She has clung to the dying beanstalk for some time. Have you seen her there? Swinging as she clings? She looks like a butterfly caught in a spider web. Or is it a butterfly in a cocoon? Does she know she's been clinging to the beanstalk as a target or is she pretending she's just getting ready to flourish? The answer is that she knows the reality, but finds comfort in pretending...pretending that maybe it is just a matter of time before things unfold to emanate a fog of glitter and sparkles. Her fairy tale is quite unreal. Who could ever fall in love with a butterfly caught in a spider web? However, every lover awaits the birth of a cocoon.
But there was a time when she tried to be free from the spider web. She yelled "Please don't leave me in the dark! Please switch the lights on!" Her pleading was ignored. Her words yelled to the Grand Canyon's emptiness, a grandeur Summit, with roaring echos, and only solace as her audience. So she decides to play the game of pretending, all alone.
And so her voice was lost; the stars depleted her fire into a spark, from a spark to a gleam, and then to complete darkness. Now she cries within the shades of her heart. She decided to continue swinging, pretending she's in a cocoon. And as she puffs into the breezes, penetrated from what was once her home, she will slip away into life, pushed away from a prince charming's kick.
And she would have once said: "I will slowly slip away from your hands. And when the time comes that you actually care to look at your hands, you will be gripping only to our memories, and I will be long gone."
And today she would have said: "I can't make you love me and I can't make you care. I surrender."
The beanstalk will die with its dreams, wishes, and with that one-day-in-a-fairy-tale, which never happened.
Monday, September 12, 2016
I have stood in front of all the smiles and laughs. I have witnessed happiness and joy. And at that time I have seen the ease of words... As they lift their eyes to say "we worship you, Lord." I have stood and seen the thankfulness for a child. I have witnessed the gratitude for wealth. I have seen the fed give glory to God. And I have seen the good times give birth to a dance. But God, will we worship you in our pain? Will we lift our hands when our child is taken? Will we give thanks when our roofs are taken? And will we honor your name when all is lost? Will we glorify you in the midst of loss and grief? Will we shout your name in our pain and suffering? Will we give thanks for your perfect will... Even when it has caused our hearts to be dismantled? Will we bend our knees to praise you in our brokenness? God, will we? I will, God. I have. But it still hurts so... Just let me cry, Lord.
Oh, just let me cry.
Oh, just let me cry.