I see myself

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In her, I see myself-
older, more frail somehow
a different shape than me,
but me nonetheless.

She’s lived a different life
than I have,
but in some ways the same.

I don’t recognize this person;
she’s not tilting her head back
with laughter
or trying to play tricks
on my husband
just to hear him scream out
like a girl.

Praying those days come back soon,
when I can enjoy them from a whole
new perspective.

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Glue

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It’s the deep, overwhelming, take-your-breath-away kind of experiences that make it.  It’s a sort of branding of the soul.  There’s a tattoo there, in the shape of my friend.  Not sure how she got there, since I’ve sometimes done my best to strongarm people away.  But she did.  And I love her for it.  She shows me the strong love of the Lord when she says that I’m full of poop.  She says she loves me in many different ways and even in a language only the two of us understand.  No one else besides her and my husband have this kind of permission into my life.  It’s not the kind of friendship that blows around by every breeze, it’s the ‘I can totally picture her old self sitting next to me while we are being fed by nice workers in our nursing home’.  That, my friend, is glue..

I Want

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I want

Your ways, not my own
Your plans, for they are better.
Your methods, for you understand the battle better than I.
Your joy, for it is not manufactured.
Your contentment, it involves nothing but you and I together in it.
Your view of me, mine is a dusty mirror at best.
I want you and all you have to offer. My plans have gotten me nowhere. I follow yours and I live a crazy, exciting, topsy turvy, upside down from this existence kind of life.

And it’s good.

It’s good.