cold

i throw the pen to the other side of the room. 

too many thoughts. they are all pounding in my brain, pounding in my throat. so close, my spirit whispers. it's afraid to speak louder for fear of being thrown across the room too. with an exhale that shakes me apart, i fall back against the pillow. i am tired. i have been starry-eyed for so long. i have been looking for something so long. the numbers on the clock blink over and over and over.

10:46.

what do you say when his words fade? what do you say when she is gone? what do you say when it's cold inside? 10:46. it's late. i am tired. why did you go? why did i...not go with you? i push back the covers and wade into eternity, mountains stretching from my fingertips. i am not there. you are not here. why am i doomed to a forever of missing you?

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,

          though the olive crop fail and the fields produce no food,

though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,

 yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

 The Sovereign Lord is my strength;

    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

    he enables me to tread on the heights. Habakkuk 3:16-19

i wrestle with the heavens, tearing apart galaxies in my fear of being forgotten, when i am the last thing He will ever toss away. who am i, oh Lord, that you are mindful of me? there are no words. it is 10:47. i am not whole yet. but i am no longer cold.

♥

i miss my cabbage and my potato, but we're tied together with golden light.