My night to echo

          Bits and pieces of me want to scream but for what
reason would it justify? Oh dare I even bother?
Clearly not because iffy on what is noteworthy. The eyes
blink in dryness as the need to ask, "what is consistent of
a conversation? What is the "necessity" of being able
to talk to any one person?"

          Ah alas the voice to be heard and yet the voice
remains silent. Hmm. Just the raves that echo inside me,
the right pressure in the right directions that just
cause me to be cynical. To add to the ever growing, laid,
piles of words.

        Just bite them down. Swallowing the itches of
conversation. The holding a bar across the mind.
Striking back at the carefree ways to talk. Still I want to
say words yet weirdness is all that exists in the air. The
waves of thickness coat the lungs and I just close my
mouth before anything exits.

       Clearly I have so much to say, yet is any of worth
the air I breathe? I don't even know. I really just have
to thrust the words into an abyss hoping the rattle
may mean something. So here I sit gathering all into
a poem.

        Stitching up a moment so the day creases the night.
The sighs of the exhaustion draws me away from any
part of longing. The notices of one friend, Jehovah. Ah
the tears slide where the mist hovers. So funny are the
tiny jolts called sniffles and hiccups.

        So disagreeable the redness becomes to an oval
pale face. The watery shades of blue find streaks of
steel hidden beneath. Gaining the courage to stand
straighter, taller before those who impose
questions upon my head.

       "Dear me," I hear my mind echo. Alas I do not
speak it. Forward, forward go the feet until the
destination is placed before me. Then the night opens
and the beauty soaks in. Clarity of letting all go, is
there in the darkening blue skies. Ah how the
"worthy" bits are opened. The songs of joyous tears
rock over the emotions. Chills vibrate as the time
stalls in slow motion.

       Just to hold. A sad thought of saying hello, just
has to wait. It has to be years to come. My time to
wash over the distances that strain us further,
separating until another time. Simple as I know the
resurrection I will be greeted with my loved ones. Still
the ache of the voice heard. True siblings, just so hard
to let go of.

     It is so hard to sit here, shrugging, reading your
words of love, drawing closer still to you O Jehovah. So
much of me just wants to run into your arms for the the
biggest, encouraging hug but there is no family here
that wants to do that regard.

     Just one more thing to endure. Silly as it is seems, I
never really felt alone until yesterday. Not really the alone,
the loneliness people get depressed over just the clarity
that I am the only one in my family standing tall for you.
Oh Jehovah, yes this is the exhaling of a sigh you give
strength for me to endure. Pressing forward.

     Yes it is hard when I go to the meetings where I have
to seek out people, to gain the comfort of love that should
be shown already. Yet I keep doing so because you, oh
Father, Jehovah ask me too. Being the strong woman even
in my weakest moments.

     Funny how I support so many but cannot wait to get
to my car to cry, let it out that no one really saw what
was there, screaming.

      Yes so here I sit, crying. Tears staining my face,
sniffles causing ears to pop and feeling the sharpness
of stabbings inside my mind. Though, my foundation is
what I lean on. My Father, Jehovah still hears my
echoes.

      Yes maybe, though, others are listening. I only
pray there is warmth and not the icey wishy washy
attitudes. I hope then too they understand I need too.
That I too am just one of your children, oh Jehovah.

      Maybe tomorrow will take on a new pattern. Ah,
alas you Jehovah know what the future holds. I can only
pray, hope and sleep until the new sunlight comes.