humble me May 21, 2008

What can I say about this poem…it is the recognition that we, as women, sometimes have a hard time letting go of the…independence, for lack of a better word, in which we exist.  For whatever our individual reasons are, we are used to doing things by ourselves and for ourselves.  After how ever many years of living in that mindset, it can be hard to relax and let down that guard when a good and right man comes along.  I don’t think that most men get that it has become a part of who we are as opposed to it just being an attitude or a difficult way of acting.  I have had enlightening conversations with a few girlfriends about this lately and I understand the importance of us knowing when we can let it go…when we can let down the guard.  Easier said than done, as I’m sure most of us have been hurt before, but it is necessary.  Keep in mind that this only applies to that good and right man I mentioned earlier…

humble me

Humble me Lord
while I fumble these words
and submit to the possibility
that he may be
for me
that he may be
the other half of the we
I was never sure I’d see
that he may be
the man to see
the virtuous woman in me
so Lord I pray You
help me to be made ready and

Humble me

Humble me Lord

so that he sees

the willing that

sometimes resides

behind the disguise

of independence

so that he sees

the me

hiding behind the defenses

so that he sees

how strongly I really want

to be in this

so Lord I pray You

help me to release my resistance and

Humble me

Humble me Lord

so that I know

when to be heard

and when to listen

so that my pride knows

when to relinquish

the rights to my submission

so that my mind knows

it’s safe to

grant my heart permission

so Lord I pray You

help me to make needing him my admission and

Humble me

Humble me Lord

so that he and I can be on

one accord

in all ways

so that on those days

when it gets rough

I allow him to take my hand

as we pray

so that when we get

caught in this craze

I submit to his ability to lead us

out the maze

so Lord I pray You

help me to surrender my stubborn ways and

Humble me

Humble me Lord

are the most genuine words

I speak

as I seek to

release all that

is old and

all past hurts

to which my heart

still holds

Lord I pray You

make me bold in my

new willingness

to be open

make me soft

before my words are spoken

make me ready to fully embrace love again

and make me strong enough to

allow my head to bow and

my knees to bend

so Lord

just as you’ve humbled

him

Lord I pray You

Humble me.

Amen.

-cdt, 5/15/08

The Cycle May 2, 2008

I know it has been quite some time since I have shared any new poetry with you all, but I’m back.  Just wrote this one a few days ago.  I was thinking about the different things that affect many of our little girls and ultimately, us as grown women.  So, this is one of the things I came up with.  Hope you enjoy it and as always, feedback is welcomed!

Have a great weekend!

————————————————-

The Cycle

she never understood why
he didn’t stay
days/into/weeks/into/months/into/years
found her tears dried
but her eyes were still wide with a silent hope
that gripped constant expectations
that tomorrow
would be different
that tomorrow’s sun would rise
she would rub her eyes
and would hear him come in
just to make sure she was awake
cause that’s
what the good ones do
but it would only take
a few minutes
before the alarm
went off again
and she realized
that there was no him
any-where
she would stare at the ceiling
feeling
that if she could only be
too naive to remember
and
clever enough to forget
than she wouldn’t have to
lie here
every morning
and wonder
if he ever even cared enough to
regret
not being there
and every morning
after waking from the same dream
where she was chasing the same thing
she still never seemed
to notice the repetition
or how strangely similar
the things were in him
so she would spin her wheels
trying to fill an empty space
instead of trying to make a break
from the place where patterns grow
and since no one ever told her
it
wasn’t
her
fault
every morning
as natural to her
as yawning and blinking
she was instantly thinking
that some-how
she
could have done
some-thing
to make him not
Be
Gone.
she could only figure
that she must have
done something wrong
because
maybe if
she had been right
she wouldn’t be waking up
in the middle of every night
reaching out for
him
and then
struggling to decide
if the tears she felt
and the cries she heard
were
her mother’s
her daughter’s
or
hers.

-cdt – 4/29/08