I dug deep
Friendships will crash. They will die and fade over time.
I dug deep, a well for myself. So severe that I leave no tears. No water drips nor pours from my face.
Oh how I got over dealing with the dried breadcrumbs left for me. I got over wondering the whys and even the goes.
The stories I believed in, I even listened to. Defended as well. In those damaging moments I recognize how much I reasoned with myself. Knowing such friendships are just games.
A long tiring game of charades. Long lists were created. I realized just how much I HATED that game. And silently I played along. Now, I just laugh thinking how slow a sloth is and I was a match.
Crashing, tumbling down. Trembling in the midnight air. Striving to cling onto something, friendship wise. Anything tangible. Only to see it was just that the cold midnight darkness I held.
No longer could I see myself mattering in this old worn shoe of friendship. I didn't matter anymore.
The depth, the expressions the hopes - no one benefited but the joker laughing with his pole.
I was just a flick of a reel. A bit of a stage or cel in a movie. A rear view sight passing along in the cold winter night.
I should have understood. Yet it took a long time for me to really understand that parting. And still every once in a while I cry for the lost time spent wasted on wondering.
Oh how the waves crash inside a mind. How the dirt sticks to your hands and feet. Wedging itself deep into your pores and under your nails. Stained. Crusted. Paled.
A mess. Just a mess.
And as I took the long road back, caked in mud and grime all I could do was stand tall. Back arched but weakened.
I saw the need to drop in a prayer. To be heard even if it was just a crackling of a bad reception. The attempt was real.
To see Jehovah push action before me. To watch him give me roots and grooved stones to help me climb. I was grateful and in awe.
To this day I still have caked mud behind my ears and bits in the curve of my Achilles tendon but I know the help of being free is soon to be given.
So with a broken friendship and a distant child, I don't know how Jehovah even wanted me back. Yet all is given is courage and love. So in this very moment I start by giving it back.
Throwing out to all those faded love, patience and encouragement. For faith builds you and love molds you. Be gentle and kind to the true you. So who knows what kind of compassion lays before you.
All that I ask of the one who was a friend once, to find compassion and agape one day. For I will be grateful when I sit at the table of Jehovah with family.
I dug deep, a well for myself. So severe that I leave no tears. No water drips nor pours from my face.
Oh how I got over dealing with the dried breadcrumbs left for me. I got over wondering the whys and even the goes.
The stories I believed in, I even listened to. Defended as well. In those damaging moments I recognize how much I reasoned with myself. Knowing such friendships are just games.
A long tiring game of charades. Long lists were created. I realized just how much I HATED that game. And silently I played along. Now, I just laugh thinking how slow a sloth is and I was a match.
Crashing, tumbling down. Trembling in the midnight air. Striving to cling onto something, friendship wise. Anything tangible. Only to see it was just that the cold midnight darkness I held.
No longer could I see myself mattering in this old worn shoe of friendship. I didn't matter anymore.
The depth, the expressions the hopes - no one benefited but the joker laughing with his pole.
I was just a flick of a reel. A bit of a stage or cel in a movie. A rear view sight passing along in the cold winter night.
I should have understood. Yet it took a long time for me to really understand that parting. And still every once in a while I cry for the lost time spent wasted on wondering.
Oh how the waves crash inside a mind. How the dirt sticks to your hands and feet. Wedging itself deep into your pores and under your nails. Stained. Crusted. Paled.
A mess. Just a mess.
And as I took the long road back, caked in mud and grime all I could do was stand tall. Back arched but weakened.
I saw the need to drop in a prayer. To be heard even if it was just a crackling of a bad reception. The attempt was real.
To see Jehovah push action before me. To watch him give me roots and grooved stones to help me climb. I was grateful and in awe.
To this day I still have caked mud behind my ears and bits in the curve of my Achilles tendon but I know the help of being free is soon to be given.
So with a broken friendship and a distant child, I don't know how Jehovah even wanted me back. Yet all is given is courage and love. So in this very moment I start by giving it back.
Throwing out to all those faded love, patience and encouragement. For faith builds you and love molds you. Be gentle and kind to the true you. So who knows what kind of compassion lays before you.
All that I ask of the one who was a friend once, to find compassion and agape one day. For I will be grateful when I sit at the table of Jehovah with family.
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