tomorrow is september 1st.

a day rich with meaning only two people know.

i will not be going back soon.

there are punches thrown in sleep.
and yelling and yelling and yelling.

where's the justice in shattered images?

(yesterday, he said he could work even this for good. even this anger. even this anxiety. even this troubled soul that's afraid to go home for fear of his eyes. what will they see this time? what will i? the reflection of an other woman, something i don't recognize)

i'm not ready yet, i don't think.

so much sorrow, still,

those streets not being what they were only three months ago.

i'm not brave enough to go back without shaking in my sleep.

--

this may be the first autumn without any red.

in the simplest way i long for home.

to come home.

to be home.

to find a home.

to settle.

new york, i wonder if i will see you this october,

leaves blazing one last time before the end.

i must live in thankfulness

holy spirit energy running through my heart.

life is so good! there are so many good things here! so much! so much!

i must live in thankfulness, or else i might collapse from all my fleshly fears and anxiety and heartbreak. i like in thankfulness of the hills and the gold and the fog and the holy spirit energy running through my heart.

fog

the fog, the fog.

this is what california is like:

in the mornings i wake up with the sun shyly saying hello.

the fog, on the way to work, covers the hills and

everything is like a tapestry,

covering the hills in chiffon,

with lights shining so sweetly behind.

i see the fog and i think of him.

i wonder what its like see him shrouded with glory

and shining and so magical.

its peaceful in the morning,

before we remember all that we're supposed to be.

the fog and the sun and all its shrouded glory.

its like the Lord lives here,

behind the mountains,

just close enough to catch his scent,

to see his shadow.

finishing a novel, finishing a friend.

i read stories written so old and i hear in them my heart. there is comfort in jo's passion and her growing wisdom. comfort that this season of alone, though i chose it, will not always be. so funny, that stories can read me so clear. and i wish to part with trust in Goodness. it is over and i remember why it i hold it so close. older now, my lips tremble at the tender troubles of four little women. i know those troubles well, and hope that some do not come quickly to my feet. she said goodbye to her dear friend and found a more humble joy. i too, wish for the sweetness that bestows a woman in love.

a confession

i have not looked into a man's eyes and felt love for a long while.

though, i have loved the still glances they give me.

amazed that such a woman might bestow such attention,

they watch from behind their glass of wine

as if fate has favored them and Aphrodite is here.

they gaze, and occasionally i match it,

carefully securing their hopes.

my Lord, i have been a liar.

‎(I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel.)

and the L-RD says come away with me. and he sings over me a pure and holy song. and he tells me i am good and i am his.

he quotes jeremiah in my ear, The people who survive the sword will find favor in the desert; I will come to give rest to Israel. I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness. I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful. Again you will plant vineyards on the hills of Samaria; the farmers will plant them and enjoy their fruit.

and i learn to trust the promise of the L-RD, in the desert, forsaking all others, learning to love him.

and i, like the Virgin Israel, will again dance with the joyful. and I will be rebuilt. and he draws me in with loving kindness. for, i am just like Israel. i am just like Gomer. but, i will be redeemed. i will wear grace upon my head, like a crown made of wildflowers.

(and he knows just how much i like wildflowers)

today i struggle to say that it's okay.

i have so many my friends binding themselves to other friends.

i sit smiling.

i wait for great love.

ever changing.

sometimes i wish to call you to remind you that i am still the same woman you met a long while ago, only, i have shifted and moved underneath the tide.

my heart, like sea glass, is evolving. ever smoothing, ever changing.

these mistakes that i make that you take so hard only end up as lines in my glass. and, as i am ever changing, ever smoothing, i expect one day you might look at them as a thing of beauty.

i wish to call you to remind you that once you looked upon me as a thing of beauty. though, i don't hope for the return of things past. i only hope that memories will be remembered well, that we might smile upon one another and nod, knowing, resolving.

you, though, do not want such reminders and you nod with your head dropped low. and i know i broke you. and i know i must leave and continue to change, ever so slightly, smoothing and evolving into a woman.

these days i hope for grace. to deserve the name woman. to wear it well on my head, crowned with forgiveness and beauty.

simplest prayer

walking through the streets in the sunshine, she often prayed her simplest prayer. she did not intend to pray so often, these pleas merely slipped out in subtle sighs. she did not like to put paint on her face or hands. she knew nothing about smoothing out her hair. she wanted to look as pure as an open field. she wanted to look so pure, the feeling might seep into her heart. she walked down the street and prayed her simplest prayer: "I want to be pure. I want to be kind. I want to be good." If she could be good, she would be the loveliest girl even without any paint. she so earnestly hoped that one day she would be good.

one day we won't remember all of this.