entry #1 Joy Comes In The Morning/Mourning
As I sat up with my knees pressed against my chest and my arms folded so tightly around my torso... I give myself a hug ...
And I wash myself with my tears ....
And as I am Planted on the floor .... I become a seed ...
Both drenched in water & son, I sit in darkness
I await the joy in the future ... morning...
I said I await the joy of the future as I’m mourning
I await the joy in my morning
I await the joy in my morning
Joy Comes in the mourning
But now the process continues...for if I don’t follow through with the process
no matter how painful, how can I receive the joy.
The painful thing that I am dreading is actually the seed that I have to produce
and grow to reap the joy
There’s no other way.
entry #2 This Place
I’m at this place
It took me years to get to this place
Took God’s grace to get to this place
It took screaming and throwing things against the wall
Angry because I didn't understand the call… to get to this place.
And it's taken many falls ….
Where my beautifully decorated Window had been broken into and everything that I had was robbed,
Leaving empty space.
Splitting my view into the world in two
Dichotomies …singing the lion and the lamb on Sunday
And screaming like Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde by late Monday
Screeching Dancing in my ear drum like
African beats…
Growing and coming alive inside of me ..
Ebbing and flowing
Back and forth
Where my once pink mesh matter turned grey
filled with clutter suffocating my space
With things that didn't matter
Feeding lies… breaking down my armor so my shield was weak and the fiery darts
Set blazed paths where truth couldn’t follow and happiness couldn’t seek.
I was arrested with the voices of life's situations and the terrors they would speak
I was driven to my knees, To get to this place
But I’m at this place …
It’s free and the pathways where light travels to
always speak peace …
I never thought that I could be this happy
Consisting of good and not of anxiety.
Accepting the very things fear told me to hide behind
I am now being authentic in my mistakes designs
Allowing the blood to scab
And within these scars lines, spelling healing,
Becoming younger & laughing at what rotted my Wooden floor with wet, warm mascara mixed water Stains, now I dance over it with joy, my own self proclaimed alter ….
My own sacrifice,
My acceptance that I am molded and can not fail with You holding my hand always leading me back,
Guiding me back to that place,
Where there is enough space for you,,
It took me years to get to this place.
Took God’s grace to get to this place. Surrender
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