Honest Sails

"How are you doing?"

Do I answer in cliches, turn it back on the asker, stuff-masque, and slap the smile on?...or do I look into their eyes and honestly come clean...? Will they see my ocean eyes deep and sore, or do I darken them with pencils and paint on a color to keep them from really looking into their depths?

but what would be my response, and is it appropriate? Or is it something that I mull over again and cross-examine because i know the heart to be weak, and to be full of deceit, and are these but fleeting emotions, the woman's battle to stay sane and not be a wave despite whatever may be surging in her chest and throat, and I feel the grave because more dreams die and I can't lie, and I can't pretend it's okay...it's not. It's my heart made new and the a sudden crash of the steel storms and the glass heart shatters and I sit in disarray. A whirlpool in my heart starts and I fight the initial tendency to despair...ps..psalm..psalm 27:13...and will I swim to the shore?

So I answer in a crooked smile and say "Oh you know...how are you?" And if you really want to know then you can ram down my door and ask me to my face, but I may say nothing and I may just claim the ocean of grace because the words that might escape could be cruel and betray me later, or send me charting off course and I'd rather hope that the FATHER holds my writhing and fisted up hands. I'd rather let the rocking of his rhythm be what calms the sea of my hearts fits.

I am the leper today, dodge me again and turn your lips into a snare while I speak, and all the while I struggle to still and struggle to trust that His hands are Love and that His silence is purposed, and I am not a walking disease - the castaway or the cursed sailor with no fetter. And all I can give is these broken dreams and small hands that feel defeated and sore from clasping on to heavenly dreams, and sails that I supposed would be full of driving winds, and yet I am shipwrecked today and feeling out of place again...so No, I must do my best, to only recall CREATOR above creation, on the wind it whispered over me and I still have pieces of flesh to daily surrender, results from the fall.

So you may say good Christian- where is your faith? But would you dare judge me when all my complaints are to the wind anyways? and I know a thing or to of divorce- so I divorce all my expectations and come sighing and heaving my heavy chest of hurt, regrets, dreams and justice, because who am I...but a grain of sand in these no man lands and yet You pulled me forth and said, "Beloved, lean into Me because I will give you peace."

So this course I will still navigate, and my ocean eyes will enlarge with every study of His Holy ways, for who can mend what is broken? and who else can restore what has been disfigured? and who will fight for what is right? and who will see me through the years? and who can call me out darkness and tell me I am now a Light? who but only the Master...and only He holds all things with ease.