I know how
To fake a smile.
Been a long time since I didn’t,
Unless something funny happened, but
I know how
To fight my tears,
To go numb like no one’s home,
My emotion so far gone
That I don’t know how to feel something
Even if I wanted to.
I know how to carry my burdens alone
In circles until my feet sink,
So that when I take my tender hands away,
The burdens are trapped in the dirt so I can just
Dig them up later when
The depression arrives with a friendly,
“Guess who’s back!”
And buries me instead of them…
Today, I laid myself to rest.
It was a small affair.
No jewelry glittered on my chest,
No flowers littered in my hair.
I floated, watched my body there,
Lowered in the grave.
I mourned the loss of who I was,
That girl I couldn’t save.
My lips cracked from the lack of blood.
I died to love, of thirst,
But flying colors broke the sky.
My shriveled heart had burst.
I faded like a curled black spider,
The part of me that died.
I’ll never be that girl again,
Now that she’s alive.
These hands may seem pretty soft.
But these soft hands have done a lot of cleaning
Other people’s messes.
These hands have done a lot of wiping tears away from cheeks.
They have carried a lot of baggage,
Some self-inflicted, others thrown into them unwanted.
These hands have handled little ones.
They’ve put people back together,
And lifted people up.
They have written many words.
These hands build, create, help, and love.
They are the hands of a daughter, a friend, a sister, a mother, a writer.
They are my hands.
And they are stronger than you think.
Just a peek here and there.
And a sideways look,
But then their eyes met.
It was an accident.
Just a smile with sparkling eyes,
But then a secret joke
Growing into conversation.
Just the fingertips
And then a muttered apology,
But he knew he was going to touch her hand
Before he did.
A touch over a copy machine jam,
A borrowed pen,
A dropped sticky note
A knee to a knee in a meeting,
Each feigning no notice.
A long-awaited kiss
In a random elevator
When someone walked in who didn’t…
Because I am a Christian, I have mostly avoided Stephen King novels, but because I also consider myself a reader and a writer, I felt I needed to read something written by such a prolific novelist. I wasn’t disappointed.
I read The Green Mile. Yes, there was some language and the usual vulgarity, but it was a very good book. I enjoyed reading it, and even there I noticed a certain spirituality. There is forgiveness, self-sacrificing, and many good life lessons in that novel, but this review isn’t about that novel.
When I saw advertisements for the movie The Dark…
He stands here,
And she stands there.
A regular businessman,
Suit and tie,
Shining black shoes,
Waiting for the white, walking person
To replace the orange hand.
Waiting for the orange hand
To replace the white, walking person,
Sky high nude heels
A blouse and a pencil skirt —
A regular businesswoman.
They can look at the flat, bold lines
That pattern the asphalt between the toes
Of their two pairs of shoes.
They can look at their phone screens
As if there could possibly be something important there. …
He held her,
Smelled the purfume
She’d fingered behind her ears
Like fresh mint.
She held him,
Smelled the cleanliness
Of laundry, straight out the dryer,
On his collar.
He loved her.
Smelled the sour milk
Of her dampened shirt
Kissed by baby’s lips.
She loved him.
Smelled the dirt
Of his warm skin.
Kissed his calloused hands.
He left her,
Smelled her lavender shampoo,
In the early morning,
As he said goodbye.
She lost him.
Smelled his stiff uniform
Until his scent faded.
She held herself together
In his flag.
I’ve been writing stories since 6th grade. I’ve been writing novels since 9th. I was an awful writer then (good for my age, which was still awful), but I have learned a lot in the years it has taken me to continually put off publishing, and finishing anything relevant.
There are things that I notice that make my writing better, and I would like to share them with others.
There’s a popular song playing on the radio today and it has been playing on the local Christian radio stations for about eight months. I didn’t look that up. I just know because it’s specific to something else that lasts about eight months.
The song is by Hillary Scott & the Scott Family. It is called “Thy Will,” and it discusses a common Christian theme — that through it all — all struggles and doubts — God asks us to trust His perfect will. …
“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter. ’tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.”