Death of Moammar Gadhafi

I was so struck and intrigued by the images I saw of people lining up to see Moammar Gadhafi's body in Libya, so I decided to put myself in the line and try to feel what these people might have been feeling.

Death of Moammar Gadhafi

Standing body to body

in a line of hundreds

maybe thousands

curved and legged like a caterpillar

slowly stepping

one limb at a time

toward a victory, a reward

to prey upon

We are victims and now we victimize him

to take our place

to take our scars

If only we could see his lifeless, bruised body

then we could feel free

In line, we wait anxiously

for death to turn into life

Words

Here are two poems about the lovely topic of words. Enjoy!

1.

Words: I love and hate

For they hold power over me

to encourage and to destroy

to bring greatest joy

and to give greatest hate

tugging me onto either podium

happiness or hatred

I have given words this value

by putting them on such a level

that they define and evaluate

too much, of what is my value

2.

Words so many days

are too much

on our tongue, clinging to minds

that won't let them free

Is it just me or

do some words lodge into our being

while others float by

uninvited and unnoticed

Who determines what

we will remember

what stabs our ignorance and

what we say that's never heard

Maybe it's clearer

when we turn off our mouths

and find the words that fell away

Seasons

I looked up and saw what had fallen upon us

In the changing of trees

The saturated colors of death

So many days we carried the heat

On the sweat beads of our backs

Waiting for wind’s relief

And so many steps I wanted to go back

To where I was before the seasons

Ran so quickly and left me behind

But the words of the wise lifted my arms

And pushed my heart in front

Leading blindly but forward

And now my tired eyes awaken

To how nature works its ways

And births something more beautiful than pain

The thing about band boys is...

I just found this poem that I wrote quite a few years ago about boys in bands. Enjoy!

The thing about band boys is...

They are fun to look at but not to date

Their music is great, but they’re always late

Their hair is cool, and they’re style sweet but somehow they manage to hit on every girl they meet

Sure they’ll write you on myspace but never call

Their life is going great unless their band takes a fall

You come to see their shows, but they don’t care

You’re a small concern compared to what they’ll wear

They’re poor as dirt and sometimes they smell

And rarely do they ever come out of their “I’m a rock star” shell

After the tours have ended and the music stops

You finally see that band boys don’t really rock

Fruit of the Earth

Taste this sweet red plum

And let its juice run

Down your young, fair face

‘Til you feel joy come.

Peel a peach with teeth

Like a shark to prey.

Eat ‘til there is bone

And your skin smells sweet.

Crunch a ripe pear slice

‘Tween stone-hard white teeth

And bite through its shell

To find what is nice.

Take fruit off the tree

Each day and be free.

(Un)organized

I hope I'm more than

just your to-do list

Spouting, spitting and spinning

with appointments

May you see past the lists

and into my (un)organized heart

Wishes on Fish Hooks

Craving new experience

like a child hungering

for the sweet dew of a strawberry

to tame the salty sting of summer

Soon. Soon.

Soon hangs in the air

like the balloon I've let go

floating into the azure abyss of sky

and I wonder

will it ever come?

Will a new day ever arise

out of yesterday's crumbling high rise

Breath, just breath

is all I can control now

while my wishes are on fish hooks

baiting tomorrows

Ode to the Midnight Bird

Here's a poem I wrote the other night while listening to a bird sing through every call imaginable outside of my apartment at 12:30 a.m. Although I found it odd the first night this happened, I'd like to think he lulls me to sleep and is my little friend who stays up late, too.

Ode to the Midnight Bird

O midnight bird

you must be confused

for you've tried every trill in the book

You are much too late

or hours too early

for calls so bright and cheery

But for now keep swelling

while us artists are dwelling

on the night's creativity

Sing with vigor

o midnight bird

before dawn steals the show

Unleavened

I am one of the Hebrew children, running

out of the chains of Egypt

in too much haste to let my bread leaven

I'm leading someone, if not just myself,

to a different world

I heard my Deliverer's voice

and saw Him move winds

With each sandy step

I know more and more that it is our time

to step out of slavery

and into sonhood

Although I can barely see my next step

as my last print blows away

I am where I'm meant to be

at this moment

My history becomes my destiny

and my walk, a legend

My feet bake in the sun

My bread is unleavened

Rainstorm Rebirth

I forgot the way the rain smelled

like mother nature's dryer sheet

making it appear as the ground started fresh

born again with dew

heavy with weight of washing

rivers form and coolness melts

the tendrils underneath the drops

Some say the earth cries when it rains

I say it's coming back to life

Hope knows

Romans 5:5 "And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."

