Anis Mojgani, "Come Closer"

                                        One of the most significant pieces of modern poetry.

The Rose Too

Heroes fell, and cupid cried
As a seed lay underground
Impatient and so desperately
Ready to be begin its life
Through a fracture in the ceiling
It could peek above and see
Rain bursting forth
Washing away the starry night
He wondered if it could be true
That after every darkened night
There's a brighter day waiting there for you

It was never easy but somehow that seed knew
You got to keep your head up
So no one can overshadow you
Weary and so  tired of the waiting game
The time had come to rise on up
And to adopt  a new name

With the might of a warrior
Unleashing centuries of ancient might
It strove and gave all it had
To violently escape it's sorry plight

Twisting, winding and unfolding it came
A vulnerable spectacle was set
A robust stem and gun shy leaves
Adorned a flower no one could forget

A perfect representation
Of how far you can  reach
Whether your spoon is silver
Or if it's rusted and crumbling piece by piece
No one can prevent you
From becoming the only rose
That grows from the cracks in the pavement
No matter which way it goes

Crown Jewel

Today I fell

and it hurt

The sky was gray

my jeans were torn

The best of my jackets bloodied

from the blow

My heart was throbbing

Like my knee

That time I skinned it at Grandma's 

when I was 10

Only it didn't stop bleeding

It leaked and poured

until I was sure nothing remained

An empty sack lying limply on my sleeve

Deflated by memories

and pumping milliliters every hour

Enough only to sustain my life

As if to remind me 

That every body is a palace

And exposed to the elements

Is no place for keeping the crown jewel

I Don't Know

I don't know...
Three of the most petrifying words that ruminate in my world, my mind, and from my mouth.
To me, knowledge is comfort, safety, my precious security.
If I know all that the greatest of men have known, if I can predict my fate, then I have the power to protect my sterile, isolated world from that which can desecrate it.
The unknown is such a vast, hapless place.
It's a black hole, full of my fears and insecurities, open to steal what remains of my confidence, and closed to the possibility of retrieving past failures.
It is also the sum of my greatest fears, embodied as a disfigured ghoul that lurks in the shadows.
To face this monstrosity that rules over me in my darkest hours is a risk of indescribable proportions.
I see myself walk toward the giant with a bent cardboard sword, defenseless by definition, but carrying the courage of a lioness before her prey.
I am nothing, really, in head to head combat with my merciless enemy.
But then, so too is the one I face- we're nothing all the same.
I have touched down on this ground before and was thrown to the scavengers as defeat began to rot me away.
But I am back again, and I am wearing the armor I never sought before.
Now I am worthy.
I am ready.
I am not alone, but I am afraid.
Squaring up to a giant comprised of every invisible pain I hold, I raise my useless sword to distract from the knife I pull from my trembling boot.
The battle is waged and my weapon is drawn.
"Who are you, weakling child?!" my enemy roars, grasping my throat in a single motion.
"I don't know", I say with the only breath I can muster, "But I fear you may soon know the wrath of the broken soul."
My dagger is swift, and my courage is full.
His heart is struck deep and his fist is quickly unclenched.
Gasping for breath, regaining my life, I look away from the bloodshed and above to see the perfect blue sky.
What could this be, but a second chance for this lost cause?
Where will I go from here, who will I be?
I don't know, but I will chase the Son and the sky and the beauty of this world until time fails to exist and life is but a trail at the end of a shooting star.
Who am I to those I love and what place do I hold?
I don't know, and that is the journey that I pray will end only when my purpose is fulfilled.

I believe....

I believe that love is the highest calling for us all
That tranquility is found in redemption
And forgiveness is as imperative as the air we breathe
That no one is so far gone that they deserve
A passing judgement
For we all have fallen and crumbled the same

I believe that life is to be lived
Without the boundary of fear
And should be positively infused with passion
Full of moments that have instant recall
When our hearts are full and content

I believe that experience overshadows assumption
And that pain begets wisdom
That nothing we see,say, or do should be in vain
But that every second that passes should prepare
The next with a newly set perspective
That mistakes provide opportunity for reinvention

I believe that every day is a new creation
That each moment is a new beginning
And no matter the storms on the horizon
There will be renewal waiting as the clouds recede
And the sun again appears

Paradise

Today, Easter Sunday, is arguably the most meaningful day of the year for those who know Christ, or have even heard of Him. It's the day that Jesus carried out His promise and prophecy, proving to be the Son of God, raising from the dead three days after having become the Savior of all of our sins. Yeah, that's a pretty significant day.

