Written - 2-12-10
I turn the key and walk in, I can smell the sweet aroma of dinner.
You look over your shoulder from the stove and smile - a warm welcome.
I hurry to you and give you a quick kiss, hoping you can't tell.
But, even the smell of dinner cannot mask the smell of a man that is not you.
I hurry off to change, hoping to keep the evening moving along.
You call down the hall - dinner is done. Your voice's tone marked with a tinge of pain.
Dinner, a kiss, a long embrace, how can you not know by now?
But this is not the first time, nor the same lover - its become something of a sickly familiar routine.
But, it has been, what seems like forever since the last time. It is an improvement.
You never asked why and I'm not sure I could have an answer myself.
He wasn't a good lover - you know my body unlike any other.
His eyes didn't light up with anything but lust - no match for your tender passion.
He didn't even smell good - an old shirt of yours lays next to me when you're gone so I can sleep.
So why? I don't know. I never do.
Your friends warned you long ago - If she did it once, she will do it again - you simply said you loved me. They called you a fool.
And now, sitting across the table from you, I dare not see if that love still lingers in your eyes.
I hurriedly finish the meal - my favorite - and rush to leave, unable to bear my guilt and pain any longer.
But as I get up you reach for my hand, squeeze it gently, and let me go.
I retreat to the shower, hoping to at least get the smell of my lover out of my hair, my skin, my soul.
I look up from brushing my hair to see you in the doorway, watching me.
For the first time since I arrived our eyes meet; and yes - the love I have always known is still there.
You walk over and wrap your arms around me. You simply whisper 'I love you, my wife, my beautiful bride.'
My tears, my broken spirit, my weakened body say more in that moment than a simple 'I'm sorry,', no matter how sincere and genuine they would be.
There will be time enough for that later, but for now, I collapse into the arms of a fool, who, with all I have done to him, still loves me like the day we were married.
©Kristen Garcia 7/2010
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Token of My Love
A lover far away with only a promise of 'soon' to when you'll actually be in their arms again.
Words from them you replay over and over again in your mind that bring a smile to your face.
A voice who's melody reaches into the crevices of your soul when time is found to enter into such conversations.
Their spirit you can feel from far away, through their words and their mere voice and it eases the pain of not being close enough to feel their true touch.
And then, one day a letter appears - a token of the lover's affection. Something you can hold that they held. Something that bears a mark that only they can place on an object. A piece of them you can put near your heart and in a moment, feel their embrace once more.
The preciousness of that object to the one who receives it is immeasurable. It is something they will never let go of. They will cling to it with all they have as it is the one thing from their lover that imparts a piece of their heart to their beloved - never to be released from their grip.
Whether a letter, a picture, a small token of any kind - the presence of the lover is still imparted. And for a moment, all the distance that physically separates two spirits is erased and an embrace across time and space is created.
Take and eat - this is my Body.
Take and drink - this is my Blood.
An embrace across time and space to my Beloved where all of Heaven and Hell and Earth can be erased for a moment and you can feel My embrace once more.
Soon. I Am coming to you soon, my love.
©Kristen Garcia 12/29/2011
Words from them you replay over and over again in your mind that bring a smile to your face.
A voice who's melody reaches into the crevices of your soul when time is found to enter into such conversations.
Their spirit you can feel from far away, through their words and their mere voice and it eases the pain of not being close enough to feel their true touch.
And then, one day a letter appears - a token of the lover's affection. Something you can hold that they held. Something that bears a mark that only they can place on an object. A piece of them you can put near your heart and in a moment, feel their embrace once more.
The preciousness of that object to the one who receives it is immeasurable. It is something they will never let go of. They will cling to it with all they have as it is the one thing from their lover that imparts a piece of their heart to their beloved - never to be released from their grip.
Whether a letter, a picture, a small token of any kind - the presence of the lover is still imparted. And for a moment, all the distance that physically separates two spirits is erased and an embrace across time and space is created.
Take and eat - this is my Body.
Take and drink - this is my Blood.
An embrace across time and space to my Beloved where all of Heaven and Hell and Earth can be erased for a moment and you can feel My embrace once more.
Soon. I Am coming to you soon, my love.
©Kristen Garcia 12/29/2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A Skyline Drive
Toss me the keys.
Sit back and relax. Look all around you.
See that? How about that?
Look at all the beauty around you that you missed because you were too busy looking at the road ahead - hairpin turns, looking out for obstacles. So much beauty you didn't get to take in the first time around.
So busy keeping watch that you never got to enjoy the views and the simple, precious world around you.
Too focused to let go and let it surround you.
All that energy exerted until you couldn't see the forest from the trees.
Take a deep breath. Don't look forward at the curves in the road ahead. I know the road well.
Just breathe. Find the beginnings of comfort as I worry about the winding road ahead.
Close your eyes. Take a moment to let go of your anxiety - of your death grip of control. I won't let anything happen - you're safe when you're with me. Simply enjoy the places I will take us.
Maybe even rest enough - trust me enough - to maybe, just maybe, get a wink of sleep while I take us for a ride. Can you trust me enough for that?
Refresh. Restore. Let go. Breathe in deep. Soak in the beauty - let it move in your heart.
Will you let me drive?
Toss me the keys.
©Kristen Garcia 9/8/2011
Sit back and relax. Look all around you.
See that? How about that?
Look at all the beauty around you that you missed because you were too busy looking at the road ahead - hairpin turns, looking out for obstacles. So much beauty you didn't get to take in the first time around.
So busy keeping watch that you never got to enjoy the views and the simple, precious world around you.
Too focused to let go and let it surround you.
All that energy exerted until you couldn't see the forest from the trees.
