Golgatha

        Pure flesh,
life-sustaining breath,
       scarlet liquid,
ring of thorns adorned;
     Selfless love proclaiming,
"Forgive them - I am here!"
    Angry lights flash,
mighty claps roar high above;
    a mother's tears
                   ring out,
    a Father's body shakes -
       He's scorned His Son,
       A Son
                  dying
          for His Beloved
                                   Bride.

The Unrelenting Memory....

This particular post is yet another one that is very personal.  The poem within was excruciating to write and I've struggled with posting it here, publicly, ever since I finished writing it.  And, after a lot of inner debating, I've decided to share it with you all. 

I know there are millions of women who've dealt with this very thing and I know how hard it is to shed light on it, but I know that as I've talked about it more and more, I've learned how to handle the pain differently.  I've realized that it's nothing to be ashamed of and, thank God, I've found a man who loves me despite what's happened.  He sees me no differently than if it hadn't happened at all and that is something I'll always hold onto when I'm fighting back the thoughts that "I'm not worth it," and "it was my fault," etc.

(Wow, I did NOT take into account how difficult writing the rest of this post would be....my hands are so shaky right now....lol.)

Ladies, let me tell you something:  There is NO MAN on EARTH who can make you feel worthless, inferior, ugly, 'not the right size or body shape,' or anything else - they can try all they like, but the real reason they succeed is because WE LET THEM.  I am not the best example of following this, but it's something I work very hard to do everyday, but (in reference to my very first post on this blog) if we take the time, daily, to look in the mirror and tell ourselves that we're beautiful, loved, and worth every second we have life.
I struggle with this as well, but God didn't and DOESN'T make mistakes.

So....I'll let y'all get on with the rest of the post now.  I'm sure more on this topic will come in the future, but for now; enjoy.  

And, without further ado....

What Should Have Happened That Night....

'His eyes...I fear they're speaking me into silence,' she thought.

The white-washed walls dripping with paint impersonating fresh blood,

the eerie bay window breathing loudly into the large dining hall,

and the waxed tears falling from a thousand touchable stars.

"Silence cannot be spoken, yet with the eyes it can be known," he mused aloud.

At once, her mouth shut.

A baby fly buzzed away, having narrowly escaped being trapped behind the woman’s lips.

Like a frozen body of water cracking under the pressure of below zero temperatures, his heart was nothing more than a chunk of splintered ice.

His eyes spit silence while his hands ran down her body.

"You want to protest, yes?" he said.

She nodded.

Her screams of silent objection reached no one, but she flailed and kicked.

He collapsed and, helpless to grab her again, writhed upon the cold black marble floor as she turned and ran away.

The topic should be rather clear to my readers, however, if you'd like clarification, you need only to ask and I will reply as best as I can.  Anyone may post a comment directly on the post itself or, for more personal questions or whatnot, please feel free to email me at: lk4music@gmail.com.

Vulnerability

It's not something I've shared with many people, but I've been seeing a counselor and she gave me homework after our second session together.  She asked me to write about vulnerability and how it made me feel, what I thought about it, and everything in-between.
At first, I thought she was nuts and so I skipped it.  (It helped that I legitimately forgot about it, though.)  However, after the third session she assigned me the same homework assignment from the week before as well as another one.

Today I met with her again and this time, I had both of the assignments finished and ready for her.  I wasn't happy about doing the first one, but I did.  It took me about eight minutes to write about vulnerability and the inspiration, believe it or not, hatched from my hate of it.  Ironically...

As much as I hate the way it makes me feel, I have to admit that it wasn't all that bad to write about it.  Maybe it will help someone else have the courage to open up and write about it themselves or, at least, maybe some who will read this will be able to relate to what I've written.  Anywho, it's worth a shot, right?  Here goes.... 

Vulnerability

It is everything I hate,
but all that I long for.

It is the feeling I despise,
but the one that I desire.

It is everything worth loathing,
but everything worth owning.

It is the part of my soul
I wish to be free
yet my fear of the destruction it can bring
binds my heart from setting it free.

The walls built up against it
are unimaginable
and
impenetrable.

It is hate,
It is love,
It is unworthy,
It is worthy,
It is longed for and desired,
It is shut out and feared.

It is life.
It is death.

It is vulnerability.

Now, I hope my readers understand - those who know me and read this, at least - that this is not an easy subject for me to speak about, let alone write about and share with you all.

With that said, helping others grow and see that they're not alone in whatever situation they may be facing is a growing (burning) passion of mine and it is because of that that I am able to share this tonight.  As uncomfortable as it may be still, I want to see the youth and young adults of this world pull away from their pain, grow stronger, find wisdom and light in their dark places, and eventually be able to help others through similar situations.

