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Weepingjoy
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Name: Heather Francie
Birthday: 10/28/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: Books, movies, art, horse back riding, classical and ballroom dance, broadways, history, writing and journalism. Not to mention just having fun with friends.
Expertise: Vocal Music and Kids
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Message: message me
AIM:  Weeping Joy
Member Since:
10/8/2004
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| So many tears have fallen tonight
Swelling my mind, blinding my sight.
But clearly I can see it now,
Only through dying, How
Blessed we are to scarce draw breath
And climbing high experience depth,
Of soul,
Of sight,
Of pain and blood,
And wisdom of a troubled love.
And now at the crux of things,
Upon this hinge my whole heart swings:
To see truth from others' eyes
And find within my heart the lies.
Praying, begging with all I may
That I may soon see the day
Where lies will all be washed away.
And stand in white, oh come what may.
My Lord, My God, let come what may. | | |
| I looked for you tonight, but you were not there.
I watched people who were not,
playing parts,
playing hearts.
Darkness iluminated faces,
gazes
that were not yours.
I walked by the yard that always smells of weeds,
wild onions,
Through the alley dimly lit,
The radiator that screams in the cold.
I walked to your door,
through your room,
where the dark illuminated an empty chair, an empty pair
of shoes,
you were not there.
Outside the trees bloomed,
loomed
over me,
taunting me
in my obscurity.
I am insignificant.
So I walked back to my empty room
Darkness shed light on nothing,
No one was there to welcome me,
shelter me.
I would be alone.
But it was in the darkness seeping in,
creeping in
where my hope lay.
It is in the darkness,
loneliness
that sat my connection to light,
company.
Throbbing light in shadows casting,
grasping
snatching
Joy from hidden folds,
holds
The world of comfort.
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| A need to be vulgar.
There is a love and a loathing cohabitating in my soul
and a house divided cannot stand.
I'm leaning precariously in the shifting sand.
I feel him pressed close against me
and a Ghost haunts the back of my mind.
What I feeel and what I want is fighting
against reason and a calling that is high.
and a Ghost haunts the back of my mind.
It taunts me, he taunts me.
his words appeal to my very heart,
capture the fiber of my mind,
and the Ghost still haunts there,
still taunts there, in the back of my mind.
I coax it out of its hiding
behind the corners of conscious life,
It shines over my captivity and fills me with vile contempt
for the chains of precious stone and gleaming sweet silver
bound, wound round my will.
It is haunting--a beautiful haunting
I can not dispell,
this beauty is my living hell.
I will not let the Ghost slip by
out of the back of the depth of my mind.
Stay!
Haunting the back of my mind, stay.
Show the jewels for the coal, the silver for its deathly cold. | | |
| There are some days that I deal so much in the abstract, and I feel in such an abstract way, that I just want to feel something tangible. I want to feel an icicle melt cold between my fingers, so cold my skin hurts. I want to feel dried, crisp rose petals crush between my palms, smell their light fragrance as fragments fall to the floor. I want to feel raw dirt under my knees, and an ache in my back, and sweat on my brough, as I tear up and manipulate tangible things. My mind works best with tangible things. The abstract attracts me and fascinates me and I enjoy wrapping my mind around it, but I understand the abstract through the concrete and through things that I can physically manipulate. That is why I love metaphors. But there are few metaphors for what I am dealing with right now. I need something to tangible to wrap my fingers around...to wrap my mind around. | | |
| I hate Valentine's Day. I have always hated Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day is a sorry excuse for ignorant people to flaunt their imitation of love. What they are really doing is exposing their infatuation with what the world deems "true love." Not that I do love any justice. In fact, I am one of its most recent villians, having raped it of its meaning and thrown away what could have been. But enough of my cynicism. I am trying so hard to find hope right now. I want to see a better life than I am living; a better person than my actions. I have held a grudge all day against those "in love" or those who really do love each other, yet that is the one thing i need most right now--love. I need to feel the love I have thrown away and demolished. I need to know that there is hope for love that will come again. So in search of this hope, i turned to my feet and started walking. I had no idea where I was going, i just went. And as walked I heard music, the music that fills the air with the coming of spring and warmth. The air was full of sounds and song, birds, and squirrels, and the rustle of the breeze. If I listened closely enough I could almost hear the buds forming on the trees, and hear the daffodils pushing their way through the thawing mud. I could almost feel God's arm around my waist, supporting me through my tears. His sweet nothings the song of the birds and the sound of the daffodils in their struggle. The long look into his eyes came with a flash of red wings as a cardinal lighted in a tree beside me. It was a look of hope, a long needed hope. I want to hang on to that hope that i glimpsed, but I'm afraid it is slipping away.
Those who know me least would scoff at what has left me this way, those who know me most would reassure me that I have all the hope I need. I am neither of those, for I don't know me at all.
currently playing: Matt Good's CD, track 8 | | |
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