Silence, The Chosen, and other mysteries

I just finished reading Chaim Potok's The Chosen for the second time. I love this story. Wait, no... love is an understatement. I remember reading it my sophomore year of high school in Mr. Lizza's class and falling in love with it then, with the intricacies of relationship, and the mystery of seemingly forbidden friendship. But I seemed to have forgotten it until recently. My discovery of Matisyahu led me to remember this treasure.
I picked it up at Borders while Christmas shopping and couldn't wait to get home and dive into it once again. My reading time turned into 11 p.m. to whenever. Sometimes I would read one chapter, other days I would read four. I always left off at a point that would leave me thinking for a long time. Every word in this book is drenched with emotion. I could absolutely feel what Reuven and Danny were feeling. I was completely absorbed and wished that the characters were real people. They were so real to me.
When I got to the last book (the book is divided into 3 separate books depending on the time period), the quote read, "A word is worth one coin;silence is worth two." A quote from the Talmud. I read chapter 18, the final chapter, listening to one song- "Silence" by Matisyahu. It was so fitting. I repeated it numerous times on my ipod. It was the perfect soundtrack for that exact chapter, the moments in which the agonizing silence between Danny and Reb Saunders is finally broken and Danny is finally free of the burden of his family dynasty obligation. Through each word, each phoneme, my heart broke with each character and I strove to understand. Tears rolled down my face as Reb Saunders spoke to his son through Reuven, as he explained his reasons for raising his son in painful silence so that he would learn compassion, so that he would learn to have a soul. It was the most gutwrenching, intimate, beautifully written dialogue. I wondered throughout the book if I was more like Reuven or more like Danny. I found so many ways to identify with them both. And as Matisyahu sang a broken"Your silence kills me/I wouldn't have it any other way/Is it wrong to think you might speak to me/You might speak, would it be words and what would you say/What would you say/It's so heavy/A heavy price to pay/Your silence," I couldn't help but picture Danny, his eyes moist with tears, his body shaking, pleading in the silence he had grown so accustomed to. There was a distinct parallel I found, and it shocked me.
When I got to the last word of the last page, I felt saddened and empty as it ended. I recently learned that Potok had written a sequel, The Promise, which I can't wait to get my hands on and discover.
The story made me think hard about everything. Had I ever had a friendship so costly and so cherished? No. Could I ever study so hard, be so devoted to an idea? Could I endure silence? Could I hear it and understand?
The last six years have been difficult for me in the sense that I cannot seem to sit in silence. I tried for the first time in years last night to let the silence speak to me, to hear the cries that go unheard, to understand myself. I sat there with tears rolling down my face, aching to discover and understand. I understand how valuable it is. I must get to a point where I can get there, where I can train myself to listen, sit still and understand. Thank you Reuven and Danny, and thank you Chaim Potok, for allowing me to discover and begin to understand.

To lift you up

You were always a man of so few words
Something I never understood
I always thought your eyes said it all
I haven't seen them in years
I feel, I know
You are not well
Hold on to hope
Your world may be crumbling
I can never know exactly what you feel
All I can do is await from afar
It's not the end yet
I pray for peace for you
Restless like the ancients
Awaiting change as it all spins out of control
Hold fast
You have been waiting as have I
For something good to come along
You know the pit comes after the plateau
But these valleys are quicksand for you now
Lost in the sands of time that keeps slipping away from you
You have become so wise, despite your youth
Hold fast and don't let go
Hope still rises, and love abounds
When you least expect it

Love's Labors Lost

Here I am
Listening to songs I haven't been able to for so long
Slowly cracking open
Unhinging my heart
Here I am
Allowing Him to heal parts of me that have been bruised for so long
I became so comfortable with my stagnant state
So comfortable being unvulnerbale
So comfortable masking it all
So comfortable saving my heart for someone who already has it
But forgot
When you're so used to being closed up, stitched
It can be difficult to adjust to having them removed
And all the hoping, the waiting, the failed attempts to reconnect
Only bruised more, broke me more
All the "what ifs" and all the "if onlys"
Life can't be spent on them after all
Life can't be spent in dreams
I held it all so tightly
So tightly
That when I opened my fist, it was crushed
Poured out
I spent years mourning the loss of something so fragile
"To everything there is a season"
It has felt like a drought
I am beginning to ready myself
For torrential downpour

