I climbed further: the end was in sight. I reached the top of the peak; only to cry out in disappointment. There was yet another valley before my eyes. This was not the end. Night was falling, and I had no hope of making it to the plateau.
As the sand crumbled beneath my feet while giving way to the low lands of the valley I fell to my knees and cried out, and I heard my voice echo back from the darkness beyond.
"Why did You bring me here, only to let me end up in this bitter darkness? I cannot see; I cannot understand. What are You trying to teach me?"

Crickets and fans sound in my ear
I wait for dawn's rays to appear
But pain cannot be kept at bay
I try to push the fog away
And onwards through the haze I see
That sleep may make its way to me
And then the beast draws near again
Insomnia is labeled "sin"
It's dreaded force to me denies
Blessed sleep and still it decries
That I must be awake at night
While rest is scared away by sight

Now I ponder and wonder why
A man thinks best to take his life
Thinks to end his conscience' strife
His hopeless fingers grip the knife

There is no love to make him thrive
It hurts to breath; to be alive
He's lost his faith, he's lost his drive
It is not worth the pain to strive

It's become a matter of time
Because of this he starts the climb
From conscience to justify crime
But then he hears a quiet rhyme

Days of pain count as days of grace
Days of joy can do an about-face
If we do not watch ourselves and learn
Our strength is not something that you earn
It's given to us, for fear to flee
In my days of pain I've come to see
That a weak body can hold much strength
If only you'll look above, at length
You'll find a day of grace for you
If you trust His word, holy and true
You'll know the blessing of silent tears
Given in moments of pain and fears
There are worse stories; you can compare

1. Mundane

the bleachy grit of
Comet!
scruffs away at the
blood-red chili stain in my
father’s kitchen sink;

the washcloth is oozing and
I can’t breathe through
my nose—I think I’m
allergic to bleach—my skin
is turning splotchy red and
tingles every time I move

and no matter how hard I scrub
this stupid stain isn’t coming out.

2. Changes

I.
all of the red brick neighborhoods
I once loved
now seem empty
absent
withdrawn

The last several months have been full of adventure, heartache, joy, and learning to lean on the father as a few of my friends and I have spent time studying and living overseas together. Here are a few of my thoughts as our time drew to a close.
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***I ADDED A TON TO THIS. IT'S ABOUT TWICE AS LONG AS IT WAS BEFORE. PLEASE CRITIQUE***

"Hello."

"Oh. Hi. You look familiar...have we met before?"

"I don't think so. I've seen you around at this conference before. At least I'm pretty sure I have."

She tilted her head to one side.

"Ohhh that must be it. I've been here every year since they started this conference back in 2012."

"Cool! So have I. My name is Mark. Mark Barton."

He shook her hand.

"Melissa Grey. Nice to meet you!"

Smiles.

Looking back on days gone by
On carefree days of youth
On summer days of simple pleasures
And winter days of snow

Barefoot days in glorious pastures
Berry pails at my knee
Picking yellow wildflowers
Clenched in an eight-year-old fist.

Dreams filled my brunette head
With fantasy and tales
They swept me far to days ahead
Of my life that God would give.

Dreams of future, ambitious goals
I was certain I’d attain
Dreams of wealth and high applause
Respectful fear and awe.

"Do you love me?"

"Why do you ask?"

He tickled her.

"Stop it. You're silly. Do you?"

"Of course. You know I do."

"I just like to make sure you still do."

"Why would I ever stop?"

She chewed on the inside of her lip before responding.

"What if...I become ugly or sick?"

"I didn't marry you for your good looks, dearest, and I didn't marry you for your health. I married you for your heart and soul."

"What if we can't have children?"

Dad left.

A flag came back.

At first I did not understand why everyone was crying. I saw Daddy fast asleep in his uniform, like he always was when he came home from the grocery store. Of course, back then, he would be in his jeans and red polo shirt. He used to kick off his heavy shoes and collapse on the couch and fall fast asleep. I would lie down on his chest and his arm would surround me, all warm and safe. He would not even open his eyes. Then he would wake bright eyed and ready to play. He loved me, I could tell.