I am not sleeping

  Bubbles, bubbles and more bubbles. Aroma engulfs
my senses of musk melons, cinnamon and citrus.
Yummy.

  Soaking aches off the soul and raising the spirit
up one more cloud. Ah yes a happy giggle erupts
from my lips as I grin big.

  Little sighs ripple throughout soul. Leaning back
I close my eyes. Recalling little girls talking, on the
floor, about what doll is better.

   Oh how the tears slide. Skipping over another
memory. One family looking down at white and red.
Holding onto a trail of roses and calla lilies.

   Children laughing, rolling around and cracking
up at a family gathering. Oh how I pray to Jehovah
to change the scenery. Empty the mind for just a
moment so the senses can completely relax.

   Hot steam rises. The mind echoes the low exhale
by clearing the dirty chalkboard. Still spots noticed
but clean.

   One eye opens to raise a hand, adding more
piping hot water. Deeply inhaling I thank Jehovah
for hearing the silent prayer.

   No longer are the tears trailing down freckled,
high cheekbones. No longer is there sadness. No
longer is there anything but peace. All knowing
what, where my missing family is: sleeping.

   I shakily start anew with eyes open. Blinking
back the hurt, the sorrow, the emptiness of no
sibling to fight with and swallowing the
stubbornness to be too strong, to stand tall all by
self.

   Just one time I feel super weak. Not sure if I even
want to get out. Maybe drift under water and fade
away. I cannot do that. I cannot just give away
all that hard work for selfishness.

  Jehovah teaches me to push on, to lean on him
for support. I would not ask anyone, not even
you, to comfort me. That is who I am. No one sees
my real tears, not even my mother sees them.
Only Jehovah. He sees and hears. My heart beating
faster.

   The warmth absorbing into skin. Moisture keeps
me sound, grounded.

   Awakening self out of a lost moment, I drain all
that is necessary through slotted holes.

  Blue cotton catches creamy white. Comforts.
Warms. Limbs entertain red solids and floral.
Locks of burnt amber lay damp down back.
Tickling skin with extra drops of water. A braid
is knotted.

  Now back to the flat screen. Typing away the words
that needed a voice. Screaming onto a pretend
piece of paper. Hear the clacking of keys?

  See the words enter your eyesight? Read my
story, truth. Feel who I am, for just a moment.

  Yes I need a hug. Just one. Just one.

  Still I am stronger. Holding tightly to the
realization I am here because Jehovah found me.
Keeps me with him.

           I am not sleeping.

   So smile for me. Yes that encourages.
Thank you for hearing, reading me. Thank you for
loving me.