I had become my grief, lost,
How I let myself, I did not know.
I thought I was on track,
That’s until I look back and find an unknown path.

I know I try to control,
To make sense of what does not.
But every time, You are there.
You have my back and You are everywhere.
This loop is all too familiar.
It’s time to change, but how?

You give me glimpses,
And I trust for a moment.
I am happy, then forget.
But I want to grow from this place.
I want to stand confidently, trusting Your grace.

You are with me.
You’re all around.
I am not lost,
But lovingly found.

How sweet are Your lips that speak life;
Hope sparkles like rubies and gold.

I am fury, and
I rage.
I jump up and down,
Attempting to disengage.
From the idols,
The expectations,
And internal damage,
The oppression.
I am scorn, and
I lash out,
I scream:
Those ‘******* idols’ I shout.

Word wranglers wound up together, in an
Exchange at a hotel.
One said this, others said that...
And many a champas gulped and guzzled in between giggles and gazes, as
The past was pulled, kicking and screaming, into the present.
Was it a gift?
Were past pains put to peace?
Or did it awaken promises long forgotten,
That was once under the authority of the surgeons' scalpel.

Shakespeare once wrote, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
Solomon, in Proverbs, posed that the power of life and death is in the tongue.
Words create worlds, whether written or spoken: they liberate or load us up.
This power is with us every minute of every day in every hour.
Will I write new words with my weapon whence today?
Will blossoms bloom in your heart or weeds strangle the hope in your womb?

Death always steals the show,
But it is joy that revives it.
Entering within, re-wiring love,
Breathing new life, with new words;
Remembering promises of a powerful and plentiful future.
Declaring death dead and life to be lived.
Declaring love released, and again risking heart-fully.

I'm one of those,
There are many of us now,
The daughter of a narcissist, exposed.
It should be his cover that's blown,
But I guess now it’s my own,
So I can see the cost, all the talent,
confidence and opportunities lost,
Because of small men,
Cowering.

Can't beat a great coffee; delights all the senses with rich, silky milk, all frothy.

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to hide.

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to perform.

I hear you, little girl,
You are now growing into a woman.

I hear you, little girl,
And cry for the things that were stolen.

I cry for you little girl,
You can just be.

I cry for you little girl,
You are brave with much to offer.

I smile for you, little girl,
And am so proud of who you’ve become.

I heal for you, little girl,
And let you rest for a while.