#exposedpoetic

[exposedpoetic]

Celebrate my accomplishments with me.

[exposedpoetic]

I’ve got messy hair and a crooked smile. I might say the wrong things for a while. Though my love comes free and my jokes are cheap, I’m not easy to get and even harder to keep. I like the way the sky catches on fire at night when the sun goes to bed and the moon fades into sight. And nothing makes me dance like a spooky thunderstorm. I’ll shed my shoes and insecurities, swaying in the rain as I transform. My body tingles at the smell of the breeze through the fields - a safety net around me, an impenetrable shield. A newfound energy rises into my heart. I breathe out a heavy sigh and my doubts suddenly depart. Instead of writing down the things I’m most grateful for, I fill myself with them and slowly begin to pour. I thank God for the mountains and for the valleys, too. I thank Him for never leaving me, for seeing things through. And I ask that as I discover myself, He helps me to love me like I do everyone else. When my tears start to rise, I say “Amen.” A hurricane brews inside me that I cannot comprehend. So many years of darkness and trying to break free from chains; now the light is pleasantly blinding but I’ve got no words to explain. The clouds are three dimensional; the stars have started winking. I’ve finally begun to stand tall and speak up instead of silently shrinking. It occurs to me that what I’ve been searching for has been here all along. It’s the courage to unapologetically sing my own song. I took the long way home, as I often do, and I don’t regret it because, on the way, I was found by You. Sometimes I wish things had been different and I’m unhappy with where I’m at, but I’m now able to see that it’s more about the journey than where you eventually hang your hat. If the breeze and sunset, clouds and rain, gratitude and contentment is all there is, then I’ll be completely honest: I’m glad I stuck around for this. I’ve got messy hair and a crooked smile. I might say the wrong things for a while. Though my love comes free and my jokes are cheap, I’m worth the price you pay to know me deep.

-exposedpoetic.

[exposedpoetic]

I start where I’m at - a collection of pieces from my past. I inhale my intent: to come alive and rest in the present. I picture the me I someday hope to be and come a little closer with each sip of coffee. I build my faith prayer by prayer, feeling arms around me when there’s no one else there. And I relax into the notion that everything happens just as it’s supposed to. I realize it doesn’t make me worthless to take time to heal the part of me that’s hurting. Maybe, on the contrary, self-care postpones my obituary. You can’t pour from an empty cup; you’ve got to water your own garden. Cliche or not, you need to recharge your battery often. It seems that when you do, you allow yourself a different view. Sights and colors start to blend; you create what was once only pretend. And each time you reappear, you’re a little more sincere. Shedding the skin of the girl you once were, of the responsibility of being his daughter. And hers, too. Don’t you see it yet? It’s the truth. Only they lost when they didn’t choose you. You are precisely the woman someone is wishing for. Maybe your wish will collide with theirs, if it’s in the cards. In time, you’ll be everything you ever needed as a child. Your fears and doubts will finally be laid to rest and reconciled. Until you get there, please don’t forget: If life is a melody, you’re someone’s favorite lyric.

-exposedpoetic.

[exposedpoetic]

love your life.

If you tell me that I can’t, I’m going to do it louder. If you tell me that I won’t, I’m going to do it stronger. If you tell me it’s impossible, I’ll show that you’re wrong. I don’t need a dad, and I don’t need my mom. I’m surely not saying I can go it all alone, but there’s something to be said for figuring things out on your own. I don’t have to be a people-pleaser anymore. I don’t have to be a shapeshifter, even if you choose to keep score. See, I don’t have to be anyone other than me, and she’s allowed to change as many times as she needs. I have friends who listen when the going gets rough and the ones who challenge me when I’m ready to give up. I have friends who send me lyrics knowing the music will soothe my soul. And friends who clap from the back when I’m brave enough to get bold. Maybe it’s cliche, but I understand that family isn’t blood. No, it’s about the ones who hold you up when you don’t think you’re enough. It’s easier to run without weights tied to my ankles. I can actually see, in my own reflection, the light in my eye that twinkles. I’m excited about what lies ahead and what God has yet to show me. And I accept that, to stay on the right path, sometimes He might have to slow me. But I want to see the world for all the beauty that it holds. What better way than to be determined to stick around and watch my life unfold? We’ve been told that when God takes away, He gives much more in return. And we can be rather quick to doubt Him when we’re feeling lonely and hurt. But if you can learn to trust and see each blip as another chance, you’ll quit crying in the rain, kick your shoes off, and start to dance. They say it’s about perspective, and I say they’re right. Once you start to love yourself, you start to love your life.

