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Dancing

4/14/2018

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Picture
In a dark place. But I know we'll find the sun. Wrote this two nights ago. An unbearably long night.
​
Petal
The music swells and she laughs. She takes my hand and spins around me till my arm is twisted around my body and I have to spin to untangle it. her hair brushes my leg and she circles me again I follow more willingly this time as she laughs with all her soul. She takes my other hand and takes me around into spins and jumps with arms twisted all over the place. I'm afraid I'll run into someone but she doesn't lead me wrong once. I let go and pick her up with both my arms, lifting her above my head I catch myself smiling with every last bit of my spirit. This child knows what they say about her, yet she dances and laughs like they don't even enter her head. She knows people fear her. She can bring out the best and worst inside of people depending on what is there. She can make people who appear to be flawless and guiltless sobbing on the ground and people who cover their faces smile brighter than the sun's reflection off the mountain snow. People avoid her. They don't want her to paint their stories, they don't want her to tell their victories and tragedies because they have spent so many years building up an empire of hollow bones. People don't want to see anything that means anything because they are afraid that it doesn't. I know. I feel that every day I feel her small hand in mine. She knows me better than anyone ever will and I know she sees my soul. Yet she pulls me into the circle and laughs begging me to spin her one more time. She speaks no words, only laughter. But it is enough. She is enough. Never have I known a stronger person than this 9 year old child who's hair is tangling around my arms. She will never belong. She wasn't meant to belong and she's accepted that. She was meant to bring out the core of who people are when no one else can. She was meant to paint the dark depths of the human heart Into something that means more than shattered glass and cold stones. She was meant to see beauty in the ashes and she does. Here, in an war camp. Waiting for the next day when we all might die. She makes me dance. She makes me find pieces of my soul I never knew existed. She makes me feel. She is free. Who knows how she does it. Maybe it's Ellar. Maybe it's the unending love she had from her brother but this girl won't let anything hold her down.



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This

11/13/2015

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It has taken me a lot of deliberation to put this up because it is something I have not resolved yet. I think, though, that it is good to talk about it. So I am. This is a prayer I wrote one day trying to understand a complex and controversial topic. It is not as well written or formulated as most of my pieces but I think it suits the messiness of these thoughts and conflicting feelings.

Let me question this for awhile
Let me ask you why once again
I read it, it looks so clear, but how much does context change it?

Let me wonder for awhile
Far from Bible thumping and these loud obnoxious preachers
In the safety of just you and I
Please tell, please tell me why
It's written there?

How can I show my face
When other's who have known you have shot out so much hate

Did we take your word as just an excuse to protect against our fears
What we don't know or understand let's hate until it disappears
I think, from what I know
You hate that sort of thing
The Jesus I know, maybe I'm wrong
Would eat with them

So I want to know why you wrote those ancient words
Knowing now, what kind of hate they would incur
I want to know where is the line between wrath and love and how can I find it?
From what I know you are grieved by those who drive people from you
Why is the church the last place, many go to find love?

I am confused! Why is there this fear?
To get a little dirt on our hands
Why this fear to hear a different story
and try to understand?

If I were lesbian I know he would love me
He would walk by my side unashamed
But how could I know that now?
If I were just shown that he hates me?
Because they don't want to get to know me

How do you bear your heart oh God
When your love is concealed oh so coldly
How do you take these foul lumps of clay and touch them with your good pure hands
I can't understand
How you bear to stare
At us condemners every day
Why wont you just tell us how you feel about what you say?
About being gay?

There's got to be something we missed and gone miles too far with it
I know you won't answer this until I see you face to face
But how do you actually feel about gays?
1 Comment

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    I'm Emma Garriott. I feel a lot

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