I don’t know when it happened,
when my shackles suddenly fell free.
But the day it happened was so sweet
because You had finally released

Little did I know,
[all that time ago]
that I was keeping myself locked away,
[safe and sound]
Until I realized one day
that my freedom had been found.

It wasn’t under the bed
or behind the couch.
It wasn’t hidden in an overhead
but instead placed in my heart
[safe and sound].

I never knew that it had never been gone,
just tucked behind a wall,
[safe and sound]
But always around
waiting for a new dawn.

Waiting for the watching eyes
and those scary words
to seek another prize.
Another target…

As suddenly as it began,
[as rudely as it started]
I was no longer a thought.
I was only a distance memory.
Like a hazy horizon,
you can’t seem to remember clearly.
Just cobwebs cluttering your view of today.

And when that sunny side-up
decided to finally rise,
I took a deep breath, filled my cup,
and sipped deeply of the azure skies
that freedom allows.

Thank You for letting Me go…


Without Grace

I am like a chicken with my head cut off.

It’s only 3 months into 2012, a year I thought I had every handled when it all changed.

It totally felt like it was going to be my year, the year in which I got back all I lost. It was going to be the year in which I found myself, in which I knew what I wanted and how I was going to achieve those dreams.

I had it! My hand was firmly grasped around those strings tethered to the balloons of all the pretty wishes and thoughts I had. In vibrant colors of blue and purple and red and yellow.

I’ve lost them now. An unexpected shot to the heart sent my hands to my chest for cover and let my dreams drift off into the air.

Letting go was a necessity for that moment. I needed to protect myself, to guard my heart a little. But now that the danger has passed, I’m reaching and grasping at the disappearing ends of all I felt was important. Of all the dreams I held dear.

I’m tripping and crashing as I chase after all these things I worked so hard for. Bumping along, falling down and scraping my knees, I find myself stumbling as if blind.

Without grace I fumble to once again feel the tug of my dreams in my hand as the winds sweep by. I should never had let go. I’ll never do it again. So I stagger along, reaching and jumping to grip onto the ends of my dreams, to latch on and hold tight, never to let go again.

I have hope. Hope that I’ll hold them again.