remain true in the midst of you. 

// and when the light has faded from the skies, and you can’t see the road ahead, remember the One who paved the path. when the things and people you love and cherish tumble off the shelves and out of your reach, remember the One who’s always just a heart cry’s away. //

nothing to something

this morning as i got myself ready for church, i was discouraged. defeated. burdened. weighed down to the point of crushing.

i am crazy. what in the world am i stepping into? i can’t do it. Lord, what did you call me into?  

this morning’s church sermon was 2 Kings 4:1-7, about the woman with the jar of oil. “Your servant has nothing there at all,” she said, “except a small jar of olive oil (4:2).” she had two attitudes – i have nothing, yet i do have something. one thing my pastor said was, don’t focus on the nothing; focus on the something and use it for His glory.

so here i sit, words impressed upon my soul. recounting my nothings, but holding high my somethings to remember and use for His glory. ❤


[my nothings] 

nothing: the places of lackthe weakness, the burdens, the brokenness, the suffering.

my nothings of this year/freshman year could be listed with social anxiety, homesickness, school stress, grief, anxiety in general, loneliness, disappointment, and just the feelings that come with transitions. i can talk about the moments i felt like a lone floater, not feeling a place to belong. i can talk about school projects that amounted, bringing stress and anxiety piling high. i can talk about processing and walking through grief, and how much i was drowning in my emotions. i can talk about how my summer will be spent overseas and how i am all of a sudden fearful and doubtful and -ful.

yet i have something.

[my somethings] 

something: the places of abundance. the growth, the joy, the blessings, the fruit.

my somethings of this year/freshman year would include finding community in the midst of the wandering – sweet and special friends and relationships built and now treasured. my somethings include healing and freedom through past and current disappointments, struggles, lies, and grief. my somethings include experiencing His miraculous emotional and physical healing in a powerful way, which was followed by a very real but uncertain (howwhatwhenwherewhatextent?) call to missions. my somethings include an intentional time of feasting and fasting, feasting and discovering Him through His Word. my somethings include expanding the picture i had of God – that He is truly and absolutely ultimately good in His very nature, and that He is incredibly patient and kind to His children. this year has blessed me with so many peeks of His character, and in seeing Him, i have been able to share Him – with my roommate, my floormates,  and my church family. share Him boldly, vibrantly, courageously, undeniably. because this year i say with confidence, “how can i not?”

 

i do have something in this jar of clay. Lord, i know that you can use it. please use it. i know you can. will you? Lord, do the impossible.

we sang build my life today and oh, how fitting as i head again into wonderlust – a feeling of delight fused with awe, caused by something beautiful and unfamiliar. holy, there is no one like You. there is none besides You. open up my eyes in wonder. show me who You are and fill me with Your heart and lead me in Your love to those around me.

i may be weak, Your spirit’s strong in me. my flesh my fail, my God you never will. fill me and fuse me with delight, awe, and wonder, reminding me to look back and marvel at Your goodness and look ahead to how You will prove yourself faithful.


but we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. we are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. we always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. for we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. so then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. 2 Cor. 4:7-11

overcoming, overcome, overcame

her heart stirred violently inside of her chest
her weary hands, trying to push it all down,
all the while choosing to breath in with hope and exhale with grace.

she didn’t settle, no she reached for more —
more than just existing, more than just breathing.
she was made of cells and atoms and matter so she knew she had to matter… somehow.

finally, with each labored breath
her shaking slowed and came to a cease.
now she walked step by step,
allowing her hand to be pulled by the King’s,
making His strength her strength and living with peace.

minute by minute, moment by moment,
the battle in her soul –
that was His battle now.

and then heaven met earth with an unforeseen kiss.
she felt a push and a pull –
it was the love of the King.

she thought to herself that battle that rages, oh the battle inside –
that battle within her, it’s already been won.
for the One that is in her is far greater in power
than the monsters and demons that tease to devour.

so she takes courage in the waiting.
she knows dark comes before dawn,
and the pain she feels is a catapult to an ever greater, ever bolder
chasing of peace
though night surrounds her, the light still shines on darkest nights.

the battle that rages?
the battle is her victory.

she’s an overcomer. 

yes she is, yes she is, yes she is.
it’s what’s painted across, etched into, and engraved on her soul.

i’m an overcomer. i’m an overcomer. i’m an overcomer…
i’m overcoming. i’ve overcome. i’ve overcame. 


peace, bring it all to peace, the storms surrounding me. let them break at Your name.

