Burdens of Life

I was cleaning my room and listening to a radio sermon broadcast. It was about burdens and that everyone has their own in life. The past few weeks, I have been feeling the depression coming back on and it has been frustrating me. I was complaining to my fiancé about it. Why am I like this? I don’t like that I’m made like this. I complained about this struggle of mine. I don’t want it. I wish I had a different struggle, a different burden. Anything. Or hey, even nothing at all. I’d be cool with that.    

David wrote in Psalm 119:25 and 28, “I am laid low in the dust; preserve my life according to your word…My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word.” No one is exempt from burdens. Even David, as close as he was with God, experienced soul sorrow. He had burdens. He went to God with them. He asked for strength.

One line from the radio sermon today hit me. “The burdens of life are supposed to be bringing you to a deeper place of prayer.” Are these burdens given to us so that we run to Him? Depend on Him? How annoying is that? How frustrating! I’d like to think I’d run to Him on my own but apparently He doesn’t think so. He gives me this help, this reminder, in the form of a burden that I detest so much. My challenge today, for myself, is this: Don’t waste the opportunity your burdens bring. 




-Cynic Ninja

Sapling

She was lost,

and she didn't know what she felt anymore.

She was both happy and sad at the same time.

It was the most frustratingly confusing mix of emotions.

It was as if too much was happening all at once

and her mind couldn't handle it.

The changes were approaching too rapidly,

And there was no foreseeable way to stop them.

Not that she necessarily wanted to stop them.

Just slow the approach down a little.

She compared herself to the trees of the forests.

A small sapling is pliable and easily bent

but she felt like the old, weathered tree.

Beaten by the storms of life

and as this potentially big storm approached,

she couldn't help but wonder

if she'd come out on the other side

           u

     p

          r

                i

                     g

                           h

                                  t

-Cynic Ninja

Life Words

There are some things you simply don’t say to people. Well, a lot of thing, actually. Such as your breath stinks to high heaven’, I really don’t like you’, or `you have the most annoying sounding voice’. That is, if you’re a polite type of person. 

But, there are other words that you don’t say because you don’t want people to worry, be bothered, get upset. I spend my life not making waves. I learned how to pilot my boat so softly and gently that the water around me barely moved. I knew what not to say and what to avoid. I knew by intuition and careful listening and watching. I wonder if I’m still doing that. Keeping words inside, locked up tight. No. I don’t have to wonder because I know I am. I know there are thoughts I can’t let others know about; feelings I can’t share. I suppose I need to accept this because I don’t see it changing. That’s just the way life is when you protect your people.  

      

I refrain from uttering life-ending words so that others may continue their life. The irony runs high, oh so high.      

-Cynic Ninja

Tiny World Impressions

Life felt like it was finally on track

going in the right direction.

How can one week change a trajectory?

One week spent in a poor desolate country.

One week surrounded by beautiful despair.

A week of face to face with the harsh realities of life.

Not my life, but others.

                The majority, maybe.

And suddenly there are questions.

Questions about my life direction.

Questions about what I can do.

Questions without answers.

-Cynic Ninja

Lifers

Sometimes in life 

you find people

and you know instantly 

that they are going to be 

yours 

forever.

-Cynic Ninja

Movement

Running:
The only time I think of nothing 
except for the synchronized pounding of my feet to the pavement, 
counting even, 
       steady breaths, 
and how my side aches with cramps. 




-Cynic Ninja

You

You pull the curtains of my life back

when I’d already thought they were open.

You sprinkle fairy dust on my life with each breath.

You bring feelings and emotion where once there was blankness.

Every laugh brings me pleasure.

Every touch holds healing love instead of pain.

Serious conversations mix seamlessly into joking thoughts,

childhood stories, and back again.

Periods of contented silence afford me time to sit in your presence;

To smell your skin and run my lips over the rough edges of your fingernails.

Glittery diamond feelings collide with overflowing love as I look toward you.

Never doubt,

you are more than enough.

You chose me.

You are my Love.

-Cynic Ninja

Confusion is My Companion

What are you trying to pull?

What are you playing at?

You claim this is a game only I know the rules to,

but hey, I’m just as lost as you in this relationship.

You set rules and break them in the next breath.

How can I keep up?

How am I to keep my head above

when you keep toying with me as a shark with his prey?

You roughly cut me loose.

I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking

It’s over.

Then you snatch me back down.

Pull me around.

Push me away and pull me back.

I need to look up.

Up for air.

Up for light.

Up for hope and peace and Him.

-Cynic Ninja

Musings

Have you ever felt like you were hurting so much
that you just wanted to find a

   small
                 dark
                            box
to climb into,
hug your teddy bear,
and hide?

That's how I feel right now.



-Cynic Ninja

Square One

Your words knock me flat,

rendering years of work down the drain

with just one breath.

You can see the anger and hurt in my eyes

yet continue to push on.

“All in the name of Truth,” you say.

Is there such a thing as verbally abused friend?

