August 24, 2007 at 9:04 pm (Writing, Writing, reading, the meaningful words)

For someone I know, who suspects its them. Maybe I will never say ‘will you let me help you?’ but I am always there if you do.

Quick greek lesson:
Phileo – friendship love
Agape – commitment love
Eros – romantic love


Sun steps slowly through the clouds…Windows watching.
The wind washes kiss across your face. Its morning. Nature meets you on a porch, with flowers and a sparrow. You welcome it in, with broken heart and half remembered smile. As night time slowly leaves you, stop to cry. As morning arms embrace you, do nothing and trust.

Lying down you feel the long grass cold and wet, feel the shine in your face, smell the peat and the hint of an easy life. You catch yourself smiling again, then thinking of people. Michael, Sarah, Kate and him again.
‘Whats the point?’ asks the lover in your heart. ‘There is no escape.’
Phileo in your heart, phileo in your blood.

Ripping grass out between your fingers, clawing your nails on a life indestructible.
You’re angry at me and you’re angry at God. You feel like noone can help you. Noone can. So you sit, hungry, crushing daisies in your thumbs whilst happy people try to help.

But you still remember don’t you? That’s why you sit by the flagpole remembering names, waiting for the truth, waiting for mercy, retribution, a song. You’re waiting for someone who can save you, or never let you go. You don’t love Him but you need Him.
Agape hold on you. Never let you go.

This is sunrise, hill and flag. Long nights spent here praying, for your future and your friends. This place is water in your tears, when you’ve tried to leave. Praying now is harder, quieter, but parts of you still say trust, as the sun hides behind the clouds those parts say feel the rain, feel new. As evening is coming, light vanishes but the way still seems clear. Desire starts to guide you like eros in thought.

You know I have been here, just like you. Sobbing pain not so different, sickness not so different. So I pretend I understand, but the truth is that I don’t. You see, somewhere in recovery I forgot. I spent years searching for an answer, gazed up at clouds, clawed through wormholes – I think I found an answer but I forget what it was.
Ach, the paper’s tangling in my hands.
Any time you want to turn around and look at me I’m here.

I have felt the same. Felt the knife inside turning like the hands on a clock, felt the pain of just surviving. No hope, no help, nothing in the world to stop you from falling. Crying out, year on year, you expected there would be an answer. I’m sorry but I found the answer. Heard something. It made me forget the pain, so I’m useless to you now, though with all my heart I’d try to help you.

So all you have is questions.
Why is this happening to me? Why? Where is He?
All you have is teeming farms and forest, you sit on nature next to rivers and set down fields. You’re lying by the river bed and waiting. You’re holding out your hands and nearly asking. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. I hurt you.


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