"The Secret Life of the American Teenager, Season 4: Ep. 3"

Picking up the pieces of my broken faith
My heartbeat faintly whispers to my fingers, my feet,
“Someone, somewhere needs a Friend like you did”.

Entirely dismissive, annoyed and too often,
Begrudgingly employed,
I acknowledge the obvious end,
the greater Good collecting dust,
The Highest of High,
who I call,
Healer.

Tonight,
alone but
drowning in
polluted,
shallow,
powdered sugar

I squealed when the girl asked the boy,
“stay with me, heal me...”
and convinced him
with. a. kiss.

I know better
I live better...
right?

Nope.

And as I shut my screen,
Their embraced lips tattooed along my eyelids,
I don’t even notice how far away
Our true Healer is
from my
easily-entertained,
attention-hungry
heart.

These meager rations
leave my soul’s bones barren,
begging
to say those words

in a state of vulnerability
to Creator Friend,
forever
my Guy.

This truly
lack-lusting,
Intimacy-here-than-waning,

Melodrama inducing
Blood-racing, breaths-increasing
drama
is suddenly too sweet.

Picking up the pieces of my broken faith
My heartbeat faintly whispers to my fingers, my feet,
“Someone, somewhere needs a Friend like you did”.

Everyday.

Beautiful.
Like there's a name for the catching of breath in throat, veins pumping looser, silver, warmer, gold.
They say, "you're beautiful!"
And you wonder, if there's a way to freeze this moment forever,
Then melt it later, spread it on days dry and barren of anything to boast.

Beautiful.
Like you needed someone to say it, louder than your own thoughts.
Yeah, you did.
Because when they say, "sup, pretty girl?"
You turn, because you don't feel you belong.

Believe it, beautiful.
It's your turn to love yourself.
Adore the small, charming eyes
See the color of chocolate, not dirt.
See the way it frames your face, the too small-just right smile.

Beautiful.
When they say it next, know it anyway.
It's not just today, it's everyday.

Some heavenly pictures

I don't know if there's anything worth studying
I lose my breath when I allow Your colors into my world
And if You're really outside of time, do you see us like this?

Fast-forwarding into blurs of industrialized dust and concrete grays?

When Eden was standing and love pulsed through earthly veins...
When no one was forced to fathom pain...
Were there harmonies playing, drifting through the wind?
Before sin...and hatred...and You watched human evil begin...
Did you want to

pause.

Did Eve ever recognize the blessing?
What women would do to step one day in it...
Garden colors...were they like these?
How did you know which light went where?
Swimming in parallel lines, poking, sharp and in endless supply...
How confusing are our lives in angels' eyes?
I don't know if there's anything worth studying
What will I need when I finally live in untainted color?

(Thank you to Teso and their heavenly pictures. So amazing to know that...these images reside under the feet of Him...how much grander will those colors be?)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk6_hdRtJOE

Guest Post-Jasmin Banachowski

I Run
July 26, 2010

I run
I am a runner, in more forms than one.

I run for fun, to race, to win, for challenge,
Up high hills, down country roads, in moist heat, through chilled rain,
To build strength, both body and mind...
So, in the long run, I will have
Structure, work ethic, determination, and self worth.

I run for elections and leadership positions,
To be involved,
And to keep things running smoothly.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm always on the run,
And there's always something or someone running through my mind.

This can cause me to run into things,
Whether it be a low branch
Or
A frustrated mother telling me to "put my clothes away..."
At times, I run out of fuel, because I overwork, and because
I forget to look at my fuel gauge.

I tend to run from reality and problems, because
I hate being wrong...
...facing the truth when I'm in a fantasy.

I run from my
Anger and frustrations, and
Pretend they are not there, only to find that
I lost my loved ones, my support for my race, on the way.

I become lonely, and decide it's time to
catch
up
with
them,
So,
We can run this race together,
Making our journeys
Safer, smarter, more enjoyable.

No matter what I run for, to, on, through, into, out of, or from...
...I always run to my God

This run is not what you would call an "easy run", but a constant, hilly battle.

-Sometimes, I i feel like this race is never-ending. I get run down, and my pace may slow.

-Sometimes, I take a wrong turn, or run after the wrong thing.

-Many times, I stumble and fall, get scrapes and "broken bones".

But instead of giving up, turning around, or going down the easier path,
I work toward the
Straight path...
...Right to my Father.

Though it's tough,
I feel strong.

I can run over obstacles and
Get up when I fall.

I will run, and run,
Until my race is done.

Why?
Because, it's a race I will
Never
Lose,

And, because I wouldn't want anyone else to run my life.

-Jasmin Elyse Clarey Banachowski
July 2010
Edited by Call the Sound

And perhaps reach out for Him

I asked my eyes if they'd take time
To rest on the sky today.
They complied, focusing on clouds
Almost too high to rain.

White, unblemished fingers,
Reached out from crumpled bodies
Gripped the sapphire ceiling.

Swaying ever-very-slightly,
Inviting shadows of platinum,
Ivory,
Light gray.

I thought to myself, "we're not so different..."
...Refuse release in our own way...

We grip the skies we paint ourselves,
As if Heaven means "more! tightly".

My own livid greens and angry reds
Exist unhinged,
Not lively.

These blues,
Light hues...
...This moment wherein I, again, choose...

Thanks be to He!
Another May-summer muse
Has cleaned my pride
In spite of me.

Acts 17:24-27

h@/^/D$

Help me not judge based on pretty, prettier
Taunt me with love rimming a lake of forgiveness
Dip me in Your honor, help me understand
I want to hold Your hand
I want to stand
Woman, Man
Hand in hand
“It’s not the hand that cuts, it’s the hatred deep inside”
All forever changed, silver steps for sand

Who art in heaven
Who hath made art
You gave me a brand new start
Help me not judge based on hungry, hungrier
Nudge me with grace brimming over another cracked cup
Drag me in Your peace
Please
Mercifully redeem
Interlace these raised, bruised hands

In Awe

I can feel plunged at the darkest of demons
Lose my gifted breath to tumultuous waves

I can stop going because I need water
Burn with martyrs
Drown a lonely drowning death

None can fathom, oh the glory
So I’ll praise, So I’ll praise