Friday, June 27, 2014

Five-minute Friday: Lost

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You come home when I'm tucked in bed, wide
awake and teetering on the edge of sleep.
You sit next to my body and I feel your 
sigh before I hear it rolling down, 
and I see it in the curtain of your face pulled 
taut, now drawing open.
I'm too tired to climb inside that sigh and you're too tired
to climb into bed, and so you pat my arm, 
retreat into the shower to wash the day away.

But for a moment before you disappear I search
those eyes, flecks of light under the hood of dark
and hold your gaze just before the breaking moment.
Fingertips reaching through the fence between us,
I cannot bear that space of almost touching,
pull my eyes away and say goodnight.
My body, my face, 
stiff wooden planks adrift in a sea of distant desire
until you leave and I am paper dissolving into saltwater,
and I turn, 
surrender to sleep.

I am carried on the wisps of tired dreams,
lost within your arms in a love without fences.

* * * * *

I sat for awhile, honestly, thinking a jumble of thoughts on today's prompt of "Lost." And this is eventually what won out. Though I feel more exposed than I generally prefer in my writing, I felt compelled
to be brave in the admitting of rough edges and unfinished places.  My marriage, along with everything else in life, is part of an ongoing story of hope and trust and redemption, and that, more than anything, is what I wish to convey here.

Linking with Lisa Jo.
 


16 comments:

  1. This is beautiful and painful and so incredibly powerful. I am beyond thankful for your willingness to be so raw and honest and vulnerable in your writing. Your words speak more than their meanings and touch a place deep inside me, where I wrestle with similar moments in my marriage.

    These words are like a sword of truth: Fingertips reaching through the fence between us,
    I cannot bear that space of almost touching,

    Discovered your words through five-minute-fridays and they are a gift.

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    1. Judith, your words are so generous and kind and affirming, they touch me deeply. I debated whether or not to post this, so thank you for this. For letting me know, too, I'm not alone in these moments. Your presence here is a gift to me.

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  2. This is beautiful, Amber. Thank you.

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  3. This is truly beautiful, and gives me a picture into moments in my own marriage from time to time. Thank you for being willing to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Visiting from the FMF. Have a beautiful weekend.

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    1. It's such a gift, Barbie, to have a writing community that embraces this kind of vulnerability. Thank you for being part of that.

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  4. Gorgeous, as always. We can handle your soul, as much as you're willing to share. 💗

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    1. Thank you, Bri. I always feel heard and seen by you, in the words you share, and that is no small thing.

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  5. I have chills. I am nodding in affirmation of all you have written. I am near tears for the truth of it. This is real. And so many of us have been there and just don't know how to say it. Thank you for being willing to share. I'll be back again, from FMF, because your words always touch my heart.

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    1. The affirmation of this somehow ringing true for someone else is a comfort, is it not? I love it when we as writers are able to share words that others aren't able to say - I know when I read others' words, this is huge for me. Your honesty here speaks to my heart, Kelli. Thank you for being real, too.

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  6. Beautiful honesty heartfelt post. Sometimes it takes having someone to share that can listen and just be. It's like our relationship with God only human. My prayers are with you. Thank you for visiting my FMF prayer for a friend post. Thank you for praying for Denise. I have clicked the option follow so I can stay in touch with you. Please come on by and enjoy visiting me hectic world! I hope your weekend is Blessed.
    Sherry

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    1. Sherry, you're right. That listening and permission to just be, it seems so small, but it's not. It's God in human form, as you said. Thank you for listening to me. And thank you for your prayers and presence here. Blessings to you, too.

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  7. You put words to this journey with such aching eloquence. And my heart nods yes. It is just like this. I love your poetry and your bravery for telling your story. I love you so.

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    1. I know your nod, my friend. I know you get this. I love you, and thank you for helping me be brave.

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  8. So sorry it took me long to read this. You portrayed hope here well in your candid honesty. I think hope that comes in our exhaustion is the sweetest kind...There is no room for false desires only what really sits at the root of our hearts. You are just so lovely in your bravery. It looks so ever good on you.

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    1. Thank you. Just thank you. Your words mean so much. xoxoxo

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