Monday, January 26, 2004

WORD : help Lord

Sent: 1/26/2004 9:54 PM


help me Dear Lord as i search and seek You
i feel alone in some ways as i wonder if there are those that understand me
some do
yet i remain so afraid that i can hardly see
what is wrong with me
oh help me Lord
i feel You here and i know You are working great things
and i am so blessed
You are so good to me
what more do i need to see
oh help me Lord
help me
there are times when i wonder if the world is crashing in on me
i wonder if this is the last day i'll see
i worry that i've been less than you want me to be
and i shouldn't
you love me
no matter what
oh Lord just understand
that i'm just trying so hard to do as You said
yet i am human, i fail
and further i'm being mean to myself
and that isn't much help
help me Lord
oh help me Lord


Love,
Chad


WORD : Frozen

Sent: 1/26/2004 9:21 PM

As I shivered home from work today, in freezing temperatures, the cold enveloped my lungs, skidded through my veins, dried and cracked my bones in decay. I feel lifeless. I feel alone. I am sad. Persons pass me and smile, and I find myself almost annoyed that they cannot recognize my despair, that they have the audacity to look upon my frailty with kindness. Perhaps my face shows health, a rosy frosty glow; alas my spirit is sullen and black, dark and blue. My eyes gaze heavenward towards the starless sky. My world is colorless. My skies an everlasting gray. Nothing's changed. I had hope that it would. But everything's the same. Icicle tears.

My spark, my hope for a burning flame, is frozen. No flicker beneath ice waves. My wick is wet, laced in snow. I feel that I have been waiting forever for something to show, yet inspiration seems to have evaporated in the winter winds. And as my great emptiness feeds nothing, nothing starves my light. Fog flurries blind my sight. Lost on a black and white canvas plain of Mars, there is no one but me who can hear my grieving screams over these scars that seem to say that I am to blame for everything. That this is my fault. My life is all my fault.

I am cloaked in open sores of my own disgust of myself and my life. I would bleed, but the chill has congealed, leaving me in blood red spider webs in which I am caught. It seems surely soon I will be eaten, if not first by the world, then by myself who seems cannot be fought.

Help!


Save me.

Save me.

Oh please save me.

Thursday, January 8, 2004

WORD : nonverbal

Sent: 1/8/2004 8:15 PM


i see you there across the way
and there's something about the way you say
not that i hear as i can only see
but your hands are moving wildly in ecstasy
as you speak some wonderfully intense story
of that dramatic moment within your day
the one your voice can only partly relay
so from a distance let me convey
i really love what your nonverbals say

WORD : Kevin

Sent: 1/8/2004 7:52 PM

I know Kevin from the neighborhood. He rode past me on his bike and saw me smoking a cigarette on my stoop. He stopped to ask if I had an extra. And as I did, he stopped to smoke with me, and we engaged in further conversation. He told me about his kids. He told me how he wanted them. He told me how he sought a job for them. He told me about his wife that kept them from him. He told me what I found hard to believe. Yet he told me what was true to him. He spoke to me. And I heard him. I don't know what lead us to know one another, yet we did. We understood circumstance. We understood the divine. And we stopped to talk about it.

Kevin is unique. He has no judgments towards me, as I impart no judgment on him. We’re living this. We’re doing the best we can at this moment in time. We’re just trying to get Home. We know our boundaries and respect them. We only tread in ignorance. And we forgive.

Tonight, sharing a drink, I looked at pictures of his life. His mother. His father. His sister. His son. His daughter. His wife. Every piece of sincere memory placed before me. Every smile known. Every bowed head recognized. Every moment captured in beauty appreciated. I was honored to look. Funny that he was honored to show.

As he left he spoke to me of time. "T hings I M ust E arn."

If earning means learning, I’m in complete agreement.