Backward Art

Always together... almost
Never knew you had mastered the art
Shattered, broken
Pieces of what used to be
A once complete heart
Searching for rewind
A masterpiece you created so deftly
So delicately
The whole palette turned grey
The whole scene seems backward
Always together
On keychains and nametags
Always next to each other
Yet so far apart
How you've mastered this art
The art of you and me
Seemingly so far
Torn apart
Only the remains of a heart
First three together
First the same
Always the same
But backward
How I longed to be
How I wish we could be backward art

Streams of Consciousness... or waves at least

When was the last time
The last time I felt so caffeinated
When I was selfless?
Are my hands open with my eyes shut or the other way around
All around me the scents of pumpkin and evil and cinnamon and goodness
And honesty
Amid the impurity
And thoughts abound
About life and growing up
And young pre-college people sipping chai and talking about Radiohead
And me remembering that once that was me
Once not too long ago
Wow?!
Am I getting old or mature? Neither or either?
And man do I wish I had a Mac
It would simplify things and I wouldn't have to struggle with Vista's office shutting down on me
Not the only thing shutting down
My motivation to do what I should be doing
All in good fun
And I don't think I remember as much as I used to
At least not always what I want to remember
And I should probably get off this thing
And stop using and so much...

Since When?

Since when has church become such a breeding ground for hurt? I remember not too long ago, church was a place of refuge and shelter, a place of encouragement and inspiration, a place where burdens were shared, not gossiped about. Since when has someone's internal pain become such a spectalcle to all others around us? God save your people from themselves! It has honestly come to a point, sad to say, that I have become skeptical of entering my church prayer room. No matter how badly I feel I may need that intercession, I won't let myself enter. One internal struggle shared in confidence becomes next week's gossip in the church foyer. Who can I trust but God? Why must secret pain become shared whispers among my "brethren?" Instead of mocking me, why aren't God's people praying? I remember in high school I had this amazing friend. She would always ask me how I was doing, and no matter if it was good news or bad news, she would drop everything, right then and there, to pray in intercession or thanksgiving. I cherished that. I cherished the fact that I could tell her my prayers and she would share my burden, not gossip about it. My family has been through so much pain. I don't want to hear of my name being brought up in Friday night Bible Study when I am not there. I don't want phone calls from "brothers and sisters" in Christ wondering how I am doing only to tell the rest of the congregation so they can laugh at me on Sunday morning or tell me the latest news about myself. I'd rather you tell me to my face or ask me how I'm doing then to have an impostor tell you through second hand information. I was already a skeptic when it came to vulnerability. When you can't trust the body of Christ, who can you trust? And yet it happens everyday. Since when did church become such a place of mistrust? Of betrayal? Of fear? This is not what God intended. God save your people from themselves!

What did I do to deserve this?

I feel sick
Sick is an understatement really
I am left confused and severely offended
In a sick cycle
I have never felt so stupid and embarrassed and humiliated and hurt and confused
And frustrated
And there is not a freaking thing I can do about it
The nice one really does finish last
Because in the end, no one really cherishes the nice one
Everyone just ignores her and passes her up
Frustrated
Yearning to burn away something that just won't, can't go away
Why?
I just keep asking myself why
Any what I possibly could have done
I didn't know
I didn't know
I didn't know
I'm not wrong
I didn't know
I just didn't know
And now I am just hurt and speechless
Aching for words to spill out that just won't come
Timing is so bad
I didn't know
Because no one bothered to tell me
I didn't know I say through clenched teeth and white fists
I resolved to never be vulnerable
It kills me every time
Why?
Why? Why?
I would have taken away so many things
If not to be the fool
Why did you make me the fool?
Why did you make me the fool?
I feel so stupid
And I hate feeling that way
You made me the fool
You made me the fool
You made me the fool
But why?

realizations

*Insomnia again*

I realized that the reason I connected with you is because we are both artists at the core. We perceive, we seek to understand things deeper than other people. We are discoverers.

