Her Heart Was Wild

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July 15, 2019

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Fight Me Free

Fight Me Free I have dined with kings, and walked with royals I have fought beside the hearts of men I have climbed the mountains, and roamed the valleys And screamed into the raging wind I have fallen far, and flown yet further, And lost my way inside the storm I have wept with grief, and bled from wounding And sinned until I broke my bones All the while, you fought for me All this time, you fought me free So when I fall and when I fly While I live and when I die I’ll hold fast onto the light Oh my God, keep me tonight I have danced with joy, and laughed with children I have sung my soul out for the Lord I have begged forgiveness, and seen it coming And hoped I could forgive as full I have loved with weakness, and raged with strength And prayed for healing in their wake I have carried burdens, and walked past need Ignoring those whom I could feed All the while, you fought for me All this time, you fought me free So

Rainshadow

My heart has become The wild desert storm Where living things die Or harden like stone Wind has made monsters Of dust and of pain Weak tendrils of hope Gasp sweetly for rain The salt of the earth Stands tall on her pyre She looks through the night For the Bedouin fire Though I stand alone In wild desert storm And living things die Or harden like stone I still feel the pulse Of water below That fights to give life To all that I know

I Made A Movie

I made a movie. Such an interesting sentence. Because, you see, it's both the truth and a blatant falsehood. I made a movie, but I most certainly didn't make it by myself. I did it for a film class that I took at Master's School of Art in Longview, and it was asininely difficult to do. I mean, this crap was HARD. Each of the five students of this class had to start with writing a script and follow-through all the way until the finished product. I'm pretty sure I complained loudly through the ENTIRE process. Script-writing was hard, casting was hard, scheduling was hard, filming was hard, budgeting was hard, being crew was hard, being cast was hard, editing was hard, not-sleeping was hard...ect. you catch my drift. Nevertheless, we did the thing. You can find the trailer for the thing we did right here . But then the thing got completely derailed. My family suffered a devastating loss and our whole world stopped. But when it started up again, everything was

Always

I ate it hard on a Tuesday morning Blood in my eyes, splinters in the doorway My hands were cold and my feet were stone And the years looked pretty sad alone I worried that we wouldn’t make it While I was buying your first blanket Your beating heart could not find rest As this old pain beat through my chest I walked about the streets at night A body that had lost it's mind Trying to remember He He who had created me Then, I feared what seemed so much Paying bills; a human touch I simply could not see A path that pointed free Then, at last, you were there The brownest eyes, and jet-black hair I reached out for you You reached for me, too Your small hand held mine As I came alive And then I prayed And prayed, and prayed That you would stay For all my days And be safe And be brave Be whole Be loved All Ways.

The Cost of Hope (Pain: Part II)

Photo by HB Mertz on Unsplash There once lived a girl who needed hope. Pursued by a shadow of Dark Despair, she knew that hope would be her only defense. Her need for it became so great that she offered everything she owned as a reward to anyone who could find it for her. Throughout the years many people came seeking the reward, and the girl chased down every lead. She sought health, but hope did not come. She strove for success, but hope did not come. She gave herself to charity, fed the homeless, and brought water to the thirsty. Yet still, hope did not come. Once she believed she had found it within the love she held for another, but it proved to be a false hope. All the while, the Dark Despair stalked her quietly from a distance. Eventually she grew tired of searching and began to falter in her quest. But every time she slowed, the darkness would creep steadily closer. She knew that if she could not find hope, it would finally catch up and there would be nothing left

The Death of Dreams (Pain: Part I)

There once lived a girl who hated dreams. Not the dreams that one might have while slumbering through the night, but the dreams that burrow into a heart and fill the soul with ache. She hated her dreams. They were merciless and unrelenting. With all of her strength she would capture and eliminate one, simply for another to burst to life...showering her mind with electric sparks and new ideas. She hadn't always hated her dreams. As a child she had loved them, even helped them grow. Her dreams had responded to her ministrations and grown very strong. At first they had thanked her by filling her heart with beautiful gifts. She saw colors that others could not, heard music that had never been written, and witnessed all the wonders that were yet to come to pass. The girl was grateful, and she continued feeding and nurturing her dreams. She read them stories filled with adventure and fantasy and the whole wide world. She sang them songs that flowed along the surface of her sk

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