Remember: Vulnerability is what *you* make of it.  It is a haunting emotion, but it can serve a helpful purpose if it's opened to the right person at the right time.  I have never, personally, experienced the good it can bring, but I've watched a few close friends experience it/them.  I still await my chance to see good come of allowing oneself to be vulnerable, but I know that in order to have good relationships and, eventually, a good marriage, I need to begin to open up and let it behave as a good emotion instead of solely an evil one.
Try being vulnerable with your boyfriend or girlfriend or your spouse/significant other.
Try it with someone you trust and I can guarantee that it will strengthen your trust of each other - if that person is "the one."
Try to allow yourself the privilege to grow and become the woman, or man, you want to be in this life.

Until out next encounter,
Lauren

His Hazel Eyes

His dark hazel eyes
Burn red as his fingers slide
Amidst his thick black locks.


Broken from within he
Falls into a fading reality;
He gropes for air but it slips
Through his hands as he screams.


Quietly bleeding from
The swollen wounds left
Scrawled upon his back,
He lays there doubled over from
The pain he knows, yet wills to leave.


Through the waterfalls
Falling down his face
He sees his mirrored self.
A glazed over face and sunken eyes
Greet him through the reflection.


Fear overtakes him and
He crumples to his knees.
He feels like he's slowly
Dying from the pain


His tormentor heaps upon him, but
He will not break even though his
Hazel eyes are snuffed of the twinkle within.


I wrote this for a good friend of mine during a night when he called me and he was so far gone that I could barely reach him.  It was as if every word I spoke fell on rotten earth and spoiled before its roots could grab hold of the life pulsing deep within the dirt.
Nothing I said made it through to him.
I was helpless...
I watched him fall and there was nothing I could do about it.

There's only been two people I've met who can read people as well as I can, if not better, and he is one of them.  The worst part of being able to read people is seeing the hurt, feeling it, and knowing just how bad they're hurting, but not being able to fix it.
When he was going through all of this, my heart hurt so badly, but all I could do was pray and hope that was enough of a rope to yank him out of his 6-foot hole.

Eventually, it was.  That and a good listening ear and a lot of firm advice.

I don't know that he ever fully understood just how far his pain had buried him, but I can tell you that he's still trapped behind some things.  He's a stubborn man though.  He's vulnerable and makes himself open to others relatively easy, but he's stubborn and too defensive for an "outsider" to enter enough to help remove the rubble from his chest.
Now, his girlfriend just happens to be my sister and she's not as good at reading the underlying layers of people as I or a couple of his other friends are - which is unfortunate because I feel like she would be able to get through to him when the rest of us clearly cannot.

Cj, I hope you read this and I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'm always going to be your "big sister" and I will always be here for you.  You're very dear to my heart.  You are a good man and I'm grateful that my sister has you in her life and I'm glad that I get to be a part of it as well.
I love you, Cj.

Until our next encounter,
Lauren

The Way She Is

This single moonbeam that pierces the darkness, 

This distant rumor, 

Her beautiful intellect caged, 

bound by your fear of her climbing potential.

This salve used to shield your wounds, 
This silver glint trickling from her eyes, This wisdom consuming your mind in a blaze; 
Where you mask those rosy scars in black shadows, 
Where she guides ribbons of sunshine, 
fuchsia, and blood to unlock your hold. 

And still you lay, astounded, 
Drifting, In this ocean’s blurring pool of words.

The Darkness

There is a certain darkness that has surrounded me since I was in my thirteenth year of life.  It has been like a dark, distorting fog that only I've been privy to.  Only a select few of my friends can see it, but my family cannot see it at all.  Maybe it's because I hide it too well for the sake of the sanity of certain family members, but I know full well there's others in my home who carry a fog of their own, so they should be able to see mine.

The darkness comes and goes in waves.  One day, or for several days, weeks even, I can be happy and lively and then *BAM!*  I'm not okay anymore.  The waves comes crashing in and there's no stopping it.  Some of those stormy days are worse than others.  Some days bring a tsunami.  And what's worse, is there's no telling how long the darkness will stay each time it comes around.  It could be one day or several days before it leaves until the next time.

Sometimes I can see a small light in the distance, as if I'm in a tunnel of some sort, but never can I reach it.  The darkness always traps me and until that fog breaks, I'm incapable of drawing anywhere close to that tiny ball of light.  That light gives way to brighter days and leaves sleepless nights behind - it's a beacon of happiness, a bomb just waiting to explode and destroy the darkness.  There are times where the light is inches from my grasp, but something holds me back each time and I can't reach it.  But, there are also times where my fingertips just barely graze the surface of the illuminating orb and I change and feel so much better, lighter, and happier for a while.

Until the darkness envelops me once more and I retreat, again, into the darkest corner of my heart.

In this place, I find myself longing for the blood to spread along my knife once again or for the tiny flame to heat the metal before it's pressed against my skin, but no; I won't give in.  I won't let these wild desires dominate my soul.  They will not win.

I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong....

....over and over these words play in my mind.  Maybe if I say them enough, I'll begin to believe my own words.