heart's cry

my mask grins - bright, alive
crucible of hidden dreams
have I lost my soul?

-----

you shatter my peace
guilt-ridden; touch your distance
wonder why it's there

-----

my shelter, my Friend
God of a million faces
turn toward me now

-----

tornado whirls
unshakable foundation
oh, God, knowing hurts

-----

I asked this of You
to break my heart, for You
my dreams, not of You, shatter
my hopes, not in You, flounder
my loves, without You, sicken
my self, against You, die

I asked this of You
whitewashed, dead tomb -- LOVE YOU
and now You broke my heart

I asked this of You
forgetting that You answer
knowing You care deeply
but fearful of Your guidance
and wanting You like poison
though conscious that You're Life

I asked this of You
to mend my heart, for You
my dreams, about You, vivid
my hopes, all in You, sturdy
my loves, with You, to deepen
my soul, joined to You, dancing

I asked this of You
blood-washed, still uncertain
oh, Dearest, carry me

hoy no entendo nada

I hate politeness. I wish honesty would be given me. Masks are semi-impenetrable. I had rather have my guts punched. Politeness makes me wonder if this is all in my head; if exhaustion, emotion, sensitivity, and weariness are making me lose my mind.

I drove weeping. Thank God, I drove. Keening, I think, is the word for the noise that continually exited me, but I don't know exactly what it is called aside from my name for it: soul-screaming. This is the only time I do not look in mirrors. I have never seen my face in sorrow of this sort. The ravages it leaves behind are enough to see. I have not wept thus in years. I have never wept thus in public.

Park.

I sat there, car turned off, unable to stop. A lament for the dead? I do not know.

Oh friend, be friend. Oh God, help.