More Poetry

here we are again 

it's like i never knew you at all

my eyes are tired of the darkness

and my heart is breaking

nobody knows you better than i do

nobody could be more lost inside you

i feel the way the rain hits down on the ground 

and i'm singing the song your heart sings 

in the breaking of the dawn

i hate to see the way you look at the stars 

knowing they can't fix it 

knowing they can't do anything at all 

i'll listen like the lark once he's lost his voice 

i'll wait like the ocean

it keeps on waving 

the lights keep on dancing 

and the stars keep on calling 

the music keeps playing and the way you look at me still makes me breathe deep

i'm lost in the sand on an endless beach

don't let me go

or i'll be lost forever 

e v e r y t h i n g

everything in the WORLD     is      Y  O  U  R S

i'm blessed to be living
i'm b l e s s e d to be free

i'm blessed to be alive
and i'm b l e s s e d to be me

Y O U   are the   O N E   W H O  gives to me
every penny that i need

Y OU 'RE   the   O N E  W H O makes the rain
and comforts me when i    c r y

my tears are in my heart
as it cries up and out to  YOU
and i know that everything is going to be alright
as long as i keep hoping

Them

T    H   E   Y            D  O  N   '   T            M   A   T   T  E    R              A   N   Y  M   O  R E.

i'm free.

alive and i'm free


YOU have  g i v e n    me wings.

they can whisper
they can stare
they can talk and laugh and be in love without me

but the world is mine to take without them
they are them
but i am me
they may not need me
but that's really a very great place to be

because

I      A  M      F   R   E   E

Him

Seeing is believing.


Sometimes the most important things in life are the things we can't see.
















I   c  a n ' t   wa i t    to  m  e e t    y ou.

Me

I'm addicted to sugar
I stay up too late
I'm somehow very smart and very dumb at the same time
I'm idealistic
I like that I'm idealistic
I wish I was different
But I can't think who I'd want to be

You

Sometimes you make me crazy
But I love you
Sometimes you're unfair, tyrannical and overly controlling
But I respect you
Sometimes you're unbelievable
But you've always believed in me
Sometimes I worry I'll end up letting you down
But you love me
Way deep inside
I know you do.

Her

Her hands were withered and bumpy

Her smile was yellowed and lined with silver. 

Her eyes were framed in crevices and crinkles. 

Her chin was wobbly and weak. 

Her mind was still sharp, but fading fast. 

Her words were clothed in kindness. 

Her expressions were joyful. 

Her stories were magical. 

She, was beautiful. 

"If I could go back," She said to me, "I think I would spend less time doing all the nothings that were really nothing, and more time doing nothings that ended up being something after all." 

12.28.13.

I wrote stuff. You're going to have to trust me on this one.

12.27.13.

My pale skin flushed hot again.

"You?"

"Me." She laughed at my fear. Still, I couldn't see her face.

"Why have you... come back?" I asked quakingly, not sure if I was truly awake. The cold felt real though, convincing me.

"Because of all of this. All this trouble, it's brought me back. I have a gift for a girl whose heart is pure."

"And you think that's me?" I said, breaking into a dubious smile of my own.

"I do."

"What's the gift? To win your husband's heart?" I frowned.

"He's not my husband any longer. He's alone."

I considered for a moment. It was true. I had said it myself. If only he had fallen in love again, none of my problems would exist. Still, I was vaguely suspicious. "What is the gift?" I repeated.

"It's a drop of  starlight." She said, pulling a vial from her sleeve. Even in the moonlight it shown brightly, illuminating all but her face. "Drink it and you will be the most beautiful woman in all the world." Said the ghost.

"And he'll love me?"

"He will."

"And he'll be happy again and resume his duties?"

"That we shall see." She held out the vial. Her fingers were thin and white; as I took the crystal in my own, she tucked them quickly back beneath the indigo velvet of her sleeve. "Drink it and you will see."

I studied the starlight. It glowed like a violet firefly, and smelled of vanilla.

"How will I get there in time?" I asked her.

"Close your eyes and drink. When you open them again you'll be exactly where you want to be."

My imagination flared again. This time I saw myself as the product of the stars, ravishingly beautiful and christened with a crown. I popped open the vial with a gentle twist. The smell of vanilla grew stronger. I closed my eyes.

12.26.13.

I ran as fast as I could, clambering through the thick white snow. But I was too slow. My small boot-clad feet simply wouldn't move fast enough. I couldn't catch up to the army of moving flames that scurried across the hills, driving forward towards the looming walls of the keep.

