I am hurting; I am grateful.

Words, lyrics, poems, pour out of me like music lately, and yet, I feel as though I can barely carry a tune on my own. Gone to me are the days when I sang for the worship team for the church across the street. Now it is little more than a brick wall that faces my apartment in the same way so many brick walls both real and imagined now stand in my way. Now, I'm just one of the 2,000 voices at McLean Bible's Frontline, and yet, it's in my time of despair, when I feel so anonymous, that I seem to hear my own voice so clearly. Why has there always been so much creativity in suffering for me?

I believe I've blogged on this before.

When I was younger, I remember the sounds of screaming - dogs barking, walls banging, dishes sometimes breaking - and I remember how I drowned it out only with the words I poured out on the pages of my notebook. Waves of creativity washed over me so often, it was a wonder that I was first published at age 10 and that the story that won my admission to Duke University's Creative Writing program at age 15 was entitled, "These Walls."

In this, my suffering is a blessing, even though it brings me back to such dark and deep places. I no longer feel numb. I no longer feel devoid of creativity. I am hurting.

I am grateful.

Couldn't Sleep...

Don't usually like to post two poems in a row, but I woke up and had to jot this down... (freewritten again)
.....................................................................................

In The Wake of This
-------------------------------------
I wake and it's not to your face
though in vain I search the darkness
with slow heavy eyes
though I feel through the black of night
with numb unsteady hands
I will never reach you again, will I?
Your smile will never again wait
for me to wake
And in the wake of this
my heart beats like a funeral march
And I am dead without you
though you live and life goes on
for you so cruelly
I'm burried by the memories
heaped upon my shoulders
like so many handfuls of dirt
6 feet under, barely breathing
in this dark place I cannot sleep
If dreams could bring you back again
If the night could just take on your shape
and wrap around me like your loving arms
once did
I swear, I'd stay in darkness
I swear, I'd wish to never wake...

I Go On... (freewritten)

Excuse me while I backslide
but you don't pardon me
from the images that haunt my dreams
and fill up my nights endlessly
the empty spaces in between the days
once occupied by you
Aside from stay awake, what can I do?

Told me I was too destroyed
still, I'm moving steps ahead
after every leap back,
after every misstep,
after everything you never said.
And I'll get there if I try
was never one to give up anyway
was I?

Forgive me for caring too much
for wanting more for you than I did me
sorry my foolish love was not enough
I gave you my heart carelessly
And though you hold it in your grasp
everyday your face, your voice, disappear for me
a little more
each day brings you closer towards
the past for me
I'm already yours.

Excuse me while I move on
you may think it's just pretend
someday you'll realize what you gave up
though I'm now lost, it's you that loses in the end.
And though the loss is all I feel
there's much more to believe in
Just give me some more time to work it out
I'll get past this point of grieving

My heart doesn't hear but my head knows
you're already too far gone
and I'm backsliding constantly... yet, somehow,
I go on.

Back to Life

I lost the month of July. August is nearly gone to me. The summer that once promised to be the best summer ever never was. I saw none of it. It passed me by. And though I was content to escape the DC summer heat, I lost precious months that I can't ever get back. Fortunately though, I can move forward. And I have.

Somehow, I've managed to claw my way up out of that dark place I found in July and fell so deeply into in August. Though the healing comes slowly, it comes, and that's all that seems to matter. What a difference a little bit of hope can make. I guess the saying is true - that it only takes a little spark to start a fire. And even when the pain flares up and the tears fall - as they surely will again - it will not be extinguished.

The scars I've gained along the way may never be gone, and I may always be haunted by the memory of certain things, but I'm living; I'm breathing. Life goes on, and though it went on without me for a little while, I take comfort in knowing that while I've lost so much, I've also gained, and now I'm part of it again. And while that may seem minimal at best, it's something to hold on to.

And I do.