Proverbs 13

12 Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

I am thankful that in my life i have been the helper and the helpee. I have been the hopeless and the “hoper”. I’ll make this short and to the point as possible. If there is someone in your life that drags through their days and you can see it, do not let that continue. If you see a need in someone please reach out to them. Whatever that need is whether it be to listen, to speak, or to just sit there in the quiet w/ them, please try. We were built for relational love and life, and if we can reach out to just one then we have began to change the world. For many years I suffered in silence and I am thankful for the people who saw the need and met it, even when I wished they would just leave me to my solitude. I mean it is a fine life between intrusion and decongesting the confusion that someone may have. The only advice I offer there is pray and judge it accordingly. “No one can do everything, but everyone can do something.” I wish I could remember who said that, but the point is so valid. Together we can erradicate this plague of loneliness. There are some that I let get by me and it stays on my mind. One in particular so I wrote this poem…

She walks barefoot over a shattered past
Feet blistered and bloody like her knuckles
Her knees buckled at her reflection from the pain in her mid-section
She sees her demons screaming
No more soul gleaming so she punched the glass

Her fears well in her ducts
They overflow and gather at her feet
the salt stings the cuts and wounds that stay entombed
Swept under the rug with lifes broom

She shuffles through the shattered past on the floor
picks up a piece she can’t ignore
it offers more that she adores
in her reflection and tapes it to the wall

She shuffles through he bag of break up and make ups
She lathers her face with a layer of base to cover ever wrinkle stressed and pressed into her face
Her eye shadow can’t hide the lack of sun in her eyes
Nothing to shine through the rain clouds she offers as eyes
The bristles of a mascara brush drug through each lash for a perfect seperation from the deprivation from this past
She looks in the mirror and smiles because the piece she picked up was of her as a child before she was struck and tucked away

She walks out the door and in matrix language her pain pours
She lives on the corner of hopeless lane and please hear my cry street
She catchs a bus full of the “stuck in a rut” that she relates to
In the window they advertise of a place where they hear your cries
In said “Micah 7:7”
This time she writes the number down and stores it in her phone
she will call when she gets home
As she exits the bus and dissapears into the rush……

to be continued….