If so, I am the epitome.

My confidence lays in tatters at my feet.

My assurance long ago chipped away.

I am but a fat, stupid, incompetent waste of space.

Nothing I try succeeds

and even menial tasks fall apart on my account.

I am no one and nothing.

I am the last and the worst.

My voice is insignificant, 

for I am Worthless.

-Cynic Ninja 

Angel Wings

Little blue angel wings beating on the window pain.

It’s cold outside.

Let in.

Keep out.

Remain freezing.

Negative wind chill freezing.

Blue angel wings turn black and crumble.

Falling to the earth as ash,

absorbed in the terra for future life,

blue angel wings are no more.

-Cynic Ninja

Not a Whisper

You held me back. 

You kept me from putting 

        fragile china pieces 

              away on the shelves. 

I've worked years to find my voice 

                                                                  and 

in the span of ten months 

                                                                  with you, 

I lost it. 

-Cynic Ninja

A Broken China Life

Life is like a full china cabinet. It’s like one of those old fashioned fancy corner cupboards that fit snugly out of the way. Inside is all the pretty china, the pieces of your life. Some of the pieces are important. The platter, the mugs, the large plates. Other pieces don’t get used or touched that often. The gravy bowl; the small soup and saucer set; the demitasse cup. All the pieces are important or the set wouldn’t be complete.

In life, we hit bumps and will get shaken around. When this happens, a couple pieces of china fall from the cabinet and crash to the floor. Maybe the handle breaks off a teacup, or the rim of a plate chips.

I’ve had a couple storms that knocked pieces of the precious china out of my corner cupboard. One big storm, when I was eight, sent about half of the set splintering to the floor. Before anyone could see what I had let happen, I quickly swept the mess under the piece of furniture.

Years passed and for the most part, I forgot about that mess. I mean, sure, occasionally I would notice my china set was missing a medium salad plate or a teacup, but that was rare. Mostly, I was content living my life using half of my china. It appeared to me that everyone was content letting me, as well.

I grow up. Things happen. I grow some more and more things happen. Some bad, most irreverent, a little good, more bad. Over the past four years or so, I’ve managed to dig out, dust, and put away the least damaged pieces. I do not want to deal with the broken wreck under that china cupboard. I do not want to look at each of those pieces and try to fit them back together into some semblance of a life.

I’d like to think that mess is doing just fine under there. Staying hidden, out of the way, never thought about. However, I know that’s not true. I think about that wreck daily. Specific words, specific actions, specific sounds, and my mind is right back there to that not so well concealed mess I call my past. Just to be clear, I have no desire to deal with it. Never liked cleaning in the first place. Some things just have to happen and this is looking like it’ll be one of those things.  

Flying High

I was so high
till you knocked me down.
I fell quick.
Hit hard.
Green grass is soft underfoot
but it hides pain well.



-Cynic Ninja

Vociferous Silence

Alone in a rarely empty house.

A substantial house.

The walls are talking,

a constant clamor pulsing in and out.

It pushes at my ears,

demanding my attention.

Yelling, arguing, fighting words

slam and swirl around me.

“You’re not…”

“Too…”

“You can’t…”

My mind exuberantly adds more to the chaos.

“Stupid…”

“Pathetic…”

“Idiotic…”

Do all walls talk?

Is it truly quiet anywhere?

I’ve gone from one place to the next

trying to escape this chaos,

without success.

What do you do, though,

when the clamoring racket is inside of you? 

-Cynic Ninja

Cloudy Confusion

What did I say wrong?

How did I mess up?

All this trying and

I’m still not good enough.

I’m sorry.

I’ll try harder,

run more.

Dress better,

eat less.

I’m sorry.

I won’t be so emotional.

I’ll hold the salty wet back.

I can punish myself for the mistakes;

better than anyone else can.

Don’t worry.

I’ll handle this.

I know how to injure.

Years of practice and whatnot.

I’m sorry.

But, what did I do?

-Cynic Ninja

Crimson Life

Wrapped, clean and shiny, in their brown covers,

still untarnished by crimson soul.

Thrust in the back of the drawer like secret lovers,

they whispered to me, “I will console.”

Back and forth I argued.

Should I now or can I later?

How long before I become unglued?

Or will this be the final wager?

They were what you thought,

Silvery bright, stinging uncertainties.

Holding so much potential,

Wrought with latent possibilities.

Metal pushing hard against skin cells,

Waiting for them to surrender.

Smile on your face as pain swells.

You, my Dear, the ultimate pretender.

Watching in fascination

as insignificant red dots form.

Pulled from the depths of desperation

to see pin pricks transform.

Connect slowly.

Creating a line of relief.

Spelling boldly,

what had been esoteric grief.

-Cynic Ninja

Liquid Breakpoint

Saltwater

drops from her

eyes like liquid from

the sky.  She looks down,

ashamed of her weakness.

She stumbles, is falling into darkness,

a chasm infinitely wide, uncrossable.

