make it stop

I've been reading this and this. all while listening to this and reading this.

over and over again I hear the voice of my brother, in all of his wisdom, "silence only serves patriarchy".

despite being inclined to damn all patriarchies, I'm not willing to just yet. instead, perhaps its enough to say "silence only defends evil".

where abuse exists, our voice must be loud enough to make it stop.

what I thought about after watching the dark night rises is that recovering from a broken heart is hard work. difficult after being so depleted. how does one get their spirit back? their heart? I have been trying for three years, coming up empty handed, still at a loss, still so empty.


I have so much regret, so many messes to clean, so much dust to sweep. I am so sorry.

pyrrhic victory after pyrrhic victory. that it ever started means that we've lost. I've lost, so has he.

only love to you.

i did not know that one simple move could change the course of so many things. is any move simple? is any transplant of hearts and bodies a simple task? or it is against us, as i suspect, to uproot from the people and souls and soils we've planted ourselves in.

blow after blow, in the last two weeks, everything has changed. and one final blow tonight. one final connection severed; the most important one.

all i can say is: go. go in the direction your heart has always dreamed and bloom there. let me be proud. let me go as well, to sift. you, my dear, are on the brink of discovery. and while we stood at the brink of love, while we held each other's bodies close, we knew it was only for a bit. i adore you. i simply adore you. but go, go make music and dream dreams and have thoughts that you need to have. do not follow me.

and simply, thank you. and simply thank you for not asking me to come, nor dismissing mine. and simply, in the goodbye, my heart only swells one more time to affirm: i am the luckiest to know that you are alive. and to have my heart moved by you and changed by you is something in only count as good even in my longing to have you come back.

at night, i will whisper 'come back,' but i will not beg or plead or beg your pardon. i will not apologize for the threadbare faith i am but only hanging onto, mock it though you do. if its only that veil that keeps us apart, than you deserve the credit for your integrity - for your respect to not ask me to take one final swipe against it and come all back into your life. you deserve my admiration, from afar. i can only say you are good. i can only say i am so thankful to have known a man like you. your kaleidoscope heart revealing itself is so many hidden ways. i love it. i do, i love it.

and i too, have paths to find, a veil to darn, a strength to rediscover. i will sing as the barren women, singing as in the days of her youth. tents rebuilt, a life restored. and thank you to you, for seeing that strength as it was seeping out of me. and only love to you, one day we will meet again. only love to you.

tonight i sat as i watched friends lives fall apart and come together over love. over a glass of wine. over fear and hate and sorrow.

i sat, mostly silent, hesitant to ever share my own stories of love and fear and hate and sorrow.

and when it was time to go home, i went home alone, wishing for hand from california to guide me back, safely, to my bed and say goodnight. but instead i recited the promises that i have abandoned. faithfulness, love, true.

i miss your kisses and your eyes and your gentleness, i do. i miss your giggle and your bright face when i walked into the room. i miss your wit and your puns and your compassion.

but in this season and in this time it feels imperative to be alone. i left you, full of regret and wishing that i didn't have to and the one who brought me home has left again. but it seems so important to sit in my own thoughts and slowly make my coffee in the morning. only to drink it alone as i recite psalm 23 one more time. "i shall not want".

but i do want. i do want to be safe, and i want to have never left a beating heart hurting and i want mine to not be so acquainted with sorrow. i do want to know how i will pay rent again and to understand the coming and going of the tides. i do want joy.

you are coming and going with the tides. you are going. i have left. when a raven dies, its murder never flies over the spot where he died again. please tell me that doesn't mean we won't meet again. so much of my hope in the world right now is rested in the golden threads woven in your heart.

this season is hard and weak and lonely. in the best way, it is lonely. in the best way, it is honest. i carry a heart full of regret.

I am desperate to love the L-RD.


This is not to say I desperately love the L-RD.

everybody sees that you're blown apart

lately i cannot live a day without graceland or psalm 23. i cannot leave my brick walls too often from fear of how my fragile inner walls might collapse from attack. the world attacks with its spears and arrows and i am already down. i sit in this mighty fortress on 2nd street and clean and decorate and redecorate and build shelves and chests. and using all these tools makes me feel stronger in the midst of the weakest period of my life.

and what prompts these tears? these inner shakes that leave me curled up silently when no one is home? it is the unpacking of books and memories and riding my bicycle down the streets that used to be home. it is hate. it is reading the old notes and letters that were once the beginning of the rest of my life and then remembering they were all ruined with hate.

how can it be that this is how it ends? how little i planned the last few years, and what a mess i have made.

and so i recite, in the midst of the brink of so many tears that i am always balancing on, 'the L-RD is my shepherd, i shall not want'. i imagine the table he prepares for me as enemies scoff in my ear. i imagine what it might feel like to lie in green pastures, to sit beside quite waters, to fear no evil. because, dear L-RD, i fear the evil i have encountered. i fear it in the hollows of my ribs right down to where a mighty heart once beat.

all that has reduced me to these fragile bones reminds me to hope for the only thing that will satisfy. i need goodness and love to follow me, i need my head to be poured over in oil. i need to be hidden and kept so safe. in fact, i've never felt such a need for safety in my entire life.