New

Tired of being blind
Tired of pushing rewind
Washing clean the impurities
Scarlet
Never felt so good to remove
Rinse away like rain
Torrential downpour
My heart beating
Racing
Awakened
To what...
I don't know
To hope
To inspiration
Possibility

If these scars could speak

If these scars could speak
They'd tell you the story
Of a mother who rejected the role
Suicide took its toll
A child who would never feel whole
If these scars could speak
They would whisper of fingertips
He held my throat with a deadly grip
After he kissed my quivering lips
I'd never been so full of fear
And the date rape toll rises every year
If these scars could speak
They would tell you of my son
Who left for war in '71
Flew off to Vietnam
Turned a boy into a man
Into a corpse
The valleys on my wrists prove my grief
So please, kindly, leave me be
If these scars could speak
They'd tell of an affair
Between a man so debonair
And his mistress with the long black hair
He gave her more than rings or pearls
He gave his heart to the young Spanish girl
I had nothing left to fight for but my life
As I became the ex-wife
If these scars could speak
They'd scream of how much I miss him
My dearest and most precious friend
Whose body let the cancer win
In tribute to that beloved boy
A tattoo artist I did employ
To carve his name into my skin
Never let his memory dim
If these scars could speak
They's sing of the greatest rescue
A dying heart in a tiny frame
A baby without a name
Open heart surgery
Proved a gift for my husband and me
As we gladly welcomed Emily

If these scars could speak
WOULD WE LISTEN?

Viper

He slithers through your teeth
Curves over your lips
Hisses through your lies
That forked tongue whispers the sweetest alibis
Black, slithering beauty
You crack a smile, he coils smoothly
Takes the form of your grin
Your lips are scaly nightmares
He shimmies his way into your heart
Replaces your aortic valve
Nestles into your left atrium
Poisons your life blood
Do you never think to have him surgically removed?
He courses his way through your veins
Causes you pain
Pumps himself into your pulmonary veins
He's nothing but corruption
Shut him down, shut him out
Yank him from your blood
Because he doesn't give up unless you do

Smile like you mean it...

Snap your fingers
That rhythm pounds in your head
Dances in your heart
Your eyes roll up like the shades in the all-night diner
Your mascara drips
Oozes onto your lashes
God, you hate the clumps!
Oh, you're worth being late for
Give 'em the old stare down
Because they make you envision the top of the world
You swear there's nothing like a double beat
Falling in love with the ipod generation
"I'll never let you go..."
Smiles that hide your mystery
Your blood is the ink on the paper
And it seethes, profound
You could be Janis Joplin in Monroe curls
Or maybe as ironic as Alanis back in '95
And you're not afraid to admit your guilty Ginsberg pleasures
Give him that side smile 'cause you know what he's thinking
And you could dissect anyone

All her world's a stage...

Pretty baby looks so tired
All worn out on center stage
Sway and stumble to the beat
With no one to engage
Quick! Draw the curtains!
Intermission calls for remembrance
Of past lines, dark lines
Thick times
Bitter rinds
Oh, rewind!
"But you can't rewind a play, my dear..."
Close your eyes
Or improvise until the coast is clear
Until you start to tear
"But that's so melodramatic!"
"Your scene is anti-climactic!"
"Your soundtrack overly cinematic!"
Whispering truth in your eyes
Revel beneath your disguise
A triumph of little white
Lie down now!
Improvise!
Cauterize!
Your blemishes covered by costumes and makeup
When will you wake up?
"All the world's a stage my dear"
"Could you say that louder? I couldn't hear!"
Behind the curtain you disappear
Like a phantom under the lights
No time for stage fright
"Sweetie, you're the star!
Everyone knows who you are"
But every face in the audience looks the same
And baby's got a brand new name
Yeah
Baby's got a brand new name

Scarlet turned pale

It called her in, so she drifted toward the shoreline. Her bare feet were iced, but her blood flowed warm, steady through her body. It was time to leave, to enter into a new dimension.