She is lost in oblivion.  Blessed oblivion.

Nonexistence.  Is anyone else breaking

apart like her?

-Cynic Ninja

Liquid Red

Nicks and picks on the knees,
telling more than you thought.
Red stripes crisscrossing thighs
spelling angry, red relief.

Red crimson tears falling onto the dirt.
Soaking into the earth
to be used for life.

A new life.
A life that's wanted.



-Cynic Ninja

Spoken

Little Girl, why are you crying?

Why are there tears filling your throat?

Why, Baby Child, are you sad?

Momma, Momma, Little Girl is hurt!

Momma, Momma, Little Girl is crying!

Help her, Momma. Hug her Momma.

Hug her tight, Momma.

Keep the bad guys away, Momma.

Daddy, Daddy, hold her!

Daddy, Daddy, carry her off to safety.

Tell her, Daddy!

Tell her it wasn't her fault.

Keep the bad guys away, Daddy.

-Cynic Ninja

Little and Big Collide

Little girl is crying inside.

Baby girl tears from long ago,

trapped in there for years.

He put his arm around

and big girl said it’s fine.

But little girl, she still cries.

Tears of pain.

Tears of memories.

Tears of dreams lost and

cautious hope restored.

-Cynic Ninja

Life Questions

How many people do extraordinary things
even though nobody ever finds out?


Cynic Ninja

Coffee Shop Complaints

Sitting in the middle of Anywhere Coffee Shop

overhearing loud conversations behind me.

Mom with Baby vents to Friend about Husband.

“He doesn’t do anything I ask him to.

He says he will but it doesn’t get done!

I simply want the dishes washed and the toys

picked up. It’d take 20 minutes! But he just

wants to sit in his chair playing on his phone.”

I can’t help recalling a similar dialogue overheard before.

Is this the way it is for every Mom and Husband?

Wouldn’t it make more sense to talk directly to the

one that’s causing the tension? Talk and talk and talk until

there’s no words left to say but only forgiveness and love

to hand out.

Approach the frustration with open hands; eyes. Ask “what can I learn”?

About myself?

About God?

About life?

About Husband?

Embrace the learning in the frustration and give thanks.  

-Cynic Ninja

Lost Shapes

How many people do desperate things
when they discover the shape of
half-remembered dreams?


-Cynic Ninja

Teardrops

If I showed you my teardrops

would you collect them like rain?

Store them in jars

and label them Pain?

Would you follow their tracks

from my eyes down my cheeks,

as they write all the stories

I’m too scared to speak?

Would you stop them with Love,

bring their flow to a halt?

Then tell me that pain

isn’t always my fault?

If I showed you my teardrops

would you show me your own,

and learn though we’re lonely,

we’re never alone?

-Cynic Ninja

Currently Historical

Brown pipe

curling smoke

tweed jacket

and patches on the elbows

The epitome of a dusty novel's scholarly gentleman

walking down my 20th century town

-Cynic Ninja

Silver Shame

Often, blade has been pressed against my skin.

Often, I willed it to move.

Maybe an earthquake would hit

and the blade would slice.

Possibly it would drop and cut deep.

Just as often,

I've pulled the blade away.

Still shiny and silver.

Sparkling for all the world

to see my failure and shame.

My lack of strength

in a moment of pain.

Would a swift strike of a blade

dull the inner pain?

Would it numb the hurt

while at the same time

shock my lifeless nerves

with energy?

-Cynic Ninja

Strength

Is it strength to cry?

Or strength to hold tears back?

Someone who can cry,

has a strong core.

A strong center.

They have a confident and honest view of themselves.

One who can cry if front of others is even stronger.

There’s a different strength to not crying.

There’s an outside strength.

A tough skin strength.

A kind of strength that is afraid to let anything seep in so it repels.

It takes strength to cry.

It takes strength not to cry.

What kind of strength do you have

and why?

-Cynic Ninja

Untitled

I read a line of text.

“getting over abuse,”

it says,

mocking.

I clench my teeth.

Anger rising.

What idiot thinks abuse is a

“getting over” kinda thing?

Some fool who has no clue.

It's people like you

who make this harder.

Showing off your perfect life 

while expecting me to catch up.

How can I compete with you

when I started out in mud

and you were on a tropical island?

-Cynic Ninja

Dangerous Cellars

True burning anger comes rarely to me.

I'm more in the habit of not feeling.

But when it does,

I have the urge to do something with it.

Like I should take care of it once and for all.

But this last time,

               I was too busy,

                                             too tired,

                                                            too embarrassed.

                                                                                          too,

                                                                                                         too,

                                                                                                                        too.

I didn’t want to deal with it.

I didn’t think I could deal with it.

Now it’s seeped away,

the anger has.

Flowed back into the cellar

where all bad

and dark

and ugly

things are hidden.

A part of me wants to dig it out and deal with it.

The other part is quite content to let the anger stay hidden.

-Cynic Ninja