Did He

Stories of car wrecks and dead drivers haunt my dreams.

Reminding me of painful things I'd never wish to see. 

Making me wonder about details I shouldn't ponder.

Would it ease my heart to know or cause more pain if the truth is hard?

Thoughts come unbidden. 

Did he see the truck turn in front?

Did he hear the metal bending?

Did he perceive the tires skidding?

Did he feel the bones shatter?

Did he sense lungs filling with blood?

Did he struggle for a breath?

Did he see darkness coming for him?

Did he fight darkness or

                           did he welcome it, 

                                   knowing the escape it would bring?

Did he hear the prayers of a stranger?

Did he feel the touch of a hand?

Did he know that he was leaving?

Did he realize we would miss him?

Did he know I loved him?

-Cynic Ninja

Scarlet Letter

Like the fictional character from The Scarlet Letter, I felt like I had a big red A emblazoned across my chest at church today. Like everyone could see exactly what I was. Once again, the chest and abdomen restricted feeling happened immediately following the words being shared. I was so hyper-focused on breathing that it was essentially impossible to hear the rest of her words. I didn’t come to church to have that come up and think about but that’s what I got. I wanted to get up and leave. Not hear any more. Not think any more. But that would draw more attention to a red letter A walking out of the room early.

-Cynic Ninja

Midnight Thoughts

How hot does a shower need to be to burn away thoughts and clean the dirty? 119 degrees Fahrenheit is apparently not hot enough. After standing under the pelting scalding spray for half an hour, the thoughts are still here. I put off sleep, dreading what the dreams have for me tonight. The prospect of tomorrow’s talk looms over me causing distress. Why is this coming up now, again? I do not want to deal with this. But I can't keep going with life being like the past four days. Four days that have seemed like two weeks. 

When we were talking on the couch downstairs, I felt like I was shattering all over again. As you talked, I wanted to scream. “Hold me, reach out and touch me, anchor me because I’m falling apart.” But I was afraid of being rejected, pushed away, and couldn’t reach out. It took all of my concentration to hold myself together. I wanted to cover my ears, blocking out the words leaving your mouth. Words and thoughts and memories and feelings I hadn’t felt or thought about in so long. I wanted to stop them all. Now I’m facing the prospect of all these memories again without an anchor beside me. 

-Cynic Ninja    

Immobile Panic

I forgot about the whole body tenseness

when thinking about this topic.

It starts in my toes and creeps upwards.

My legs are on high alert,

my arms tight,

breath shallow and

barely there.

My whole outer self

shrinks inward.

Making a desperate attempt

to seek shelter somewhere deep inside.

I see it all

over

and

over again;

playing in a continuous loop.

I am above

looking down

and feel absolute

immobile 

              panic.

Cynic Ninja

Unmentionable

I woke up this morning, clawing my way out of the depths of a dream I haven’t had in over two years. Probably more like four, actually. It was shocking. It rattled me and left me gasping, mostly due to the unexpectedness of its occurrence. It was different from any of the others, but at the same time, still the same. Still the same house. The same dry stairwell. The same basement. The same people. The same tears. New lies being told. Trying to change the story. A story that is cemented in history and can’t be changed.

How do you talk about this big unmentionable when the words won’t come out? How can you ask for help when you can’t say what is suddenly haunting you? I haven’t figured out how to do this. I’m left thinking about the unmentionable all day. I know that it will help if I speak it but I cannot make myself do so. It is a block so strong my fingers can’t even type the letters.

I thought this was dealt with; that I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Those hopes probably made today’s dream all the more distressing. Proving it’s not true and there’s still work to do.

-Cynic Ninja

Well Said, Ma'am. Well Said

I've been busy with finishing up one semester and starting another, the craziness of Christmas coming, and work. Maybe I'll write something later, but for now, Ms. Voskamp does a pretty darn spot-on job. Well said, Ma'am. Well said. 

"It may have taken us awhile for us to find our voice — but don’t you dare ask us why it took us so long.

When someone takes something from you that doesn’t belong to them — they take your voice too.

I’m finding mine. We are all finding ours...." 

