last night

destiniesramblings:

after carpet suckles my knees
for five minutes
i realize i do not have words to pray—
someone advised just say Jesus
but what if i’m afraid
when i say His name
every demon inside me will bust flesh
like budding flowers leaving root around my ribcage,
me open and eyes exposed to the blackness I let cement my heart—
simply put, i have been my own god—a bad god.
when i prayed to myself,
ears clogged to my needs with dead, mahogany lusts—
i try to swab the blockage away
but only push the filth farther in
and these scales and planks
in the shape of everything
i have stacked above Him
keep my tongue wet.
no fingers dipped in clay can remove these blinders
driven into my eyes like pyramids

8 minutes now—the ground swaddles leg and knee
without a word upward.
silence
convinces me to give up and go my own way
and about the 9th minute?…9th…9th…hour
i cry out with a loud voice, saying,
“Eli, Eli lama sabachthani”
that is to say
My God, My God why hast thou forsaken me?

but who has forsaken whom?
the girl-god spine-cracked into submission—
herself
El above
Eli, Eli lama sabachthani she repeats
My God, My God…
i am earth
You are God, above—The God
come, comet crumbed chest
destroying root and branch
bludgeoning my cove
a hole large enough to carry You
a planned falling out
passionless to where the pieces land
knowing they will be wholly replaced
by the holy God.
Amen.

to cover, or to original?

I posed a question some months ago asking if it was easier to cover a song or to sing your own song. To answer my own question:

In general, it’s easier for me to sing my own songs. Why? Because, I know all of the nuances of my own work, I can change it however I want without it being compared to the “original,” or anyone else who’s sang ti. It’ll also be written in a key I’m comfortable in and won’t have to change or work through. 

With that said, I’m working on some original stuff right now. I have so much to sift through and edit, and I can’t wait to share it!

Can I name 5 things I like about myself?

destiniesramblings:

Let’s see…

I like my smile—my genuine smile, not those trying-to-be-cute things I sometimes do on pictures, or the ones where I’m trying not to smile too hard so my eyes don’t close. I like this smile, the squinty smile, messed up eyebrows and all (I infected myself with the smiling bug! lol):

image

Hmmm, next I like my legs. They’re pretty awesome, if you don’t know 😉

I like my heart. Its a good one. It’s a hurting one—a fragile one—despite the hard facade it’s wrapped in. It’s beating inside the most loyal friend you’ll ever have—even in death.

I like my eyes—their expression. Every emotion I have is translated through my lids, lens, retinas, pupils, and corneas and all the other parts I can’t name.

Lastly, I like my veins. I like looking at them. I don’t know why, though. Maybe it’s because all my life is in those tiny, blueish tubes. Maybe its because the Blood will never lose its power. Along those same lines, I like my hands. They’re kinda kiddie, but sometimes they do things on the guitar I don’t expect them to

image

That’s six, but can you name 5 things you like about yourself?

Can I name 5 things I like about myself?

and, etc.

Jesus is my homie.

No, more.

Jesus is my savior and healer and I am a friend of God. I speak with Him every day, but not as I should. And I feel, and I feel

so low I cannot be bothered to give Him even thirty minutes of my day,

at times. He gives me everything, even the things I only think I want. And my God is awesome and everywhere, and I experience Him in everything, and I feel and I know He is more than just a belief. He is knowing. Knowing I am just a spot in the universe, but His special creation–imaged after Him. And I and every person are the most important thing to Him,

individually.

Human cannot understand the the infinity, and larger than the largest thing man can make power, of His love. I am finite, He is not. I do not know where He came from, but I know I come from Him. And I’ve watched and listened to people conflate Him and defile His name, while saying nothing, like I don’t know Him, like I’ve forgotten Him–again. But He forgives me…

He forgives me.

He is

He is good.

prayed for

This week at church we’re having a youth week of prayer. As a part of that, tonight our leader asked for an older adult and a young person to pair off, and the older person was to pray for the younger. It’s a wonderful thing to be prayed for by an older person–a wiser person person in general. My person has one of the warmest, deliberate voices I’ve ever heard, and her hands were so soft as they wrapped themselves around mine. I can still smell her perfume between my fingers. 

To hear someone ask God to bless you and keep you safe, and guide you and show you what to do, is an awesome feeling. I don’t think we pray for each other enough though. Do we know how to pray for others? I once had a friend who said she felt so inadequate while she was doing her nightly prayers. She felt that there were so many things and people to pray for, that she could never get them all in, so after a while of praying, she’d just say, “You know the rest." 

I agree that sometimes it seems like the prayer list can seem so long. You have to pray for all the stuff going on in your life, and all the stuff going on in others’ lives who have asked you to pray for them, and even those who haven’t asked. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen asleep during my own prayers before. But why does prayer seem so tedious sometimes? We should feel privileged to come before the Creator of the universe and everything in it, who has allowed us to come before Him with boldness, but we waste it sometimes. 

So I guess my final question is: how can we get past ourselves to pray?