"Wait!" I screamed fruitlessly. I called out until I was hoarse. No one even glanced back. Their blood lust was too strong, sending them into a frenzy. My father was with them, I had no doubt. Still fighting to stop their manic killing before they destroyed themselves and us, and Dunleemar and everything beautiful that we loved. He was loyal, and that loyalty was going to get him slashed with a sword. I closed my eyes, wanting to block out the haunting image from my imagination.

Defeated and desperate, I sank to my knees, a rush of icy cold stabbing into my legs. "Wait." I murmured again, brokenly. "Wait for me. Maybe I could have helped." The stars in the sky were listening as I whispered the words. So was someone else.

"What did you say, my darling?" Behind the eerie silhouettes of the trees, a figure approached. Tall and slender, the woman seem wreathed in shadow.

"I said I wish I could have helped." I repeated, raising a curious brow. I didn't recognize her as any of the women from the village or around the countryside.

"Helped? Do you mean you would want to help them murder the king? It's what they are about, isn't it?" Her dulcet voice rang with shock and disapproval.

"Oh no," I said hastily, rising. "I meant that I wish I could have helped to stop them--to change there minds. I'm sure if they only tried, they could convince their king to remember his duty."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. I used to hope that he would fall in love again. Then we would rejoice, and all the people would be happy. My brother would come home again." I added, ready tears filling my eyes. I gulped them back. "I knew this would happen eventually. I just wish I could have done something to stop it."

In the silence that followed I glanced over at the hill again, watching as the lights grew dimmer, farther and farther out of my reach.

"Child," Said the woman.

"Yes?"

"What would you give to be the one to make the king fall in love again?"

"Me?" I gaped. "How?" I squinted, wishing I could see her face.

"It would be easy." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Who are you?"

"A ghost." She replied. I paled.

"Then if you wouldn't mind, find somebody else to haunt? I'm having a rather bad time of it already."

The ghost laughed.

"Not even a moment to spare for the Queen you've thought so much about?"

Next Year all Our Troubles will be Far Away

There's a line in that song. The one Judy Garland sings in the soft glow of fake looking light that tricks people into thinking girls look sweet and fuzzy when they cry. (They don't, just in case you didn't know. They actually usually look red and blotchy, and/or stained black with mascara.)

But in the song she says: "Next year all our troubles will be far away."

Maybe they were for Esther. After all, she got to go to the world's fair and marry John Truett and live happily ever after in the "Corny chick-flick" section of the DVD cupboard.
But for me, I'm not so sure.

Next year I may be home. I may not. I might be happy and healthy and safe. I might still be alone. I might have a cat. I might have a home. I might have a new friend. I might lose one of the old. I might be anywhere, and that is a beautiful and terrifying realization.

What will "next Christmas" bring for me? I hope I do better than to worry about the presents under the tree. Those aren't the real gifts.

The real gift is Jesus, people say. And I believe that with all of my heart. Jesus should be the reason for this season.

But there are other "real" gifts too. They are the lessons we learn between Christmases.

All last year's troubles really are quite far away, now that I think about it. Between this Christmas and last I've been blessed with many lessons learned. Among them are:

• Don't eat fudge for every meal. 
• Don't trust your secrets to unworthy keepers. 
• Refuse to let yourself grow bitter.
• Forgive, and you will feel better.
• Ask forgiveness and you will feel best of all. 
• Don't let life make you a victim. 
• Remember not to let yourself take on other people's foolish burdens.
• God is with you, even in the greatest feelings of emptiness.
• Good friends are rare.
• Most people's opinions don't really matter. God's opinion does. 
• Be thankful. 
• You have strength. 
• Sing more.
• Look for the good in people. 
• Don't roll your eyes. 
• Thank your teachers. 
• Don't be afraid to cry sometimes. 
• Love is a strength. 
• There is always Hope. 

This year is one I will be happy to leave behind me, but if I've learned all that ^^^ and more, it can't have been a bad year, not really. Next year is scary, but I'm ready for scary. I'm ready to feel again. The numbness of winter is fading and I'm ready for spring, and smelling flowers, even if it means walking through a dark forest to find them. Always, I am thankful for all that Jesus has done for me. 

"The Mighty One has done great things for me. Holy is His Name." Thank you King Jesus. Forgive my doubt and my frustration. Take foolish me away, and replace me with Your Spirit. 

12.24.13.

"Wake up. Bela, wake up! Hurry!"

"Why? What's wrong?" My eyes were stiff with sleepiness as I grumbled. Warmth and quiet begged me to stay.

