future

Lying in Wait

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Freedom awaits behind iron bars,
Life, to be lived in the midst of the wars;
A stand, to be taken while being confined,
Winning, achieved from behind finish lines.

Feet wait to dance while stepping through sorrow,
Eyes, to see past the cliffs of the morrows;
Beauty, enhanced by hardships endured,
Character, to be built through the winds of the storms.

Vision, to be born through the sight of the blind,
Light waits to shine through the darkness of night;
Touch, to be felt by the deaf and the dumb,
A verse and a chorus await a new song.

Doubt impales faith as a splintery thorn,
Hope waits to advance, as fear buffets and scorns;
Joy is alas, a decision away,
With peace on its arm, they escort a new day;

– Tina Allen

A Note to My Beloved –

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Dear Beloved,

Adequate words elude me as I wrestle to gain some semblance of composure. For I stand teetering the line between humility and shame, innately aware of my undeservedness. Though I readily admit that I have not always treated you as I should, my appreciation for you – although it has waxed and waned throughout the years – now grows more immense with each passing day.

You have chased me in unrelenting pursuit; you’ve pardoned me of any wrongdoing and are able to look upon me with no trace of disdain in your eyes.

Since the day I entered this world naked and vulnerable, a cloud of evil foreboding seemed to hover anxiously overhead, the disadvantage into which I was born yet unrealized.

You witnessed as I evolved from a demure and innocent babe into a curious youngling whose thirst for the milk of contentment would long remain unquenched. And as I grew, you carefully monitored my steps as I graduated from a place of hope and sure footedness into a mischievous adolescent girl whose want for security left her starved and malnourished. As I continued along my wayward trek, you were ever-aware of my condition; for you watched as I pledged my wounded heart into the hands of another in a quest for security at last. And although my dread was unbeknownst to those who graced me with well-meaning smiles, you saw clearly the fear that emblazoned my eyes as I stood poised at the altar of matrimony. And you were not surprised when this once-courageous young woman – finding herself with nothing to emulate – was fatefully exposed as a grossly ill-equipped and struggling wife.

Affording me only half-truths, motherhood quickly offered its rosy view as I embarked on my journey as a doting and capable young mother. But my malformed dreams covertly operated in the form of foolish idealism and soon, my familiar despair began interjecting its barbs into my well of hope, sobering me to a place of complete consciousness of my failed attempts to achieve perfection.

Whereas anyone else’s arms would have trembled with unsurety, you bravely elected to carry me in my powerless state, undeterred by my pleas to allow me to wither. As I carelessly forged my way toward emaciation – for not for so much as even a wafer did I yearn – you delicately filled my plate and forced strength into my marrow compelling me to live. And when an understanding of the whats and whys I was unable to retrieve, you prodded me forward as my ember of faith you slowly and patiently fanned. Surely your words would’ve negated my sorrow, had I read them. And in your presence, I would have been content – if only toward you I’d have turned. But as I lay a waif curled on the cold and barren floor of defeat, you were not alarmed. For though you clearly observed me in my decline, you directed your gaze beyond my transgressions and empowered me through your divine conviction that a beauty resided herein.

A victor, I had always believed I was. And in my determination to achieve, I boldly cast my lots. But the winds of disillusionment left me standing helplessly in watch as my faith, my desire, and my dreams were whisked away into the faint yonder. My heart filled with woe as I regarded my seeming insignificance as a strict inheritance, one to which I had surely been assigned for the treacherous deeds not only of my own, but of those who had gone on before. And the stench left behind by my course of maljudgment was too great to bear as those in whom I had learned to place my trust were silently repelled. And in my stale state of being, I began to question your love; never your ability to love, but your willingness to extend that love toward me – one whose character had become so maligned. Your selfless gift of free will cut like a double-edged sword as it gouged at the ubiquitousness nature of your love, drawing me closer to you at times, and causing me to rapel further away at others.

Yet firmly you stood, steady and unruffled in the face of this unrequited love, your declaration of betrothal to me holding fast.

In the reckless days of youth, I carelessly ingested harmful substances in an effort to destroy this, your wonderful creation which is me. And in a state of self-prescribed pain, I took slivers of metal to my own flesh, piercing and making it bleed in an effort to divulge the pain that abided in this, your masterful creation which is me. In a state of wantonness, I invited and served as host to abuses, compromising my own integrity as a declaration of the desperation that was housed inside of this, your magnificent creation which is me. I then lingered disheartened and withdrawn in sorrow as I strangely found comfort in the courtship of the bitter arm of chastisement. I settled into the embrace of usury, toiling to the point of exhaustion as I sought to secure a place of rightstanding, acceptance and love.

The pattern continual, the cycle perpetual, yet never was it made complete. And as I subconsciously pushed away those who may have been of some service to me, I grew increasingly contemptuous seeing how they so easily swallowed the bait of my seeming desire for independence. Will they never see nor hear my cries? I adamantly questioned, looking to the skies as I awaited my reply. My disobedience to your commands – to trust and obey, not to lean unto my own understanding; and my failure to believe and to act in a manner which properly dictated your desire for good for me – that you did not create me for harm but for prosperity – of first my soul and then the rest. I was caught in an inescapable curtain of confusion as apathy prepared for its delectable feast.

Had I only known that all along, it was never intended that I give all that I am or all that I am not for the sake of securing or sustaining my place of importance on this earth; nor is it your desire for one to stumble in blindness when you have made provision for sight. I have committed acts and borne consequences that are unbecoming to a creation of the Most High. And it is only as I have arrived at a state of gleaned wisdom that I am able to envision life as it should be, where I am able to view glimpses of hardships as the mere primer for the culmination of the full masterpiece that is my life.

And as I look upon my children, my grandchildren and beyond, I hold an irrefutable peace in my heart in knowing that as with me, to them, you are also forever betrothed.

Sincerely,

Tina