Hope

knows no shame

it sees no fault

it believes in all

Everything

is accountable to hope

with its grandeur of possibilities

Challenging

our hearts and heads

to not feel the ground

of weighty gravity below

But

to lift up toes

to reach the height of breeze

We must see you

Before we feel you

Hope

Heaven on Earth

This poem is based on how we as humans assume that we can create a sort of heaven on earth with all of the best possessions around us at all times. I find it humorous how, especially as Americans, we try to sort of create an eternity based on what we might need, as in stores that never close and have everything that anyone could ever need or want.

Heaven on Earth

We think we are heaven

with our all-day hours

and extra large portions

The camp we've built

could never be invaded

Our fridges are filled

with favorites from above

our manna lies in a drive through

Planning for forever

we save and worry and save

building on our days

Must we try

to create a creation

that has already been Created

Show me some love

Here's a poem to get you out of that post-Valentine's rut.

May Love

May love move us

Into the shoes of the person sitting next to us

And into the hands of the needy

May love guide us

Into the situations that scare us

And away from people who wound us

May love seal us

Into the letters we live out

And ship us into the wide world to explore and be loved

May love blend us

Into many shades of peace

In the midst of a graying world

The Small Things

"We cannot do great things on this Earth,

only small things with great love."

-Mother Teresa

One of my dear girlfriends, who I met during my semester at Oxford, sent this quote to me on a cutely creative, homemade Valentine's Day card. It amazed me when this card came less than an hour after discussing the idea of this paradox of the significance of small things with some other women. This concept seems to be playing out all around me this week. Although I'm definitely still learning what it means, I'm finding myself at peace with the idea that the little things in life make all the difference.

This is a bit difficult to grasp, myself, as someone who has secret dreams of being famous and a constant need to be saving the world in some way. My life, with all of it's pieces and puzzles that I can't figure out right now, has been teaching me to hold on to the insignificant things. One of my favorite parts of my favorite book (The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis) is how the devil in the book pushes his "student" devil to convince the human that all of life is ordinary. He instructs him to show the human that nothing about life is extraordinary, mysterious or meaningful. The worst thing for us as humans is to expect everything to have a clear-cut answer, a recipe and no coincidence. But, thankfully, this is not so.

I have been learning that living life to the fullest is about finding joy in being stuck inside with snow covering every piece of the ground outside, loving the quirky things that people do at work and baking 2 1/2 dozen chocolate chip cookies for one person. Although I could be spending my time being depressed because crazy weather means I won't get to see my boyfriend any time soon, how annoying my coworker's personality is or how depressing eating chocolate alone is, I am slowly experimenting with embracing these things.

Even if we can't change the circumstances around us, we can change how we react to them.

Many times we can't control what happens to us or where we are in life, but we can find small things to enjoy along the way. Like that Switchfoot song says, "Happy is a yuppy word." If we are looking for the people and things around us to make us happy, it won't happen. But I've found that putting love into the little things that comprise our lives and others can speak louder than our wishes and wines.

-Grace

One is the loneliest number

Today it snowed again. It's my day off of work anyway, so I'm spending the day alone entertaining myself. I've totally gotten used to this. With my work schedule I tend to be alone a lot, but it's given me some good time to start new hobbies and spend time with God.

So far I have spent today playing Donkey Kong for a few hours, recovering from a stomach

bug that I got yesterday and watching my DVR-ed tv shows. Although I definitely wish I was partying with my boyfriend and friends, I am content to be here.

I just got a new camera (nothing too fancy but works well), so I took it out until my fingers froze to catch some snowy mom

ents.

The rest of the plan for the night will include watching Ugly Betty episodes (my favorite show of all time) and perhaps baking some apple oatmeal scones. I love baking when I'm alone...especially when it's cold outside and cozy inside.

Enjoy the photos.

-Grace

Snow Day

I woke up to lots of snow this morning and was thinking about how amazing it is that snow is so unexpected. We never expect when we go to bed that when we wake up the world will change and be more beautiful. Here's a poem with my thoughts.

Snow Day

I don't know why

we are so surprised

when we wake up to find

the ground covered in pillow flecks of white

We just assume

that our world will resume

without a new bloom

or any change, anything greater than doom

When God makes each day

in His own special way

giving us time to play

outside of the boundaries we set with what we say

Made in _____

Walking china dolls,

stitched from unknown hands

with unknown wrinkly imperfections

wearing a burden

someone stitches for us

for a few dollars

or cents in a foreign currency

our tags tell

of a distant land

filled with the billows

of hard work

not ours

as we claim as our own

The world spins

as the weaver winds

and dear China sends

us the fruit of its labor