I feel trapped in a painting, unable to wiggle

even a little.

It happened when I lost my identity two days ago

after never listening to myself and my own desires.

Always bending to others' persuasion

always soaking in everything like a sponge.

Then a stranger entered into my body.

My eyes has no fire, my face is colorless,

my hands remain motionless,

my heart swings to a stop,

and I am always looking

in that direction.

Call me mad if you wish, but life's events ebb in and ebb out,

never affecting me

trapped in that still

pose

and always wearing that expression of boredom

and vacancy.

I long to go to the outside world,

where Mother's homemade apricot pies await me.

Where there's the constant struggle of school, work, and relationships.

Where I can be drunk in the perfume of wisterias and lilies.

Where I can actually appreciate art from an outsider's perspective.

Where I can at least make faces and not stare dumbly into space,

waiting

for others to interpret my feelings.

Clank!

Now I am being shipped off to another place...

A laundry room perhaps?

Or a patio?

Or a bathroom?

Or a dentist's office?

Or another garage?

Or worse...a closet?

Either way, I am still

trapped.

Weaving through the darkness

Of the garden

Bumping against the toolshed

Certain memories

Knot odiously around the

Bare lining of my slippers

A doll by the kitchen sink

Hangs

By its thread

Choking a vase of sunflowers

As they feel the wall

Laboriously climbing

Breathing

Walking barefoot through the forest

Pine needles impale the soles of my feet

Stumbling across the field of grass

Where we used to read aloud from mud-stained notebooks

Watching the waves appear as the dancing hem of a white dress

I pour out sand and starfish from my shoes

We let the rain scar our faces

We let the lightning burn our souls

Sitting on the steps overlooking the running track

I use a stone to write to her

Walking in the subway tunnels

I watch the wall's paint peel off like scabs from an old wound

Moth-fed light blinks and closes

At night I lie down in bed

Writing in my notebook

Burning the pages with my tears

Running through the forest

the beach

the grass

the track

the subway tunnels

Finding the other me

across from the tracks

"Then Gideon said to God, 'Please don’t be angry with me, but let me make one more request. Let me use the fleece for one more test. This time let the fleece remain dry while the ground around it is wet with dew (Judges 6:39 NLT).'"

Gideon is a very relatable person to me. Like Gideon, I don't consider myself strong, and I often like getting reassurance before jumping into something. My confidence has improved over the years, but I still stumble often. Thankfully, God enjoys working through people like me that need a boost, and that is something I truly enjoy about my walk with Him. Thank You Lord for using Gideon, and this opportunity to study his story. Please also use me as well, and please help me to remember that I can be confident as long as I trust You and Your plan for me. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.

God exists because it is impossible to believe how else life could have appeared on this planet. There has to be a God to create this Universe, and the fact that life has emerged on earth, even though it is very unlikely, is proof of that.

So all our existence has a meaning, even if it is ungraspable.

The Bible states that we are the result of a divine influence. Those who think that the Holy Book is written by men to justify their made-up beliefs do not take into account that, amongst other surprising facts, the Book incorporates some very accurate predictions.

Oh The Beautiful Light There is

Which Shines Everyday When I Wake.

Oh The Beauty And Brightness That Covers Me.

When i know i am alive and which i remember with every step that i take.

Oh The Luminosity And Peace I See.

Which fills my heart and brightens my day as it goes.

© Alipoetry, All Rights Reserved.

The only word that I can utter,

with the smallest strength that I can muster,

is a simple one word prayer,

A pool that’s deep but just one layer:

“Help”

And you know what it means,

You know my heart and all it’s seen,

You’ve been with me in darker places,

And you’ve shown yourself in strangers’ faces.

I won’t give up on faith in you,

So that includes my marriage, too.

What you have joined let none undo!

Protect us in the fire, too.

Bring us safely walking through,

Trusting with our eyes on you.

This prayers done much to settle my heart,

I’ve come such a long way from the start,

my pool doesn’t seem quite so deep,

And the mountain I’m climbing, not as steep.

So I guess my final prayer now,

before I stop this ranting on,

Is for a restful sleep somehow,

And hope to carry me to dawn.

The snow drifts down like angels

While people sleep in their cozy beds

Somewhere, a dog barks

Its howl is carried by

The angry wind

And then dies down

When the wind suffocates it

Angels continue to descend from the sky

And form mounds shaped like whipped cream

The black elms tower in the sky

With white frosting on their bare arms

In the distance,

Some cars moan about the stress

Of navigating in this “storm”

No,

It is much more tranquil and beautiful

Than a storm

It is greetings from winter

Tonight the stars wink at each other

While the ocean rolls around

Restless and waiting for

Something dramatic to happen

Above the blue-gray waters

Sits a grandmotherly moon, casting her light

On the ocean and the line of trees far away

Suddenly clouds chase each other

The sky darkens to a charcoal gray

And the waves swell agitatedly

Thunder growls, calling for rain to come

Flashes of lightning decorate the sky

While the pouring rain

Half-drowns the island

Soon the rain turns to a drizzle

The sea finally calms down

And somewhere above

The moonlight creates a rainbow

I found them for the first time in my own backyard

They looked like slovenly-dressed dance models

Their white, puffy heads were what attracted me

“If you make a wish and blow the dandelion’s seeds, the wish will come true,” a friend had once told me.

So, I grabbed all of the dance models, just to satisfy my childhood greed, and

made seven wishes

The magical wishes weren’t grand but they did capture my need for intelligence and influence.

After committing such a praiseworthy deed,

I came back to the dandelions day after day

I loved them so much that I buried them inside of my heart

I even imagined them as my “lovely dolls,” thinking how they would appear if they were dressed in lavish clothing.

One day, the friend came to visit me and I excitedly invited her to look at my treasures that waited,

Sticking their necks out and peering at us

And I was so afraid that their pretty necks would break

But, my “friend” said contemptuously, “Who plays with these? Dandelions are not magic. Get rid of them.”

Inside, a part of my soul, my childhood desires deserted me

Yet, I looked at the dandelions, swaying in the wind and it was as if my heart was swayed in the same rhythm

I couldn’t part with them, not yet.

But I kept that part a secret.

Your breath in my soul

This empty vessel made whole

A figure completed by the work of your hands

The heavens rejoice as you lifted your voice and declared in your image that you would make man

The potter then crafted

A rough shape was drafted

And with your own breath you brought life to my soul

This once empty vessel now holding so dearly by the passion of Christ

Debt paid for my soul

I’m breathing you daily

I see my own role

A creator and worshiper

Yet you’re lord of my soul

Once broken made whole

From dust we were crafted

And into this weave you’ve so perfectly drafted