Tuesday, January 12, 2016
My chance to choose was circumvented.
Looking forward to quiet and restful.
A surprise instead left chaos in its wake.
Afterwards, it came back to bite.
The anxiousness fed by the desire to be liked.
To be loved.
To be noticed.
Skipping meals again.
No appetite for the invisible girl.
I am merely a listening ear.
No need to fill a stomach.
But in the evenings I long for taste,
so I satisfy my tongue with the tang of salt and vinegar.
I notice the pattern.
So I make soup.
But now that I've noticed myself,
My stomach is full.
Not with food, but anger.
The rest is not found while sitting and reading.
It is found in walking and praying and breathing.
The sun shines on me, reminding me of God's power.
The clouds have lifted. Gone is the grey.
Except in my soul.
It still feels grey.
It has shadows.
The pain runs round and round inside.
When I think on those things, there is no place to rest.
In other memories, there is pause.
She stroked my hair.
He looked out for me.
She walked alongside me.
I was held.
I was noticed.
I was known.
I was cared for.
Those who showed me what love is.
They taught me how to rest.