Published Poetry

Remember this? The writing competition I entered my poem into? Well I didn't win but they still decided to use my poem for a new writing website. So check it out at the link below!

http://www.everydaymormonwriter.com/work/jars/

"I Was Just Thinking"

I was just thinking, that some times it's good to know that someone else can put to words the feelings that I cannot seem to express.

I was just thinking that it's comforting to know I am not the only one out there wandering down this road.

I was just thinking that I needn't even relate completely to the story they are telling, it's more of just that emotional connection created in listening to them talk or sing that screams out "Hey, me too!"

*New found music love

Breath of Night

Have you ever stepped outside for a moment or two in the late hours of the night, stood in the middle of the road and did nothing but breathe? What greater moment can you find than this? Where you can sit down in the witching hour, breathe and just be? Where you can unwind the stress and cares of a world that is aching for a better tomorrow? Life halts for those few short hours in the dead of night when almost every soul has collapsed into their beds of weariness. Begging for a moment’s rest from the burdens and woes of life.

If you ever find yourself awake in those sleepy hours go step outside. Watch the air pulse with the throbbing sensation that there is more to that dismal street than eerie shadows and frightening noises.

Breathe the cold air that enters in chill as nightmares

But escapes from your cracking lips white as mist

Your head feels heavy upon your shoulders, your neck groaning from its weight

Your legs ache to keep moving but stand

Stand still and breathe

Breathe in the pain of yesterday

Deep and hollow in your gut

As the air moans with the hush of slumber

Black noise quakes about your aching limbs

My chest has not felt this full

But it is not full of love and yearning

It is full of being

Full of life and needing

Waiting for that unexpected burst of letting go

Of remission

Of submission

Of power, the desire to move on to start anew

Of courage, to believe in yourself and trust those you love

Step out of yourself

Step out of that carcass that stands there in the street

Fading away into the depths of the universe

Watch it crumble into the corners of blackness

Resolve to let go of the day

And embrace the first breath of tomorrow

Fall in love with the night

And the morning it promises

Me

I enjoy. I do. I try. I mess up. I fess up. I stutter. I fix. I mend. I bend. I push. I shove. I give. I forget. I remember. I cry. I smile. I fester. I forgive. I ask. I ponder. I wonder. I pray. I beg. I move. I wait. I sit. I fall. I crawl. I kneel. I stand. I run. I whisper. I kiss. I hug. I live. I love. I write.

Inadequate

Inadequate: not adequate or sufficient; inept or unsuitable; defective, imperfect, incomplete.

Which could describe me better at a time like this?

My shortcomings have grown larger and larger it seems in the last few months, or maybe I'm finally willing to face them. Faults of my own that I use to brush off my shoulder have become constant nags.

Looking in a mirror is almost frightening for I find myself scraping away into my own soul, tearing apart the layers of decay and molding filth of habits too old and wreckless to hold on to. Brazened ideals and worshipped dreams have found their glory rusted and tarnished in the caverns of my mind. Things that I prayed and wished for so desperately have been re-examined, sliced open with a piercing gaze and wounding knife that holds no mercy towards frivolity and must-haves that now seem so childish and naive.

Corners that were once filled with the pulsing stars of heaven upon which I wished so oft have been swept cleaned and I find my closets empty. Imperfection crawls in with her spindly legs and spins a web of festering defectiveness. My thoughts are sucked in and wrapped away in her sticky threads, overpowered by worries that prick into my skin and soak into my bones.

Ripping myself out of the sludge of Doubt's web is always so much harder than I remember. Her unwelcome thoughts scratch their way into my head and prick at the fragile hopes I hold on to. With my back turned, Fear moves in and I find myself racing down this tunnel of suffocating darkness. Racing past Fear and her stabbing claws, searching for light, any light, to reach out to me and help me out of the decaying rut I've placed myself in.

But tonight I washed away those charred words that have been branded on my soul. I scraped away at the still smoldering pain that so many have burned into my heart. I scrubbed and scratched away at the dead flesh until I stood in a puddle of gray and my skin glowed pink with redemption. Then, in the wake of my personal restitution, I opened up my still blistering heart and released the ghosts that have shackled me to the nightmares of doubt and fear, and there, I found the beauty that is me.

Incomplete, but wholly me...which is enough.

Pillows

I sleep with a pillow next to me.

When I was much younger I did it to save me from the crocodiles under my bed.

When I was just a little bit younger I did it to protect me from ring wraiths under my bed and in the darkness.

When I was younger I did it out of habit and in hopes of not falling off a bed on cinder blocks.

Now, I do it out of the need and desire to have something close to me while I sleep. Out of the need to hold on to something real in a place so full of intangible dreams and goals that only condole for a moment. I do it to protect me from the nightmares that still come despite being 24 years old.

To comfort me in moments of homesickness when I miss snuggling little sisters and nieces.

To abate the sleeplessness that comes from sorrow and heartache.

To keep me from just not being alone for a few short hours when I put my defenses down and allow myself to rest from trying so hard to stay strong.