The sea looked black and calm. Scarlet waded in slowly, as not to disturb her pool of Bethesda. No lifeguards, she thought to herself. But this reality didn't frighten her. The moon shone silver in the midnight sky. She looked up at it with a smile.

Up to her waist now, she wrapped her sweater tight around her arms and took a deep breath. She was not afraid.

In a brief moment of desperation, she hurled herself downward, plunging downward in full release to the silent sea. Faintly, a voice called to her. "Scarlet, you are healed. You are beautiful."

She came up for a few seconds, choking, gapsing for breath, her throat filled with saltwater.

The waters encompassed her, threw her down. She fought at first, but soon relented. She drifted farther away. Fear gripped her as she frantically tried to make her way up.

The voice called to her again. "Relax, Scarlet. Don't fight me. You are safe. Don't fight anymore."

She let her body fall downward as a deep sleep seemed to fall over her. The sea seemed bottomless.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She awoke to the sound of crashing waves and the smell of damp sand. Opening her eyes, she realized she had been there all night. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and whispered, "I won't fight now. I am clean."

Another haiku

Two hands palm to palm-
Love under the linden tree
Safety in numbers

Mafia 101

You said the words so I released it all
Dropped my words like knives
Like kerosene
Wake me up now, it's all a dream
So abstract, yet so concrete
Walking down these blood-stained streets
Smoke and smog fill my lungs
Echoes of death, waving parched tongues
I pull on my coat, smoke past the alley
I've wasted these years, drowned them in folley
Out to defend my father's name
Thirsty for blame
Leave the revolver, take the meat
I make my way through these bloodied streets
Sirens blare, I've got my dignity
I'd be better off with anonymity
Daddy killed Johnny with a .45
Five days later Daddy died
Hideouts in crowded poker halls
There's no voices in these walls
With a James Dean smile
I'll kill 'em in style
And be back in time for manicotti

last chances

It all started with the rehearsal. "Stand here, sir. You'll be right." I remember when I was his age, yet I had already gone through this the year before. "He's too young," I kept repeating to myself hypocritically. "He's just a kid. He doesn't know what he's doing..."

There he stood in a tuxedo, nervously fidgeting with his boutannier, yet smiling all the while. He greeted the incoming guests as they squished, gasped and trampled their way into the crowded cathedral. His mother was all tears, so I had to remind her, "It hasn't even started yet." "I know, I know." Blot. Wipe.

I felt like I hadn't given him any words of wisdom, just 20 years of criticizing his mistakes. So much of me believed that this, too, may be a mistake. Nothing would take away that glimmer in his eyes.

"How do you tie this thing again?" One last piece of advice, one last chance to teach him something that just might stay with him. One last chance.

With a gentle smile I showed my son how to loop the tie just right and pull the bottom under.

He smiled in appreciation. "I'm sure she'll be beautiful. She's gonna look so beautiful. I can't wait to see her!"
I nodded statically.
"Ready?" he asked as we were ushered toward the procession. I nodded again, took my daughter's arm, and escorted her down the aisle.

With a tear of hope, I thought of how much harder it would be when it was her turn. She patted me on the arm and looked down.
*A son is a son until he takes a wife- a daughter is a daughter for the rest of your life.*

Mosaic

We are a mosaic
Each pair of eyes brilliant stained glass fragments
Illuminating
We are a panoramic picture
Each person a tiny dot, a speck
A beautiful blend of controversy and harmony
Each person emits a different aura
A different color, a different shade
A different scene of brokenness

She is

Aged, she waits in the wings
Behind the scenes
She prays silently, unsuspecting
She sends her prayers in due time
I long to hear words of wisdom
From wrinkled lips
Past failures, whispers from God
She has known Him longer
She lets me surrender to tears when needed
When desperate
She sees me
Recognizes the little girl on the swing
The one who stubbed her toes on smooth stone
The one who cherished the rain
Her eyes are refreshing
She notices words left unspoken
She can interpret the inexpressible
Her prayers evoke divine intervention
Her spirit speaks to me in silence
She is grandma guardian