"It's come, that's what. They're going by hundreds into the city with torches and weapons. Your father hasn't been able to stop them."

"What?" My lips parted in shock and I opened my eyes. sliding out of bed hurriedly. "What will they do?"

"There's several men who mean to murderer our king. Perhaps they've a right to." My mother paused, her head bent over my father's cloak. She rubbed her thumb across its woolen surface, fingering the garment lovingly. There were tears in her eyes.

"Where is he, Mama?" I asked, fear pulling my heart into a faster rhythm. She set her jaw grimly.

"He went out to try to stop them."

I could hear voices as rumbling in the distance. Out my window I saw lights bobbing up and down on the hill.

"How could you let him do that?" I cried, racing to the window. She was right. There were hundreds of black shadows heading for the city gates, torches and knives in their hands."They'll kill him too if he gets in the way!" I shouted at her, anger tearing away inside me.

"What could I do? I couldn't stop him." She shook her head.

"You should have." I pulled on my cloak and started for the door.

"Bela!"

"I'm going to find him," I said, stepping out into the snow.

My mother hadn't followed me.

Christmas Eve(:

The huntsman's shed wasn't much, but it felt like heaven inside compared to the blistering cold and howling wind. There was even a fireplace and several wool blankets resting on the hearth. The huntsman tucked them all around me, as I sank down on a pile of thatch in the corner. 

"Will you be alright out here if I go inside?" He asked politely. I could see worry etched into the small lines on his face. He was thinking of the house he had worked so hard to keep nice and the rowdy noises which came from inside it. I felt an immense frustration blooming inside me, as the pain and the cold began to fall away and my mind cleared up. If things were different I could have found a way to help him manage Jesse and his ruffians and repay all the kindness the huntsman had shown me. 

"I'll be fine. Thank you for the shelter." I said. "I'll only trouble you for a few days more, once the storm has passed. Then I'll be off. I promise." 

"Alright." He said nodding. I had half hoped that he would ask me to stay, or at least look surprised that I was leaving. Maybe he sensed that I would bring trouble on him. But I didn't want to do that, so I knew I had to go. 

"Where will you go?" He asked me, pulling off the hood of his cloak. "If you don't mind my asking." 

I shivered, feeling slow warmth flood my body as the fire crackled and twirled. 

"North, I suppose. My hope is to procure passage on a boat and sail across the sea." 

"Why?" He murmured, kneeling to add more wood to the fire.

"A new start." 

"What are you running from?" 

"Running?" I looked up sharply. "Why would you think that?" 

"Because when I found you in the woods you were lost, but you still kept going forward. There are only two options for being lost, at least in my experience. One: you stop and ask for directions until you know where you are again. Two: you keep going, hoping to find a place that suits you. Most people don't choose the second unless they're running away from something, because then it doesn't matter where you're going, as long as you're going somewhere far away from the place you left." 

I studied him in silence. A few wisps of golden hair fell across his face. Unseeing eyes stared vaguely at the wall. The reflection of dancing flames glowed within them. His face was serious but softer than it had seemed the first time I met him. 

"How do you know all that?" I questioned slowly. 

The huntsman smiled, standing. "You're not the first visitor to pass by my cabin." He opened the door. "I'll be back soon." 

12.23.13.

"I'd like to stay in your cabin tonight--me and my men--if it suits you to show us hospitality, huntsman." Jesse swung his mace over his shoulder and smiled with a tip of his head.

"And if it doesn't 'suit me'?"

"Then I shall again be forced to--"

"Dispatch me. I know." The huntsman finished, frowning. He tapped his fingers against the top of the hunting horn that hung at his belt, considering. "Alright." He answered finally. "Help yourselves to the food if you like. But I'll expect manners. After all, as you say, I'm only a blind man." He shrugged and opened the door for them.

Gasping, I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. What was he thinking?
I sucked in deep breaths as the cold continued to sap me of strength. Everything around me was growing fuzzier, and my head throbbed and spun. I glanced over at the dog, my eyes filling with tears that burned like fire.

"What am I going to do now?" I whispered, stroking the animal's soft fur. "Your master doesn't understand."

"What don't I understand?" The huntsman murmured above me. I started.

"I can't go in there." I stated dully, looking up at him.

"Oh I understand that." The huntsman replied.

"You do?"

"Yes. These men are scoundrels. I'd never let you in there with them. Don't worry." His face was alight with chivalry, and I stifled a laugh at this display of boyish innocence. He thought he was protecting me, when in reality it was the other way around.

"Thank you." I said earnestly. The gesture was no less pleasing for its lack of relevance.