(anxiety attacks are hard and painful and awful but hey, i’m an overcomer and this poem just sort of came from that high tide/low tide and i just sort of had to get it out, you know?)

slipping by | pt. 8

dear august —

i. our love for each other broke loose as we ventured into greater depths and allowed ourselves to look into into the heart of the other.

ii. he whines and drags his feet, sending her voice to rise and fall with increasing intensity, then snap. and there i sit, bending to accommodate, but whispers cloud my brain. missing out; disregarded; alone; not special anyway. turmoil boils within me. should i have gone? i will never know.

ii. anxiety rose and despair bubbled from within me. things that ought to have been were no longer there. and yet that thought pops up – practice faith instead of projecting with fear – and gives me peace of mind. when disappointments and stress abound, you were my comfort.

ii. she is upset with me. i did it out of love, but i feel she didn’t feel it in return. oh, to think that there will be a time when i will no longer be your mate as i have been all these years. let’s make these times count, dear. i’m sorry.

iii. living a love does life requires daily surrender and conscious effort. thanks for showing me how i need to make love an action verb and not just a state of being.

iii. i feel bleh now that my heart is stable. now i’m not okay with being okay. and life moves on…

v. in the midst of lows and discouragement, you gave me words to say. you put a song in my mouth. you planted seeds of truth that just kept on flowing. and it felt beautiful… and oh, so freeing to be a vessel of assurance. it was not i, but him. keep speaking truth…

v. he answered the bonus question on that quiz and my heart gave way. disappointment. pain. rejection. i’m sorrys won’t make things better… not right here, not right now. why did i allow myself to be hurt in this way. i’m not comfortable with who i am anymore…

v. i wish i could have had a moment to look you in the eye, hold you tight like that time just a few weeks ago, and say how much i would miss you. words don’t suffice. and you knew that. your texts… you showed me you really cared about exactly how i felt. i am thankful for honest exchanges in the midst of bumps and feeling like hell, and when people are being a baka. you’re there. i care. i think you’re just fine. you’re not unloved. i love you and you’re not alone cause i’m here still. those words are my security… even in the midst of the heartache.

vi. the quaking of my heart broke loose as every lie was met face to face with the voice of truth. i sat there, elements in hand, and tears clouded my eyes. you give life, you are love, you bring light to the darkness, you give hope, you restore very heart that is broken…

vii. you can’t walk right; you’re turning in. crooked; like a pigeon… it’s actually cute. no, i know it isn’t. don’t make it sound like it is. but thanks for those gentle reminders of beautiful imagery that comes with crooked feet.

viii. my heart stopped again. i seem to be prone to heart attacks lately, i must say. your questions – they are insensitive. your words – condescending. only when i snap, do you offer some uplifting words. and the comment i utter in return – simple, yet beautiful and profound. when you’re in the deepest pain you learn to treasure even the slightest joyful moments.

viii. you are my rock. with you i will not be shaken. you are so cool and your timing is incredible.

viii. he wanted a facetime and of course i couldn’t say no. and when he told me why, i nearly burst into tears. dang, warm sensations swelled in me. not because of what we had done, but what he did. trust is lovely, when not harmed. he makes beautiful things out of us…

ix. you are a world changer. don’t let anyone or anything come between you and your purpose… oh, my soul. thank you for your heart and your random email. you spoke into me exactly what i need to hear.

ix. i won’t begin to try to imagine what you are going through, hon. but i can see it in your eyes… not just the physical pain but also your heart. i want to get through to you… but all i’ll say for now is that i’m sorry and i love you… through it all, my eyes are on You – it is well with me. yes – it is well with my soul.

x. late night hazy thoughts brought uneasy convictions. what’s been done can’t be undone… i need love to cover the shame and regret.

xi. juggling between surface-level inclusion and real, deep community is oh so hard.

xi. when you pass through the waters, i will be with you. when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you… grateful for beautiful melodies hemmed by equally beautiful souls.

xiii. memories came flooding back. i will build my life upon your love… i will not be shakenshe walked up… and i did too. and the spirit of God came down. yet she turned around with dumbfounded shock… why?

xiv. all of a sudden i feel like skipping and leaping like Motel Kamzoil – wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles. shout it, go on and scream it from the mountains… that he is God.

xiv. prophetic words – grace upon grace. fresh pouring out of anointing oil, running over my face. art… and a wide and beautiful canvas. relationships too… and peace instead of anxiety. as she said those words, my eyes met hers and gazed deep within. thank you, my angel.

xv. thank you for lunch dates with my fellow twin. her discerning spirit encourages me to come into the light. and he shares his own moments of darkness, assuring me that i’m not alone. grateful for heart-to-hearts.

xv. laughing till tears roll down our cheeks… three hours of catching up and adding bits and pieces does a soul much good. celebrate good times, come on.

xvi. soak in God’s grace… grace, crashing over me. crashing over and over and over…

xvii. demons run and flee, at the mention of your name, King of majesty. wow, God. a force was great upon my chest, i could hardly breathe; my limbs felt numb, and then panic had stricken me. i didn’t know what to make of it. there are still so many questions. but she said, there is no reason to be scared. God’s not scared. my eyes are open now. i do believe.

xvii. disappointments and blame pained my spirit as things didn’t happen the way i had hoped. clinging to the promise of redemption despite seemingly missed opportunities.