-exposedpoetic.

[exposedpoetic]

So sick of face masks & love songs.

[exposedpoetic]

When I see a shooting star, I still wish for you. Every four leaf clover that I find, every dandelion I blew. I’ve searched for genies at the bottom of bottles, broken every wishbone in your name. Every birthday candle I’ve ever blown out. Every stray eyelash on my face. I grew up thinking wishing was the best that I could do, so I subconsciously created a better version of you. And now when I get feeling like I really need my mom, I reach for a person who was never there at all. So I stopped picking up pennies and asked myself what I could do. Maybe if I was a better daughter, you’d be better too. I bent over backwards and walked through fire all for you. I told you how I loved you, and you told me it wasn’t true. So I took a step back; I walked away. You said that you wanted me out of your face. And less than five minutes of being gone, you said, “You can’t do this to me. I’m your mom.” Your guilt knocks away on the door to my chest with a battering ram marked by your royal crest. You want me to stay quiet and keep painting flowers, expecting your voice to leave me cowering. I step out of line. It’s “off with her head!” The queen only looks angry in red. Maybe it’s inevitably true: nothing makes sense with or without you.

-exposedpoetic.

[exposedpoetic]

When my hands were cuffed and my ankles weighted and I was tossed to the ocean floor, I happened upon a truth that I hadn’t ever before. The deeper I sank, the faster my lungs filled, and I grasped at a foxhole prayer. Promises made in exchange for help because there wasn’t a second to spare. And in my helpless state, I came to understand: prayer is the most desperate form of love known to man.

I fell to my knees. I thanked God for his mercy and grace. Gratitude, milk, and honey all smell like they taste. I started seeing colors where everything had been gray. I cried the happiest and saddest tears when I didn’t know what to say. Yet I knew He was hearing my pleas, so I kept dropping to my knees. Down there on the ground, I came to find: prayer is the rawest form of love alive.

I love her so deeply; my heart is torn in pieces. The seams have been sewn over and the fabric is riddled with creases. I know it’s time to step back and loosen my grip. But my heart aches one last time for the mom I wish she could have been. Anger bubbles up inside when I think of all she’s done and said, but I take a breath and whisper the words that have gathered in my head. With my beaten heart silently breaking, it all starts to make sense. Prayer is the purest form of love we can possibly dispense.

When I look around, I see flowers in my garden. I see softness and beauty where I’d once been hardened. I can’t thank Him enough for the blessings overflowing. For lessons and tools to keep myself growing. For the gardeners who stop by to plant new seeds and also the ones who subtly remove the weeds. Down in the earth as I reach for the sun, I thank God for all He’s doing and has done. In this state of complete peace, it’s made clear: Prayer is the form of love most sincere.

-exposedpoetic.

[exposedpoetic]

musings.

Oh, but I need to know. Tell me, are you aware of my ambition?

I ooze phrases and rhymes, droplets of ink, bleeding of my own volition.

I write to unshackle my emotions and provide them with definition.

Did you know your perspective could change with clever juxtapostition?

When the pressure is high enough to create a gleaming and unbreakable diamond,

I thank God for bringing me a muse when I didn’t think I’d find one.

It’s gratuitous nourishment in times of unprecedented famine.

The recognition that you are enough even after you’ve been abandoned.

My hope is to reach you. Not to be a taker, but to be a giver.

I wished upon a shooting star that my poems would make you quiver.

With each verse you read, I grow a little more exposed.

I give myself away with every line that I compose.

And yet, as I sit here, with my pen in my hand,

I avoid punctuation that brings my unmasking to an end.

Now I need to know. Tell me, do you ache to feel my essence?

Would you judge me if, to keep you here, I wrote just one more sentence?

If there ever was a map to the inside of my heart,

My pen against a blank page would be the place to start.

-exposedpoetic.