Five Minute Friday: Morning

It's been a while since I've linked up with my friends at Five Minute Friday, but today's prompt was such a good one that I knew I had to write something on it. I don't exactly do the whole "five minutes" part of it as I'm not good at writing under that kind of pressure, but I love the prompts and reading all the various things people write about. The community are a really great bunch of folks too! If you're interested, check out the link above for more information and to link up with this week's prompt, click here. This week's prompt is MORNING. The following is my take on that prompt in a free verse poetic sort of style.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for a day that has yet to come.
It isn't dawn or sunlight or birds tweeting their birdsong
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is what a new morning signifies.
Hope.
Oh Hope, you temptress you.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When the light filters through the trees and illumines the world
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for the scent of dewy grass and cooler breezes.
It isn't the air so pure with freshness or quiet stillness
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is that I may find new purpose in the morning.
Purpose.
Oh Purpose, how you seduce my senses.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When all the world has just awoken and nothing yet dares to stir,
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
This night, this endless, dark night keeps me waiting.
It is the raging tumult of rain and storms, howling wind, and impenetrable darkness
Which keeps me waiting and yearning.
It is these that pull me into hopelessness and worthlessness in this horrible night.
Hopelessness.
Oh Hopelessness, how you tear me apart again and again.
I look for morning
But you blind my eyes and tell me that I will never find morning again.
Worthlessness.
Oh Worthlessness, how you inject your venom like a drug into my heart.
I look for morning
But you deafen my ears and tell me that I am not worthy of seeing morning again.
In this onslaught and torrent
I am buffeted about, as weak as a thin piece of paper.
I am doomed to the night.

Morning with all her promises does not come.
Night and all his terrors abound.
But there are voices in the howling wind.
Voices that I strain to hear.
Voices that urge me to keep waiting for morning.
I am weak, like paper.
I am tired of waiting.
I cannot wait any longer and the night is fast stealing my voice.

Then strong arms hold me fast in the night.
Compassionate and understanding ears hear my wails of exhaustion.
My head and hands are lovingly tended with prayers and oil.
The voices walk with me through the night.
So I wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
And although it is still night
And dawn seems unimaginable and impossible,
These supports give me the strength
To keep waiting for morning.

Lull

This is part of my prompts series from the blog The Habit of Being. Each of the posts in this series will feature the prompt for that post as the post title. While I may sometimes use the current day's prompt, it is more likely that I will pick and choose as inspiration dictates. If you are interested in following along with the prompts or writing some of your own, here's the link to the page with the prompts: http://thehabitofbeing.com/writealm/

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The huge oak tree in fairer weather.

The huge oak tree sways,
Its stately limbs stretching skyward
Side to side, they fan in the heavy breeze.
The air, thick with water
Hot and heavy, despite gusts of wind.
Clouds above hang pendulous
And ever darkening from gray to patchy ash to soot
Plump with the promise of rain soon to come
And the pleasant smell of petrichor when the rain has ceased.
My hair whips around my face
Strands catch my nose, lips, slightly open mouth
As I assess the sky for signs
Of more than the rumbles of thunder and streaky lightning.
Girls rush inside to escape rain.
My feet follow theirs
Fingers flicking the TV on for more learned advice.
The littlest bear crawls into my lap
Seeking snuggles and my voice to read stories.
My lips find her soft hair and
We rock together through "Guess How Much I Love You"
Her sisters retreated to their room
And in the quiet, the sound of falling rain.
I gaze down, see steady breaths
The little bear has fallen asleep
Lulled deep by raindrops, rocking, and reading,
Her sweet curls moving gently in the ceiling fan's cool breeze.
In the lull between wind and water.
In the lull, my eyes close to rest a moment
And fully feel the weight of sleep against my torso
Keeping this rare moment of quiet close to my heart
Before the lull between chaos and chaos ends.

My littlest bear, GB, sound asleep on the sofa.

A Meditation on Psalm 8 and Psalm 139

 A Meditation on Psalm 8 and Psalm 139

*inspired by Michael Card's "Starkindler"

What is man that You are mindful of Him?

You have kindled my soul from Your endless imagination and unfathomable power

You knit my bones and formed my being

You counted my days before their commencing.

The stars above me bear witness to Your supreme power,

The music I hear to Your infinite creativity

When I look above me into the vast expanse of space

The sky stretching on and on towards the heavens

Strewn with stars and planets

I wonder, breathless, why You created little, tiny me.

The vast oceans roll into the shore

Shifting grains of sand beneath their waves

While breezes lift my hair

And my skin drinks deeply of the sun's warm rays.

Birds soar upon the currents

And nestle in trees

Which teem with their own life

And the myriad of life which also makes its refuge in their branches.

Each creature, from tiniest insect to the largest mammals

Were shaped in all their complexity by Your fingers

Their courses directed and needs provided for by Your hands.

Grasses, plants, flowers, and every living thing springs forth by Your command

A symphony of beauty

And a tribute to Your Eternal Majesty.

With all of this vast creation, so intricate, elegant, and beauteous,

Who am I that You, the God of the Universe,

The Starkindler

Should sculpt me to reflect Your likeness

Send Love into the world as a perfect sacrifice for me,

And enkindle within this soul You made, the fire of Your Spirit?

Who am I, that You are mindful of me?

Today's post is my first ever link up with this week's #RaRaLinkup at Kelly Balarie's blog, Purposeful Faith. I hope you enjoy it and find it uplifting! Thanks to my friend Tara for introducing me to it via her blog!

Day Twenty-six: Poetic Musings on Depression

Note: I have been inundated with life lately but wanted to post something related to depression to help move this series along. To that end, the following are three poems I have written at various points along this journey. They are meant to convey some of what depression feels like from the inside. They are quite dark, so if you are easily disturbed or triggered, please be cautious about reading. 

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Into Black

The darkness steals over me again
And I feel quiet in its clutches
Despair washes through my brain

Day Fifteen: Poetry, Music, and Yummies!

Given the intensity of my story and the fact that I've been working on it almost non-stop for two weeks, I've decided to take a break from it for today. Instead, I wanted to share three things with you that are personal but not related to depression. Hope you enjoy!