Continue reading here: http://bit.ly/DearPredatorsWhoDontKnowThatTheyArePredators



-Cynic Ninja

Exhaustion

I woke up feeling more drained and depressed than when I went to bed. Even with ten hours of sleep. I had a horrible dream. An emotionally exhausting, physically aching, painful, soul-searing dream. My brother is gone. And I miss him. It’s hard to believe some days, how this happened. That this happened. In my dream, I was hit with the truth all over again. I dreamed of helpful, caring God people filling the house: bringing food we couldn’t eat, cleaning bathrooms, mowing the yard. I dreamed of anger and frustration. I dreamed of shouting and crying. I felt the gaping hole as I remembered his extra tight hug only hours before. I remember an empty space at the table and it feeling like we were missing three instead of only one. I dreamed of his red cup, bone dry from lack of use.

I woke up feeling more drained and depressed than when I went to bed. Thus far, I have accomplished nothing with my day other than wander around aimlessly, like a lost kitten. I have an essay due in two days and haven’t been able to start. I have chapters of text that need read but the words blur on the page. The sink is full of dirty dishes and the floors haven’t been moped in a month. I hear my bed calling. I think I’ll answer.   

-Cynic Ninja

Down Again

Headed down the dark rabbit hole again.
Over anxious.
Over tired.
Over school.

Dreading Thanksgiving.
Dreading Christmas.
Dreading school.

It has been 482 days and it seems like forever.



-Cynic Ninja

Behind Doors

Perfect little people in their perfect little house.

Perfect purple flowers spill out of perfect planter boxes.

Perfect polished cars drove with perfect steady hands.

Perfect little people in their perfect little house

on the outside.

Broken little people in their broken little house.

Broken him watching naked broken girls online.

Broken her hiding in the separate bedroom shaken.

Broken little people in their broken little house

                                                                                    on the inside.

-Cynic Ninja

Definitely Wasn't

I heard some new recent fact two weeks past. Then heard it again from a different source a couple days ago. In the telling of where I originally learned this bit of information, I said, "it came from one of the kids. Maybe it was Shad or Travette who said that." It's something either of them would know. With so many kids, it's always one of them who said something. The collective.

But now; now, we can eliminate one possible source. And it's slightly funny in a "not funny" kind of way. Because it definitely wasn't Shad who passed on that tidbit of information. Definitely not Shad.  




-Cynic Ninja

Without

Spring sun
     flowing dresses
           missing people
                 missing places.



-Cynic Ninja

If I Had Known

    If I had known

that was my last sight of you,

my last hug,

my last smell…

   If I had known

that would be the last time I could ask you about cars;

what is this noise; dash light; smell,

what fluid to buy…

    If I had known

that would be my last time hearing the excitement

in your voice as you describe the plans for your jeep,

listening to you dream of more tools and equipment and cars,

hearing the roar of your bike as you leave the driveway…

   If I had known

you wouldn’t always be a call away to verify my childhood memory

that no one else remembers;

(did you lock everyone out of the house or was it me?)

or a text when I forget which is the best weather app for my phone…

    If I had known

that was my last sight of you,

my last hug,

my last smell…

   If I had known…

-Cynic Ninja

Sink Hole

Down the sink hole I go.
Where I'll stop,
nobody knows...

Find me at the bottom.
Or throw me a rope
and help me out.




-Cynic Ninja

Roller Coaster

What do you write when it's been so long and the words are all backed up?
How do you get started?
How do you know what needs said now and what can wait?

What do you write when you've learned to live with the stuffing and keeping inside?
How do you put pen to paper when there feels no purpose?
How do you scratch out letters,
                                           string together syllables,
                                                                          and hope cohesion results?

What do you write when the past year has been a
                                                                                  r                                a
                                                                                     o                       o        s
                                                                                         l                c                t
                                                                                            l        r                         e
                                                                                                e                                  r

      of emotions you couldn't have predicted?
How do you make sense of the will of Him, the one who put you here and gave you all
                                                                                      and in the next breath took away?
How do you remember to breathe and let Him when the next breath is caught on a sob?




-Cynic Ninja

Brother

I hide my tears when I say your name
but the pain in my heart is still the same.

Though I smile and seem carefree,
there's few who miss you more than me.



-Cynic Ninja

Noises

It rained all morning.
A nice, steady perfect-for-the-crops rain.
Lots of it.
The cricket trapped inside my house sure was happy.
The bird in the cage was in a pleasant mood.
I wasn't.

I couldn't concentrate with the bird chirping and the cricket calling;
and the mess on the table and dishes needing done, floors to be swept, and spider webs drifting about.

But, it rained.
And that was nice.
A washing away of the old and a starting new.

