my attempt at blending the arts I cherish

it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you

winter 1

winter 2Eyes blinking slowly, my mind sinks back into my surroundings. I find myself stretched along the edge of my bed in the middle of the day, just breathing. It’s quiet, and my whole body is full of aching; ache in my bones, ache in my muscles, ache in my head, ache in my trembling heart.

I roll over onto my side and my shoulders crack with a sigh. My thoughts wander again, leaving me here. But as they go– searching the rooms of memories, tasks to accomplish, flashes of expression, ancient Greek tales, and French verbs–not much is found, except for some dilapidated boxes and butterfly-like scraps of paper.

Where am I? Where am I to be found? 

But the sun catches my eyes, and I hear a little girl, from somewhere far away, songfully shout: “You have such a great many things to be thankful for, won’t you come and count them up with me?”

hearts on jean-knees//brothers sing loudly//bosses that care//strong-armed hugs//women named Lauren//the upstairs of a creaky home at quiet dawn//jokes upon jokes upon jokes//breakfast before the sun knows to rise//chalkboards//educated conversations//snickerdoodles//puns//internal wrestling//kindred spirits//freedom.

winter 3

spring 1

with palms curved towards the ceiling, I bashfully try to thank Him for all of it, for I am unworthy of any ounce of it.

“The unthankful heart discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings.” H.W. Beecher


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This entry was posted on March 13, 2013 by in Musings, Photographic Sights and tagged , , , .

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