xvii. he asked if he could vent and my heart broke for him. suddenly his insensitivities didn’t matter anymore because now i knew his story.

xviii. you called my name and i ran out of that grave. yet i came home and it seemed like i was buried deep again. he is sneaky. but i must stay strong. keep singing that fight song.

xviii. she said she would see him that day and something in me begged to break off the falsehood. no, dear… something happened and all i feel is love. not the kind of love that is infatuated and mushy with feelings, but the kind of love we were meant to have for each and every human soul.

xix-xxiii. prone to wander Lord i feel it, prone to leave the God i love… in the storm we conquer, we fight. we raise our banner high, for we know that He who promised is faithful.

xxi. frustrations abound. what do i do and how.

xxii. taking time to exchange lies and replace them with goodness and truth. i am deeply and immeasurably loved…

xxiii. i’m breathing in your grace, i’m breathing out your praise… forever my heart will sing

xxiv. thank you for the joy of realizing the correct day of the week… it made my heart so happy.

xxiv. he has drifted. gone absent. being sad about the thought is rather an understatement. or am i taking things too personally with my head wrapped in fantasies?

xxiv. hand in hand we walk together. the air is fresh, the talk is pleasant.

xxv. texts pop in and i grow bitter. in pain there is a purpose, in hurt there is a hope… 

xxvi. oh how my heart rejoiced when what was lost is now found. the impossible can always be made possible.

xxvii-xxx. i’m not sure what to do anymore… and honestly, i don’t know if i want to do anymore.

xxxi. panic gripped me by the neck, shook me back and forth, sent me flying. someone said it, and it shot a million triggers in my already crazy brain. i am sinking down in a sea of whys…

xxxi. thankful for three-hour long concerts in the comfort of our home. for the cause of Houston, but more like the comfort for my heart and soul.  in the middle of the storm, you are in control. in the middle of the war, you guard my soul. you alone are the anchor, when my sails are torn… your love surrounds me in the eye of the storm.


there are days when clouds surround us, and the rain begins to fall, the cold and lonely winds won’t cease to blow. and there seems to be no reason for the suffering we feel; we are tempted to believe God does not know. when the storms arise, don’t forget we live by faith and not by sight… bow the knee.
wow thanks for an eventful month. for testing and refining through the fire. for drawing me closer to yourself into intimacy with you.
matt. 11.28_30 / gen. 50.20_21 / john 14.27 / ps. 37.7 / is. 54.10 / ps. 147.14_16 / matt. 7.24_27 / 1 peter 1.6_7 / is. 42_16 / ps. 27.13_14 /  is. 40_29 / ps. 23.1_6

no longer wanna-be

fake it till you make it yell “those” kids
that’s what they all say
maybe that’s how they made it up there

am i right?

i try, try, try
to be someone that i’m not
i’m an oughtta-be, wanna-be, gotta-be
the cycles of strife surge me on

i’m a workaholic, control freak, and perfectionist… to the T

i want to win, win, win
get up on top, feel good about ma self
i find myself bending down
bending myself to win the hearts of people
bending myself to win a little more love

bending myself to win just a little more approval and just a few more scraps of acceptance

but i fail, fail, fail
when i try

to win

maybe instead i should try to be
a serve-aholic instead of a workaholic
and let someone else be in control of me
maybe instead i should
turn to the cross of perfection — at the only true perfectionist

instead of making one out of me

what if instead i embraced myself
for who i am, and for who i will always be —
beloved, for all eternity. 

don’t fake it, honey

you think i can’t tell
but darling…

i can.

you are worth more than rubies

you, precious, never go out of style

won’t you look into my eyes
just remember

baby, you are priceless.

like a ring of solid gold
a smooth and flawless pearl
drawn out from down, down down

refined and raised above all else

don’t bend down, for i have drawn you up
out of deep waters i have pulled you,

calling your precious name

all the voices in your mind
that make you weak inside
don’t belong —
don’t belong
in a place
as beautiful
as you.

words fail me

the shadow of the pen falls
the pen touches the paper

as ink flows out.

words.
an indescribable expression.
something so concrete,

yet abstract.

a shadow clouds my mind as a thought enters.

thoughts. feelings. emotions.

words.
a multitude of ramblings,

so jumbled in my brain.

suffocating.
sinking.
feeling.

still breathing.

 

words.
the ability to:
enlighten your soul
make your cheeks red
get your hands all clammy

mouth– all of a sudden mute.

words.
they pack a punch
they skip a beat
they put a smile on a face

they break one’s heart

words are power.

try as i might,

words fail me

there have been times
when ink did not flow
and thoughts just could not

flow. out.

i say to myself,
“how can this be?
words, please come to me!”
yet they remained–

stuck. inside.

what am i to do?

words.
the indescribable expression.
buried in the uttermost parts of my heart

trapped. within.