it leans on me like a rootless tree

Too many mean words.  Too many mean not-words.  Too much mean, all around.  

The whole world is mean.  

I don't know if I can be strong enough to love it all away anymore. 

Thunderstorm Hymn

sits on bed

strums guitar softly

thunder plays the timpani

tap-tap of rain

swells of the wind

drown the strings in glory

a girl and the elements

only one song

Creator and creature in symphony

Sunday Afternoon

Low on gas

she

Throws coat in back seat

Rolls down windows

Skips exit

It’s the first warm day of the year.

Drives slow,

Doesn’t care. 

Drives fast,

Doesn’t care.

Doesn’t sing along,

Just listens,

Just drives…

            drives…

Semi-trucks and

SUVs and

sports cars,

Any just driving?

            She wonders. 

            Breathes deeply. 

Twenty-three miles (one for each year)

And exit eighty-three

To nowhere.

Windy roads and

empty fields and

small-mountain hills.

Smells manure,

Doesn’t mind.

Feels familiar,

But different enough. 

Deserted cemetery.

Pulls in

Drives the circle

Sees familiar last names

and crucifixes and flowers. 

Sees a fat goat watching her,

chomping grass.

Feels no death

Feels sunlight

Feels good.

Low on gas

she

finds her own way home.

Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away

And who can say what it is? 

Financial stability, an empty schedule, and no responsibilities… so I’ve heard. 

But maybe it’s lotion on cracked winter hands—stinging, healing.  The endlessness of open roads.  Music and art.  Maybe it’s the release that comes with cussing, the solitude of car-crying, or the last moment of worship in a sanctuary about to be destroyed. 

Maybe it’s nothing.  

On Existing

I had a good day today.  

I slept in and woke up to a warm house because Larry the furnace-fixer paid us a visit late last night.  I spent some time reading, took a hot shower, and had spaghettios and salt & vinegar chips for lunch.  I had brownies for desert that my mom made me for Valentine’s Day.  My roommate helped me push my car out of the snow, and then I went to a coffee shop, ordered a soy chai latte, and spent four hours writing and downloading music.  I stopped at home for dinner and a chat with my mom before heading to the church where I played Catchphrase with middle-schoolers, talked my little cousin out of “starting something” with a girl who was spreading rumors about her, and practiced music for our 30-Hour Famine concert.  Then I went home and had quality roommate time girl-talking, cuddling, and watching American Idol and The Bachelor on DVR.  Now I’m curled up in my bed, writing this blog. 

In Haiti, people died today.  People mourned, people searched for their families, and people begged for food.  People laid in hospital beds.  People roamed the streets.  People sifted through rubble and uncovered body after body after body.  People drank dirty water and ate trash and cried and bled.  People prayed, and maybe their prayers were answered, and maybe they weren’t.   

I had a good day today.  

I am not ok with this.