Held

This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell
we'd be held.

This hand is bitterness
We want to
taste it, let the hatred know our sorrow.
The
wise hand opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.

If
hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?

This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And
you survive.
This is what it is to be loved
And
to know that the promise was

When everything fell we’d be held.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

A Picture Says A Thousand Words

A blog is a wonderful way to make a personal statement. The amount of effort you put in, the number and regularity of posts, and the depth to which you are willing to 'bare your soul and tell the most appalling secrets' tell a lot about you.


The picture behind my blog title was to be perfect. Saying something about me and being something that no one else could have. SO. How to find such a picture??? Well...I'd have to make it.


The day before I was due to go to Wooyung to visit my mum and brothers one last time before they left for Brunei I was walking home when a butterfly stopped me. It seemed to be waiting for me, I smiled as I walked by thinking about poetry and butterflies. I stopped to have a conversation with it, when it confided in me that it wasn't feeling well. I felt sorry for it so I offered it a lift as far as I was going. It seemed quite happy to rest on my hand as I walked along, until I started climbing a hill, when it wanted to get off.


Now, while walking, I had hatched the beginnings of a plan. I needed a photo session with my little blue star. This didn't really seem to appeal to my dear, so, instead of letting it down as it wished, (the poor thing was quite delirious by this stage, talking about wide open spaces and roses and fresh air), so I took the part of an adult indulging a sick child all the while planning my plan.


The end of the butterfly...


The end of my pretty blue butterfly was unromantic.


But that is beside the point!!!


On Sunday morning, my alarm went off at 5:45...I thought about my butterflies brief but meaningful life and wondered if it was really worth this headache???


I dragged my three dear, groggy brothers out of dream land (yes, ALL of them...) and then took them across the road to the beach.


And we waited for




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