trembling but roaring

latest / her / around

1.8.16

august 01 / broken / ocean







like a wave that loses it's grandeur when it hits the ocean floor
so my heart was when you left it
but
like the ocean when the moon calls her name toward shoreline
and borders
so my heart surged with life, with power, on strings of chains broken












31.7.16

new / purpose / home

there's nothing new under
the sun
these words have been
written before
these feelings have been felt
before
maybe, just in different
order.
any / either way, i was sitting out at the
edge of the
earth today
staring into oblivion
when i was asked the questions,
who are you, why are you here,
and i didn't know how to answer them
so i jumped off the pier, into the swirling
waters,
the wind whipping my salty hair,
ripping my heart in two;
the wind howled, loud and muffled,
bass shaking bones, i tumbled and trembled.

it's hard facing myself in the mirror, when i'm unsure
of purpose, what my worth is,
i try to measure myself next to the ocean,
if only i could be more like her.
strong and calm and divisive and healing,
never ending.
i told her i admired her
she blushed deep green hues,
retreated to the end of the world
and rushed back with gifts of quiet chaos and
overwhelming peace -
she's captivating like that.

if you're ever confused, go to the coastline,
sink your hands in the sand, like a dying man,
and listen to the sound of God's heart surging toward you;
feel His breath - inhale exhale - dancing on your skin, shaking the earth.
look out into a fraction of His magnitude -
it's in the unknown, i find home.









28.7.16

untitled


worn. tired. a little lost at sea,
maybe. the north star is hard to find in the dark.



24.7.16

forward / nos·tal·gia / fin








     




     

i don't really have many words, to go along with these. except that this last year at camp was a time to grow - it ended up being that longed-for-but-didn't-think-was-needed-but-was-actually-really-needed transition from one season of life to this next one; lots of reflection, and forward-looking, expecting.
it was good. quiet, and a little nostalgic (who am i kidding, it was really nostalgic), and filled with peace. a lot of peace, of the other-worldly kind. it was nice.


6.6.16

anxious / dramatic / direction

i'm not trying to be dramatic
my brain is just filled with static
a constant buzz, hum drum
it can make it hard to
rest; some
times i think the thoughts are
slowing, turns out they're just
pausing
for dramatic effect
but i think i'm getting to a place,
where
thoughts are a little more
still, a
little more quiet
or maybe i'm learning to just
tune it all
out
now. either way, i know the quiet of the
night will
come, again, and thoughts will be just
as chaotic as the beginning of the world,
again, as numerous as the stars,
again, and, somehow i'll make it out,
 again.
i'm not trying to be dramatic
 my mind's just an addict
leaving me with all or nothing
and no direction as to where i am
going
it's hard not to use hyperbole when stuck in a
whirlpool
or is it all exactly as it seems? )

18.4.16

secret / garden / listen

someday all you're broken pieces will be put back together and there won't be a hint of pain in your heart and your scars will fade and you won't be able to contain all your joy and your soul will overflow with an abundance of life and through storm or sunshine you will learn how to thrive but until then you gotta keep pressing on and pressing on and pressing on and pressing on and fighting and learning and listening and falling and breaking so that the light can shine through your cracked skin into the secret garden nesting in your chest, so that gentle raindrops can dance with the parched ground, so that you can finally bloom when spring rolls around; listen: can you hear that? that's the sound of birds singing a love song to you, that's the sunlight waltzing through the canopy trees, that's your heart beating again.


13.4.16

anxious / april showers / may flowers



          



thoughts a mile a minute and no time to rest, no time to rest, no time to rest.
the flowers are blooming and april showers spilling
and my mind is spinning;
does it ever stop?
flowers, please, teach me how to be
at ease during the storm, how to soak up the rain
even when it's uncalled for; can you teach me how to dance
gracefully in the hurricane, bend gently at the touch of hail, and still
come out the other side looking like a painting deserving an art museum wall?
i want to know your secrets, because breaking every time a little drizzle comes around
is exhausting.