ocean child

 ocean child, controlled by nothing but the sea herself

salt-soaked strands of hair whipped into a tangle by the breeze off the water

breaths slowing, becoming synchronous with the lapping waves, in...and out

ocean child, the grains of sand warm and shifting on the soles of your feet, standing here on the edge of the earth

the only place where your existence finds respite.

the fog

dense fog swirls in, slowly, without realization until it consumes all in front of you. unrecognizable.

its fingers grace over your skin, your chest, your face...tightness, choking, gasping

breathe.

come back down, running fast, away from the dark clouds that have fallen from the sky to the ground

the lights distorted, shapes you can't identify reaching out, do you know them?

breathe.

its caught up with you again, wrapping around your throat, your heart beats faster to try and pump oxygen rich blood to your muscles, organs, brain. unsuccessful. 

still gasping, vision goes blurry, then black

breathe.

eyes open wide, unseeing, surroundings come into focus, slowly, then all at once

get back up, just adrenaline, keep going, away, away, from this choking darkness

breathe.

muscles burning, screaming, can't go farther any faster, but you must

don't let it catch up to you, faster, faster, falling, hard ground coming up quick, crushing your hollow limbs

breathe.

body is still, panting, there is no more running, no more fleeing...

cold, damp, choking fog, seeps into your chest, your heart, your bones. 

too.

it starts out with small things, small instances where you're not chosen, not prioritized. what happened to the dynamic we used to have, what changed? slowly being ousted, but not aware of it until it's too late to reverse. you're torn between pursuing what's left of the relationship, but it's like a poorly maintained trail, choked with weeds and thorns taking over. there's a remnant, no markers, but you have to fight to find it, sometimes unsure if you're even on the right path. is it worth it to continue to fight the overgrowth? or is easier to just let the wild consume what it will, making what used to be, simply disappear. no one would know what used to be, unless they were there when it was. this is the fate for those that love too fierce, care too hard, invest far, far too much. you think that it will be returned, but, it won't because it can't be reciprocated. you fade quietly into the sunset on the era, depleted of energy from simply trying too hard, for too long, hoping that the new day will bring a fresh sunrise. how screwed up is it, that the kid who feels life with such intensity, is the one who was conditioned to not feel, to not talk about it? a caged animal with no voice.

flames

it's a slow burn, the flames at the bottom of your belly
they smolder and flicker as the intensity builds
the smoke starts to choke out your lungs, can't breathe, can't think
you have to flee, have to get the smoke out, the flames out
running hard and fast, faster than you've ever gone
feet pounding the ground, lungs are burning
you push your legs past their limits of exertion but you keep going
it's the only way to get the fire out.

if ive learned anything, it's how to hold my tongue.

fallen leaves

your hair brown, eyes are blue,
shorter height, 20-something young woman.
nothing striking, you're easy to look past, over, around.
you go unnoticed in crowds, maybe that's why it's so easy to slip through them.
you go unnoticed in rooms, familiar faces don't seem to see you.
you fade into the background,
like the falling leaves as they slowly turn to brown and drift to the ground.
they'll soon be underfoot, as insignificant as the bugs that crawl underneath them.
the cold begins to take over, frosting the grass crunchy in the mornings, breath condensates in mid-air like a smoke cloud.
meanwhile, those forgotten leaves once green and living, once full of vibrant colors, decay into the earth.

this is the season of fall, that everyone supposedly loves for its crisp mornings and cooler weather. the season that you despise because of the slow decline of life, the air that holds no potential. the days are shorter and the sun is gone for longer, vegetation dies off, trees lose their leaves, animals go into hibernation. and the world around you seems a little more empty.

rip current

the ocean waves you're drifting in take a turn
gradually, over time
they become bigger, stronger, frothy, full of movement
the sky becomes darker as the sun fades
you turn to look for shore and find it's far in the distance
 the waves begin to take you out farther and farther away
the rip current pulls you under
struggle back to the surface
which way is solid ground?
you remember what they always say about swimming parallel to shore to save yourself
don't fight the current, swim to the side till you're out of it
by the time you get out of the current, the land you meet isn't even recognizable
the faces on the beach, unfamiliar
almost like a different time 

Grace Youth [House]: A Eulogy

You were a hand-me-down for us. We walked through the door, both doors actually, the glass door that always made a very characteristic noise upon opening or closing, so everyone knew when you tried to sneak in late, and then the slightly peeling front door. We walked through that door into a musty smelling house for the very first time as 6th graders, unknowing of the memories that it already guarded, the memories it would bestow upon us. It was already pretty unique to have a youth house rather than a room, or even a section of the church. We had a whole house, granted it was a very small house, but it was our house. With mismatched couches and chairs that were older than us, but they provided an enveloping place that felt safe. The stained, ancient pool table that used to sit in the middle where everyone would rest their hands and put their Bibles. The knight that sat in the corner that watched over our studies, even though the people in my generation don't really know why he was even there. The chalkboard in the back where we wrote notes to each other and funny sayings or inside jokes. The tiny kitchen where there were popsicles and ice cream in the freezer that was long ago expired. No one actually ate it.
This house always had it's doors open (pun intended) in a sense, it made no judgements when you stepped over the threshold. You could also feel it living, breathing, full of past conversations, discussions, and laughter. What it represented was along the lines of what Christ lived on this Earth as; a place of refuge and worship and one of people coming together, even with all of our differences. People came and went, fading in and out of the fabric of the story like the sun going behind clouds and casting shadows intermittently. But there was always that core group of us. We were there just about every Wednesday night without fail, despite soccer practice, band practice, AP classes, homework, despite our pasts and where we came from. We were all so different, but we fit together like a puzzle. Some of us very deep, theological thinkers, some of us old souls living in a teenagers body, some of us acting like the parent of the group, some of us always having to be reined in to focus on what we were really there for. Some of us followers, some of us leaders. We complimented one another perfectly, effortlessly. Even though there were some roller coaster moments, people got mad at one another, as we all changed and developed towards what Christ was shaping us to be. We were a bunch of misfits that happened to just work well together. We were a tribe.We did everything together, especially during the summer. We were always at Sonic, causing mischief. We had countless sleepovers, swimming at neighborhood pools, bonfires. The years of camp at Woodlands, always being the crazy youth kids from that one church that couldn't stay away from each other. These years of memories were on a time clock though, as we all aged and grew closer to the time where we would grow apart. Eventually a couple of us graduated high school. We thought it wouldn't be hard to keep in touch. As we went away, dynamics changed. Things changed without us there. More tribe members left, or faded away. Eventually, everyone was dispersed, merging with their new present, leaving the memories we shared in the past.
This youth house, as old and dumpy as it was, and probably infested with who knows what, it was the last thing tying me to those memories. The ones I cherish so deeply. The connections, relationships, the discussions and learning, the tears, all of the moments that happened there were held in those walls. Whispering to you as you walk through that old storm door, reminding you of your past. As the house is brought to the ground, I feel like a piece of my life during my teenage years has been demolished as well. I grew so much during those times, learned so much about myself, about being Christ-like, about His love and what it means to love one another. I learned how people that are so, so different can mesh and intertwine and become almost a part of each other. Gone is the house, and the last physical thing connected to those memories. It brings about a new sense of need, to keep them alive in my heart and soul, but to finally let go of the past and how things use to be. To let the nostalgia fade, just like the tribe did. Facing forward, embracing the present and what is now.