These Days

Can we talk… no… later… ok but I have something important to say…

I’ll see you later…  

Have you ever wondered who really listens?  Who really wants to hear?  And once you’ve said it… who really took it to heart…  I write because I can’t speak… I hold myself back in times when I wish I could just release…  how many times have I wanted to just scream.  Scream because that’s the only thing I could do to express the frustration, the anger, the sadness within.  So much of me is lifeless… so much of me is dying… and I can’t seem to add water to it to revive me…  its a withering flower that has decided to die… like a desert when it rains its like a basin where nothing is absorbed…  the basin seems to get bigger and bigger… I was somewhat happy and now I can’t seem to hold that smile… its like I live with a countdown to the end… nothing to refresh the page.  Nothing around to change the outcome…  

If people say things are they way they are then why can’t I be the same… why can’t I just allow myself to be me instead I pretend around people so that they accept me in their presence.  I don’t speak out of turn, I don’t try to interrupt, I don’t try to make a ripple in the water.  I try to be as still as the waters, as frozen as the lakes in the winter, and only moved if the wind decides to brush through my leaves…  as if I’m living my life floating from place to place.  Not really settling anywhere… not even in my own home.  I don’t feel like I belong anywhere.  There has never been a place where I can be.

Well there was only one time where I felt like the real me… when I danced.  When I felt the music and danced for Him… now where has my dance gone.  Instead it is a ritual that I do when I feel the music.  It’s as if its a choreograph movement instead a creative movement made to worship…  where have I gone.  Where have I fallen to.  When will I rise...