Sunburnt haiku

Longing for winter
Ice to save my back of coals
Burned by summer's sun

Communion

*Currently listening to: David Crowder's Lime CD*

Communion, Communion
What a blessed union
Of Father, Spirit, Son
And I becoming one
The precious blood of One
And body broken, too
To save the lowly sinner
To Him all praise be due
Purple stained brow
And thorns compose a crown
Bring to me this precious blood
That in it I may drown
Communion, communion
What a sacred union
Of fingertips in nail-scarred hands
I hang my head and lift my hands
Blood so costly, blood so pure
To face the cross and to endure
Father turned away His face
That You would grant unmerited grace
Scarlet feet, scarlet head
Hands that healed, hands that bled
What a beautiful, destined fate
That You would endure pain so great
To set my life ablaze
With Your wounded loving gaze
I bow unworthily
My Scarlet King

Can't sleep

You can't seem to sleep alone
Hold your ear up to the phone
I'll put the phone up to my heart
The thump-pause-thump-pause will put you right to sleep
Too many nights too far away
Wrong words mixed with raw mistakes
You always held the tethers
That bound us together
So why are you letting go?
You say my heartbeat's getting slow
Your love used to burn my heart like a cigarette
Now you're heavy-hearted, full of regret
Miles stretch farther now
I can't reach you somehow
Return to me tonight
Rock paper scissors
And scissors always cut the deepest
You won and went away
And I can't sleep alone
So put your heartbeat on the phone
Just put your pulse up to the phone

olive branch

I have extended the olive branch
So many times
And each and every time
You have broken them
I am running out
Of olive branches



You were a balloon
Made to soar
Thus I had to let you go
The same as before

Untitled

You may not remember
But I remember everything
Never allowing anyone to pollute the memories
Nostalgia rings in my ears
Strokes my lips
Peers deep into my eyes
Begs for me to remember you
And I do
I remember
That I may not have been needed
But I was wanted
If only for a little while
And I do
I remember
All the unsaid words held beneath suspended breath
And all the others that roared in passionate discord
I regret those verbal spars
Sometimes
And I remember
The warmth of your hands
When mine were always so cold
And I remember
How mine wouldn't fit with any other
I remember the first time I truly felt alive
And the last time, too
Five years ago
But over that now
I grew numb
Emotional anesthesia
But I shook myself awake
In time
Nostalgia sweeps over me
Like a summer wind
I knew that in the end
You would find your way
But I should have let you come
I remember
Yes
I remember you

Distance does a lot for...

A good friend of mine recently traveled eleven hours by car to attend his sister's graduation ceremony from nursing school. His other relatives traveled from all over the country and his parents actually traveled from half away across the globe to make sure that they were there to support her and congratulate her. I can only imagine how special she must have felt with her family there. In six months, I too will enjoy the sweet smell of success by graduating with my Master's degree. All of the blood, sweat, and tears, sleepless nights and staying up for days to study for exams will be over and I will walk down the platform with my cohort and hear my name called with honors. It is a very proud and important moment for me, all of my hard work culminated into that one amazing moment. However, there are very different circumstances for me. Most of my family members will not be there. It's not the same for me to have them send a belated card. I want them there, I want them to share this moment with me. Yet they refuse to travel a mere five hours to attend, claiming it is too far. I don't know whether it is selfishness on my part or what, but there seems to be such a void without them there. It hurts more than I can know.

Everything's alright

Sometimes I feel like life is such a balance, never too good and never too bad. I often, at least lately, ponder why that is. Sometimes I think that life never gets too good, or too "perfect" becuase if it did, I may lose my reliance on the One who gave the goodness. And I never want to be that way. I suppose life never gets too bad to keep me from blaming Him and turning away. I find myself ever thankful for the balance, ever thankful that things are not in my fragile hold, but His.