(Two journal excerpts.)

~

December 6th, 2014

Words of a lifetime, what will they be?
Sharp? Gentle? Constrained, or free?
Will they bring back tender memories,
Or a harsh word ill conceived?

A nice word fitly spoken,
A rebuke or a whine;
What will one remember,
When one thinks back in time?

Be careful oh tongue, what you say,
A harsh word will drive someone away.
Will to be sweet, don't let your will sway;
God will reward you in heaven someday.

*******For those of you who have read my short story titled Greater Love this is the story told by Jonathan. He goes into much more detail about things that went on, but then again he had more to tell. :)*******

Wish I Could
I can't take my mind off of you, 
And oh I wish I could, 
Erase the memory of your face, 
Eyes, 
Looking at me as if I had stabbed, 
Deep into your heart, 
And oh it's the worst feeling, 
The feeling of breaking someone's heart, 
Especially a heart that's proclaimed affection,
Breaking someone's heart, 
Once they've said those three words. 

Sheepish Skirting Syndrome
Sometimes I wanna be, 
That girl again, 
I wanna see if it might work out, 
Maybe this time. 
Some nights it's hard to fight, 
Hard to revert to other thoughts, 
To ones that wouldn't compromise my heart.
Some how I must not have learned, 
Which seems ridiculous considering, 
The pain I've gone through to learn, 
How to guard my heart. 
Is it so impossible, 
To hold the key that protects my mind? 
Is it unfair to ask of myself, 
To just keep calm and be happy? 

I. Roots
We’re making plans like I will see him again.
He’s acting like I will.
But where he’s going isn’t good. It isn’t good.
An airplane flies overhead and that’s where he’ll be in eleven days,
in the sky, flying through our uncondensed stratosphere,
thirty thousand feet above the ground, which is where I am planted
like a seed
spreading my roots and growing up,
learning to accept that my friends don’t have to stay planted with me.

I walked up the church steps, butterflies already fluttering around in my stomach. A few kids admired my guitar case, which was covered in stickers.

“Thanks,” I said, “but it’s actually not mine...it’s my teacher’s one.”

They nodded, and went back to their game of chase-around-the seats-without-tripping-over-them game. I turned my attention to the programme of the day which I snatched from a nearby table. I gasped when I saw my name; my song was fourth on the sheet.

I saw my friends, who came up from behind and hugged me.

It took me three tries to get around the corner to the café in the morning. I didn’t want things to be different with Emily, but knew I couldn’t ignore what had happened.
Ema was waiting for me at the window and ran to me when I opened the door. “You’re back!” She cried.
I picked her up and held her close.
“Why weren’t you here yesterday?”
“I had to work through some things,” I said. “But I’m back now.”
“Good. Mama wants you to put fliers up for the concert today.”
I turned to look at Emily, behind the counter. She nodded.

Rain that patters not the roof,
Rain that lulls me, soothes me, too
Rain that sings a lullaby,
Rain that makes me want to cry.
Rain that makes me want to sing,
Rain finds joy in everything.
Rain that is goodly for the earth,
Rain that is moody, or full of mirth.
Rain that God gives us in His love;
Showers of blessings from above.