But, while the story of Easter is crucially important, there is one aspect of the story that just won't leave my mind this year. You see, Jesus wasn't alone on the cross. He was surrounded by those on the ground that had condemned Him, by His family that mourned His coming death, and by the disciple which he loved-His best friend John. While the only perfect and sinless man to ever live suffered brutal beatings and scourging, many onlookers bore witness to His historically tragic, and eternity altering death. But the witnesses of Christ's death were not only on the ground but on each side of him, two criminals on crosses as well.

One of the men hanging beside Jesus spat blasphemy, daring Him to save Himself and the criminals beside Him to prove His deity. Luke 23:40 says that the other man rebuked this demand, saying to him, "Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong."

What happened next to me is beautiful and humbling, truly proving Jesus' identity and loving kindness. The man who clearly understood that he was being punished for a crime he had committed and was wrong, and that Jesus was exactly who He had always claimed to be said to Him, "Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom." Such a simple sentence and such a pleadingly bold request. And Jesus, so near to death, said to this man, this believer who was so clearly a sinful person, "Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in paradise."

These were Jesus' last words to another human on this Earth before he died and arose. His words welcomed a man who had committed a heinous enough crime to deserve hanging on a cross, into the kingdom of Heaven. How great is this love He has that He would do such a thing?

This part of the story of Jesus' death speaks volumes to me in the simplicity and significance of it. Those around us will doubt our faith, our intentions, our God. They may mock us and try us, tempting and testing the very foundation of our beliefs. But no matter how dirty, lowly, awful, or wrong our life has been- Jesus is standing there, arms wide open, waiting for us to come to terms with who He truly is. He really just wants us to identify His sacrifice and accept His love, death, and resurrection. He just asks us to believe. That is the only demand that the actual, physical, Son of God demands of us. It often isn't the criminals or lost people in our lives that cause us to stumble in our walk, but sometimes it is those closest to us that put a seed of doubt in our faith. Sometimes the most pious seeming people are those worthy of the greatest condemnation, guilty of hypocrisy. No matter the case, we are on equal grounds in the eyes of The One who holds our eternity in His hands. We are all the same to Him, and we are all worth the sacrifice He made. He loves us all THAT much.

This speaks to me so loudly, allowing the sound of my failures and pain to fade into the background and focus on the words that really matter, the promise of a Savior that is open to all who are willing, "...you will be with Me in paradise."

Paradise. Can you imagine? No false idols or Greek gods have promised a thing so great, because no such created thing has ever lived on this Earth as we do, and died in the place of all those who are deserving of death, which is every being who has ever lived. That is truly the gift of a Savior.

Happy Easter

:)

Do you smell that smelly smell?

I've heard many times that senses can create an instant recall of memories, scent being the strongest of which. It seems weird to think that you can be going about your day and as you walk by a stranger you smell their cologne and are instantly thrust mentally into a time long ago. It's subconscious and eerie, but it can be pleasant as well.

I got to thinking about all the scents that draw really direct and clear memories for me. Because I'm me and use lists as the template to my thought process, I thought I'd list all the associations I have with different smells. I mean, why not.

* Elderly ladies that smoke and wear musky perfume- I know, sounds disgusting. To me, this smells like the memories I have of the gentle nature of my Nanny whom I loved (and still love) dearly. When this smell hits me, I'm 5 years old again and I don't want to be ripped away from the memory this brings, it's a strong one.

* Horse or cow stalls in barns- Reminds me of my small town and vaguely what the country can smell like on a day with a breeze.

* Pig pens (clean ones)- warm summer days spent prepping fair animals with friends before showing, followed by evenings spent riding carnival rides until we were sick.

* Wood stoves- home. From early fall to late spring, we always had a warm fire to heat our house and to this day, nothing is more relaxing to me than curling up there with a blanket and falling asleep.

* Spring flowers- Grandma. Every kind of spring flower's scent brings back memories of Grandma's humble, but beautifully cared for gardens each year. That smell reminds me of her hugs and her smile that I miss.

* Chanel No.5- Mom. Classic, graceful, somehow smelling kind. This smell, no matter where I am, brings me back to playing dress up in Mom's closet, and sitting around for hours soaking up advice and sharing stories with her. I love that I still get to build on these memories.

