Who Cries Besides I?

Does the grass cry, when pasture and lawns are being mowed?

Do trees cry out to God, asking to ease the pain when being chopped?

Do flowers scream when being plucked?

If not then what’s wrong with I?

The birds cry out in hunger.

The fish swim to better waters.

Again I ask, who am I?

I’ve never heard a plant cry and beg.

Do they understand their life more than I?

As creation seems more at peace than I.

So who cries besides I, when life plucks it up?

I can’t hear a sound when a tree is struck to the ground.

Lightning strikes and fields go up in billows of smoke.

Submissive, I say to a single strain of grass lying in the palm of my hand.

Yielding to the twist and turns of life.

Creation seems to understand this fickle life more than I.

To the Sun, Star’s and Moon I salute you. How accepting you are of a seemingly brutal fate.

To the trees and fishes, who cries more than I?

Seems they’ve all learned a trick and left me out the mix.

Content with living life as it comes and moves them about.

Aware that they are grass and fish are fish.

Understanding that they must swim to be a fish.

And then there’s me.

Who cries more than I?

Born unsure of my life’s fate.

Unsure of what it is that I’m supposed to do.

Still I cry.

Cry day and night.

I pray, “Lord give me sight throughout my days.”

As the green grass grows and dies, so will I.

Embracing time and life’s seasons.

Creation doesn’t cry in winter.

Things just wither and die.

Is it because they know?

Know that seasons come and go.

Who am I to cry?

The human body was built to take this life.

I have shelter from the wind and storms. The grass doesn’t, and still I cry.

The birds nest outside and up high. I rest low, enclosed and I sleep warm and tight.

Still I cry.

Who cries more than I and my fellow man?

Maybe God as he says we were made in his image.

If I read I may find what makes God cry.

Turns out creation does cry.

It cries out and mourns, bears witness and holds grudges against man.

But we can’t hear.

Funny thought, that creation knows more than I.

More than mankind combined.

For when creation cries, it’s not up to the moon or to one another.

Creations smarter then man, crying out to the creator of the land.

Instead of searching for a human ear.

Look to the grass and how it grows.

Taking every opportunity it gets to grow.

Soaking up the sun when out, resting though the night.

Dying when the time comes.

creation all cries.

But who more than I and all of mankind.

Love Me… I Dont Know How

My fear is that I’m Loveless.

That I don’t have the strength to love someone else.

That I fear rejection so much that I’ll never truely open up to someone.

To this day the 9th of September in the highly esteemed year of 2018.

I’m a broken puzzle, trying to stop myself from scattering my pieces.

At least I can congratulate myself on the ability to make friends.

Someone that I talk to daily; She knows of my secret manipulative ways.

Allowing me to confide in her about my life choices.

But back to my opening statement. I dont know if I’m being rightly cautios.

Or if I’m barring myself from love. All because I have a fear of being unhappy.

Crying at night, wondering where my loved one is! (Hypothetical speaking)

Ducking in fear from my beloved’s, dagerous words stabing my heart. Tearing my emotions down word by word, throwing my past descesions at my face.

(Not to say that I would tolerate such abusive ways)

Refusing to allow me to repent and throw my bad tendencies behind me.

Neither do I want to tell someone all, of my wrongs.

(only for the fear of being judged)

Then when I flip the switch I want to be open, stupindously free; uncover my dark streaks.

I dont think I’m necessarily the worst.

But I hate my down falls passionatley.

Staining my pallet with bitterness.

Upsetting my stomach and causing it to swell…

It makes my insides quiver and ache.

Tople over and under.

I fear that I’m trying to wash away my sins so hard that I’m pushing away any potentially good men. Who are also cleansing their self.

(Not really just think what if.)

I fear it stims from my dedication to self love. Suffering from poor self worth.

My mind goes on and on with estranged situations and variable situations.

If I’m sinning, or struggling with a bad characteristic trait. Then not yet am I rady for a relationship.

Refusing anyone who doesnt seem to have the ability nor capacity to help, keep me away from my addictions.

So I just turn them away.

I don’t know If I can love another, or myself!

Cold Blood

Not bad, but cold.

Slowing my inner flow.

Disturbance to my inner sanctuary.

Deaths knocking at my door

Simply from visiting a neighbor, I grow cold.

Shivers all up and down my spine.

Cold blood, weakened pulse.

Death isn’t easy, neither does it sound trumpets before pouncing upon us.

Seeing deaths got me turning cold. Stirring my spirit, thinking if I’m ready to leave my home.

Say goodbye to my captured soulful life on earth.

Growing up in America you constantly hear how we’re so blessed And God knows best.

But then I think,”What if death was about to hit me dead in my chest. Disrupting the very air I breath”!

Ugh Hugh.

High I swell

Life is short.

But there’s no short phrase telling me how to prepare for death.

Readying me to see it.

Feel it.

And hear about it passing me by.

Deaths got me feeling cold.

As if its forever close.

A shadow hovering igniting my senses.

Occasionally tapping me on the shoulder and pointing at someone else, causing distress.

Forcing my head and my eyes to see.

Then pointing down at his watch.

I squint and stare , but I cant see the hands telling me the time I’ll drop dead.

Deaths got me feeling cold.

Cold blood to the bone.

Death came around and it got me feeling cold.