Take a deep breath. Don't look forward at the curves in the road ahead. I know the road well.
Just breathe. Find the beginnings of comfort as I worry about the winding road ahead.
Close your eyes. Take a moment to let go of your anxiety - of your death grip of control. I won't let anything happen - you're safe when you're with me. Simply enjoy the places I will take us.
Maybe even rest enough - trust me enough - to maybe, just maybe, get a wink of sleep while I take us for a ride. Can you trust me enough for that?
Refresh. Restore. Let go. Breathe in deep. Soak in the beauty - let it move in your heart.
Will you let me drive?
Toss me the keys.
©Kristen Garcia 9/8/2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Baptize the Blaze
The older I get the more beautiful I become.
The fires and snares meant to scar have only refined away the layers that hid the life beneath.
Old is torn away and the new is smooth as river rock tossed by the waves for decades.
The softening of wisdom, the quickening of response, the warmth of a heart rebuilt.
Dreams that were forgotten - for the pain of hoping for them was too much to bear - renewed with a fire in an instant.
Tears of a wrenched heart baptize the blaze but never again shall the fire go out.
Incense dances up, filling the air with the lingering reminder of the promises made that remain ahead.
Nearly transformed - barely an image of the life before - unrecognizable to the things in the past. Changed in such a way that the chains from the old can no longer cling.
Days ahead of pain and joy, laughter and hurt, dancing and love.
Every tear; Every shattered piece of heart; every cry of deep-welled emotion - they lay the cobblestones to road that ends in peace - to dreams made real.
©Kristen Garcia 6/2011
The fires and snares meant to scar have only refined away the layers that hid the life beneath.
Old is torn away and the new is smooth as river rock tossed by the waves for decades.
The softening of wisdom, the quickening of response, the warmth of a heart rebuilt.
Dreams that were forgotten - for the pain of hoping for them was too much to bear - renewed with a fire in an instant.
Tears of a wrenched heart baptize the blaze but never again shall the fire go out.
Incense dances up, filling the air with the lingering reminder of the promises made that remain ahead.
Nearly transformed - barely an image of the life before - unrecognizable to the things in the past. Changed in such a way that the chains from the old can no longer cling.
Days ahead of pain and joy, laughter and hurt, dancing and love.
Every tear; Every shattered piece of heart; every cry of deep-welled emotion - they lay the cobblestones to road that ends in peace - to dreams made real.
©Kristen Garcia 6/2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
To You
It is in the smallest of moments that our real selves are revealed.
When the truest things of a heart become fodder for ridicule by those who claim to love you it eases the pain of walking away. Sometimes you don't look back - and that's OK.
To stand alone is greater than walking exposed in a masquerade. To walk alone better than trying to associate with those who are found in the off-guard moments to be untrue.
Cling to dreams, no matter how small - no matter how elaborate. Hope is not in vain, dreams are not energy wasted.
Know who loves you; know who truly doesn't. Remember that truth, when revealed, brings joy in the midst of pain - in the midst of sorrow - in the midst of loneliness - even if it doesn't erase.
Reach out to those who say they love you - but if invitations fail to be received keep on going. If they are true to you they know how to find you.
If they know you the way they say they do they will pursue the blessings they have from the time with you. Therein lies a test of faithfulness.
Allow yourself to be pursued. The one who sees the treasure you are will stop at nothing to attain it. Make them work for you, but do not frustrate them unless necessary.
Do not lose heart. Walk with your head held high. Kick the enemy's ass. Never lose the brightness in your eyes.
©Kristen Garcia 5/2011
When the truest things of a heart become fodder for ridicule by those who claim to love you it eases the pain of walking away. Sometimes you don't look back - and that's OK.
To stand alone is greater than walking exposed in a masquerade. To walk alone better than trying to associate with those who are found in the off-guard moments to be untrue.
Cling to dreams, no matter how small - no matter how elaborate. Hope is not in vain, dreams are not energy wasted.
Know who loves you; know who truly doesn't. Remember that truth, when revealed, brings joy in the midst of pain - in the midst of sorrow - in the midst of loneliness - even if it doesn't erase.
Reach out to those who say they love you - but if invitations fail to be received keep on going. If they are true to you they know how to find you.
If they know you the way they say they do they will pursue the blessings they have from the time with you. Therein lies a test of faithfulness.
Allow yourself to be pursued. The one who sees the treasure you are will stop at nothing to attain it. Make them work for you, but do not frustrate them unless necessary.
Do not lose heart. Walk with your head held high. Kick the enemy's ass. Never lose the brightness in your eyes.
©Kristen Garcia 5/2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Untitled 1
There comes a time in every story where the hero begins winning the battles;
A point in a treasure hunt when a jewel is revealed;
A place where long-held dreams move out of the heart and into reality;
A day where the beauty of a sunset outweighs the clarity of a New Moon sky.
©Kristen Garcia 5/2011
A point in a treasure hunt when a jewel is revealed;
A place where long-held dreams move out of the heart and into reality;
A day where the beauty of a sunset outweighs the clarity of a New Moon sky.
©Kristen Garcia 5/2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Back to Good
Laying in bed, head pounding
Too sick to stand, too tired to sleep.
But alas the running of little feet,
The happy hollers from three rooms away,
That change on a dime to disgruntled screams
Are only a sign that at least a couple of us in the house
Are back to good after a long week's mess.
Selah
La. Sra.
©Kristen Garcia 2/2011
Too sick to stand, too tired to sleep.
But alas the running of little feet,
The happy hollers from three rooms away,
That change on a dime to disgruntled screams
Are only a sign that at least a couple of us in the house
Are back to good after a long week's mess.
Selah
La. Sra.
©Kristen Garcia 2/2011
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