So, I put away the dishes and cleaned off the table.
Organized.
Swept the floors.
Dusted the corners.

And the noises stopped
and I could concentrate once more.




-Cynic Ninja

Making it Count

It's been two months and four days and there still are no words.
There are no words to describe the emptiness inside.

No words to tell of the sinking feeling when a Jeep goes past me on the highway and I know that will never be him. It's hard to focus on learning when you read the definition of Infarction and wonder and realize that's what happened. Nothing does justice in explaining the ache of seeing a Snap-on truck or the quick flick back to reality upon reaching for the phone to text.

Nothing.

We can fill our lives with busyness and everyone will think it's all good and okay. We go on and continue in the normal because we don't have a choice. But just know, it's not all good. It's not all okay. And that, I guess, is the one thing that is okay.

Because we are putting one foot in front of the other. Doing a little more this day, this week, and maybe a little less the next. But slowly, we are picking ourselves up. Slowly, we are moving. We're still here and we should make it count. We need to make it count.




-Cynic Ninja

Time of Great Need

In a time of great need, you hear "I'm here for you," and "Let me know if you ever need anything," among other phrases of the similar tone. These are kind and generous and willing people. Open-hearted, loving healers. What they might not realize is they most definitely are needed but we don't always know how to ask. And we most definitely don't have a clue what we need from them.

There's an issue here. We need them, but don't know how to let them know that. We know we need something, help maybe?  But don't know what that would look like and they might not even be able to give it. And obviously, since we never told them they're needed, they don't realize it.





-Cynic Ninja

Building

I understood myself
                         only after I destroyed myself.

And only in the process of fixing myself,

did I discover who
                         I really was.





-Cynic Ninja

You Are

You Are
All Words and Lyrics by Colton Dixon
From the album "The Messenger"


When I can't find the words 
To say how much it hurts 
You are the healing in my heart 
When all that I can see are broken memories 
You are the light that's in the dark 

You are the song, 
You are the song I'm singing
You are the air, 
You are the air I'm breathing 
You are the hope, 
You are the hope I needed
You are 

And when my circumstance leaves me with empty hands
You are the provider of my needs
When all my dirtiness has left me helpless
You are the rain that washes me

You are the song, 
You are the song I'm singing
You are the air, 
You are the air I'm breathing 
You are the hope, 
You are the hope I needed
You are 

If I had no voice, 
If I had no tongue, 
I would dance for you like the rising sun. 
And when that day comes and I see your face. 
I will shout your endless glorious praise. 

You are the song, 
You are the song I'm singing
You are the air, 
You are the air I'm breathing 
You are the hope, 
You are the hope I needed

Blank Spaces

When there are no words
and the heart is empty,
write blank spaces.

Fill pages with blank spaces.

Because sometimes,
what isn't said
says more than ten thousand words.





-Cynic Ninja

Eternal

What of this world is eternal?

Obviously not much of what you see around you.

But what do we spend our time on?

Our phones?

The computer?

Games?

What is eternal?

And how can we invest more of our time there? 

-Cynic Ninja

Countdown

It’s almost midnight on my last Tuesday as a single woman. Can I even use the word woman? I don’t feel like I’m old enough to have that title, yet. However, apparently I am because in exactly 3 days, 18 hours, 36 minutes, and 57 seconds, I will be walking across a bridge to the one I will spend the rest of my life. That’s a crazy thought. A very crazy thought. How in the world did this day come up so fast? It seems like only a few weeks ago this monumental day was just a blur in the distance. It’s upon me now, whether I’m ready or not. 

-Cynic Ninja

This Delicate Life

Life is fragile.

How often do you go through your day

and never realize there was a close call?

This grip we have on life is tenuous

and we aren’t even aware.

How quickly a beautiful day can turn gray.

How fast the sky can dump rain.

Tears are shed for things not understood.

Hearts hurt for those experiencing pain.

How disheartening is this way of life.

We try to control our corner of the world

but those we rub shoulders with,

we have no control.

What is the answer?

Do we put those we love in a steel cage?

Let them out only when we deem it’s safe to play?

Still, He determines the course of life,

and cage or no, life will happen according to His plan.

We have to be ready and accepting with grace.