* Car grease and tools- Tools have a distinct smell, like dirty metal. Whenever I smell that, I'm back home working in the garage, fixing cars, listening to the 8 track player and creating carpentry projects with my Dad, while absorbing direct and indirect advice on life. I still take advantage of every opportunity to expand that memory bank when I return home. 

* Wet pleather jackets- My favorite concert with my sister, which was monsooned beforehand and was one of my favorite days ever.

* Cigars- Viewing stars through my brother's telescope for the first time in my parents field, freezing my butt off in literally sub freezing weather while I sat outside with my brother and shot the breeze while he smoked a cigar. One of the simplest, and most memorable days with him in recent years. He loves a good stogey so whenever I smell one I think of the goofball that I grew up alongside, terrorizing and feuding with, and always admiring and loving, especially when I wouldn't admit it.

*Puppies- You know, the puppy smell, you can't describe it, but it exists! Takes me back to the day we adopted my drama king dog child that we love so much.

*Patchouli- College. My college experience was different than most, other than my fellow Oregonians. College opened my eyes to a whole new world of savory and unsavory choices and lifestyles. But patchouli, this reminds me of what lax days in the sun at Alton Baker Park, and lazy days at the Saturday Market felt like. My college town was the essence of patchouli and though strange it may be, I'd never have had it any other way. It's woven into my memories like a finely knotted Persian Rug.

*Thunder storms- Not only the physical place, but the region I call home. Nothing beats a humid, scorching day drenched in water poured from ferocious skies. Nothing. That is my heaven on earth.

A Woman's Worth

I recently heard someone define womanhood as a female finally earning her stripes through child bearing. Even to write it now makes me a little ill in my heart, and this is why.

At the ripe age of twenty six, I have yet to meet this definition of womanhood. No, I'm not some spinster or a cat lady. I'm actually happily married, and also fiercely independent. I'm a professional with a set career, and also mother of one very spoiled... dog.

But what if I were single, going to college, or taking some time off from everything to find myself- much like many inspiring women I know- what then? Would I be a failure as a woman? Is the essence of femininity truly found in the experience of growing, bearing, and rearing one's own child? This cannot be solely true. For if this were so, then we would be confirming that women who have helped form our very history- women like Mother Teresa- were not in fact women at all, but girls? I find this ideal appalling, offensive, and untrue.

Please do not misplace my passion here. I am not what most would even really call a feminist. In truth, I'm more interested in individuals than groupings of a predetermined people at all. But as I grow in life and years, I am increasingly surrounded by the presence of mothers, and of this idea that to be one is to enter into an elite tribe. It blesses me to see the gentleness and grace of a mother with her child. It's beautiful to witness the melding of hearts that occurs in that bond that is found nowhere else. There is said to be no greater pain or intense love than bringing forth a child into this world. Sacrificing nine months  and a remaining lifetime of independence, as well as dwelling in a new, changed body is a selfless act no one can match. It's also a gift and life changing experience that no one can fathom until they arrive there. However, I think the root of womanhood only begins in this relationship, and branches out into every aspect of life, and not in such a way that those who are barren or intentionally without child cannot participate.

The common theme, the main ingredient, in a woman is her heart. It's what defines every person on this earth, is it not? The heart is the reflection of the soul and actions are a reflection of intentions and desires. If you have no heart, you have no influence, no bargaining chip, but to allow others to learn from your mistakes only. And what a loss of learning that experience is, if there was never a testimony of redemption to right such wrong. Again, requiring heart to accept life over loss.

But I digress.

I have witnessed women from every walk of life imaginable, from many different parts of this earth, and the one thread they all bear is their passion for others. And isn't that what makes us all human- the unquenchable desire to reach another soul? Be it through words, sports, song, connection with nature, sharing of faith, teaching of ideas, or simply caring for others, we all have the potential to love and influence our fellow men and women. The young lady caring for your grandfather in his elderly care facility is no less a woman than the mother of four in front of me in the grocery store.

I openly want to voice my great respect for mothers and the amazing opportunity that they have to raise a future nation. However, a child is not raised in the walls of a home alone, but also by the community at large in which they dwell. So why put us all in that box and demand that we exist there? We are women, after all, and our sisterhood, so greatly diverse as it is, unifies us in itself. Can we let that be enough? I would love nothing more than to not see pity dripping from the face of someone who hears that, gasp!,  I am childless. If I never have the opportunity to raise a sweet little clone of myself, if I never choose to take that path, I only hope that I would not continue to be looked upon as a leper, but as an equal with value and might, gusto and grace, courage and worth. All that I ask is that you see me as you see you.