-Cynic Ninja

Running and Writing

Running and writing are two things I can’t quit doing. Don’t let me. Running makes me feel better about myself. It gets the clutter and negative, clouding thoughts out. When I run, I am free. My mind is emptied of all the negative thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking. I drop them along the way and leave them there beside the road to wither. Go down any of my normal paths and you’ll see lots of bad stuff. Things like stupid, fat, ugly, fool, annoying, and complicated. You’ll see difficult, worthless, weird, not pretty, idiot, crybaby, average, and failure. All these and more, I drop along the side of the road. When I finish my run, I am free and ready to continue my day.     

Writing has the same effect but it happens in a different way. With writing, I deal with the thoughts. Instead of just getting rid of them, I sort them out; organize the whys and hows, the what-should-bes and find the truths. I put them down on paper. I erase and change and fix and ponder. I write some more, backspace, add, and keep writing. Why do I think this? When did I feel like that? What should I believe instead? I make sure my words say perfectly what I’m feeling and thinking and I set them free. Thoughts done. Mind clear. When I finish my writing, I am free and ready to continue my day.  

-Cynic Ninja

Different

A few quick moments snatched to write.

Not enough time left,

too much to do.

Mountains to climb.

Countries to explore.

Food to savor.

People to love.

All these can be done after,

                                                      they say.

I suppose,

                    she replied,

but it’s not the same.

Not the same at all.

It is different,

                              they replied,

           but different’s not bad.

Not bad at all.

-Cynic Ninja

....

I have less to say than I thought.





-Cynic Ninja

Lost

Somewhere along the way,

I lost the D in my signature.

In a few weeks,

I’m going to be losing the last half, as well.

If I seem lost or forget who I am,

remind me to look up.  

-Cynic Ninja

Boxing Up With Grace

Boxing up almost 24 years of life

and I’m wondering what to keep.

Do I save things that I don’t care about now

but once did?

They obviously had importance at one time.

Maybe they will again if given the chance.

I have 8 hats. Baseball hats, cowboy hats, cool artist painter hats.

I used to wear them…five years ago.

They’re dusty. They’re worn and the bills are perfectly curved.

One is from my Grandpa’s collection-Kreider Farms, PA.

Another says Nittany Lions. My mother’s Pennsylvania heritage.

I have a couple random camouflage hats,

two nice western cowboy hats….

I don’t know what to do.

Not with the hats.

The real issue isn’t about hats.

I already know I’m going to keep them all.

I’ll box them up and move them to my new home.

Maybe they’ll collect dust for another five years but by then,

I might be ready to say goodbye.  

The issue is about change and

moving forward and being willing to accept all that is to come.

It might be hard.

It probably will be hard.

But that’s okay.

Growing up is hard sometimes.

With His grace, we get through it

and continue to be a light in a new and different place.

With grace.

-Cynic Ninja

Contemplations on Lovewell

It’s been a couple days since I’ve written. I can tell without even having to look at dates. There are words and thoughts and stories tumbling around inside of me with no way of escape except through my somewhat reluctant fingertips. It’s a little overwhelming when this happens. I don’t know where to start or what is most important that absolutely needs said. Right now.

Two things top the charts, I believe. The first is love and the valuableness of it. The second is going to be saved for another time. Ha. Look at you thinking I was going to deal with two issues at once.

Anyway, in conversation with some of my best people, I came to the realization that I believe my love, the love that I’m capable of giving out, is not worth as much as the love others can give. I’m not saying that I give less love, because, really, how can that be measured. What I’m saying is that my love, my love, is not as good, valuable, and worthy as the love others give. My thought is that it would be better for someone to fill their love-bucket from another wellspring. Because mine isn’t good enough. It’s been contaminated by life. People have thrown rocks and mud into my love-well and it’s dirty and messy, not as pure and clean. Who would want that yucky, second-rate love going into their sparkly clean love-buckets? There’s plenty of better love to be found elsewhere.

Where does this idea come from? Annoyingly enough, it seems to go back to my ideas of not being good enough and not being worthy. Of anything good. Ideas that I thought I’d dealt with and conquered. Apparently not. Well, whatever. They should be quicker to deal with the second, third, and fourth time around, right? I’m hoping so. Guess I’ll start tattooing my God-given word - WORtHY - back on my wrist.

As a whole though, I’m trying to take this issue, this idea of my love being less, back to scripture. I’m not really finding what I’m looking for. I suppose I’ll have to keep looking, thinking, and praying on this. Any ideas or divine inspiration?  

-Cynic Ninja