The Troubled Hands in my Feeble Hands

I have made choices and decisions I’m not proud of. I have lost tiny of self-love and cared too much of every circumstances rather than what’s white-headed. I ripped myself to keep others whole. I gave everything and left nothing but self pity. I denied and mistrusted what other people are willing to renounce for my own sake of unworthy self-sacrifice. I can’t go back. I have lived to this ideal of what someone should be and push them away when they turn out to be something different. But the truth is, no one could ever live up to that ideal. I have said this to myself many times. My heart is sympathetic and soft. I forgive with a free hand and without reservation. Even those who have shattered me, intentionally or unintentionally. Including those who have done it numerous times, I bury the hatchet and feel no resentment towards them. My doors are never closed. Without pretence, I welcome people back in my life and fix what’s broken even the things that are beyond repair. In all honesty, my best-loved declaration of faith from someone else’s tongue is when I hear them say, “let’s talk..” Precisely. A bit much for others, worrisome and gut wrenching for many. Some would think it’s good for nothing. But for me, this is a compelling appeal, quintessential and bread and butter to secure amity and sometimes, reconciliation.

Very recently, I have this missing a puzzle piece. Which I knew I can always complete easily or fix unmistakably. Questions came out of my troubled mind. Now that the rain has finally fallen, am I now in control of the possibilities and outcomes that constitute of being free from any afflictions, empty promises and letdowns? Could this be a time to give myself of a very worthy chance from the things I have previously neglected my self with? A chance to grasp every moment with butterflies and heartbeat and not with fear or anticipation of failure? To voluntarily embrace a new fate and a situation favouring a purpose for myself and not only for others? To unguard the door I have been keeping closed from someone’s right of entry?

I unexpectedly heard a knock at the door. The door that I have always kept locked, where no one is capable of infiltrating but me. Built with the highest walls to protect myself from any unwarranted entry of this hostile territory. I stood closely and strangely felt the same distinctive atmosphere I had 4 or 5 years ago. I was scared to unlock it but my hands were hopeful, but at the same time, rebellious and has given up to a resisting control. There was this light, gentle wind that draws into my face but my eyes were blinded by an earnest gaze. It was a rare but troubled sight. The anonymity began to subside but we both didn’t know when and how to begin.

The moment of deliberation came when you said ‘’hi” and it sounded very lowly and uncomplicated. My mind cruises with doubts and questions, bubbles of confusion but I started to become wordless and lip-tied. Deep down inside, there was one question I wanted to ask. Just one question. If you remember the last time I asked you to wipe your hands after you shut the same door you are about to set foot in. That didn’t happen. Because you also became voiceless and standstill but you immediately wanted to show me your hands after you read my mind. The bloody hands that used to wrap me in my defense but with strong inward desire. The hands that pulled me without deterrence. The hands that stained me.

I still can’t say anything but I knew that this was something familiar but you said it’s totally not the same this time. You asked me nothing but to trust you. But you know that trust for me is like a beautifully-knit sweater. Pull one loose thread and the entire sweater is likely to untangle, rapidly. And it’s difficult to put the threads back.

I was in disarray but a quick vivid recurrence in my mind of a past event came. The day when I had to choose between what was easy and what was right. And I was left to choose with what was right. It was hard and heavy. I had to start learning and choosing to love the sea where I could reel freely and without being rescued instead of choosing to flee in a field of weeds. I had to stop breathing the same air you breathe. It was devastating. It’s my fault. I put myself on that situation when I should have not. The air that was too shallow, enough to suffocate and desolate me. I had to step away from the same surfaces you move in. I made a choice to settle on what was right. But it’s destroying me.

I have put everything down to experience but today, your eyes are suddenly begging me to choose what is easy. That your hands will be in between mine and will no longer have to be concealed for protection but will now be free from judgments and convicting eyes. You wanted to show me that the sky is now boundless, clear and untroubled. Enough for me enjoy a freedom that is not subject to the control and domination of others. Enough for me to know that I will no longer be a seed of weed but a seed that will be sowed with hopes and wishes. I should know that you’re trying to play with me and get into my head again. I’m taken by surprise when you said you do really know me. But you don’t really know everything about me. I know myself more than you know me. You call me a teller of lies. Yes, that’s true. I can’t deny. Doors may be open and I could let someone in but my doubts and apprehensions of accepting a soul to stay with me for the rest of my life is still with me inside without fail. I have lied to myself. And I’m sorry for being dishonest to other people too. The fear is contained in me that even if I say it’s time, I guess I just love the idea of it.

My hands were like acids, ionising only slightly in solution of your enduring cold, sweaty palms. Mine was shaky, yours were steady. I am scared that you will slowly make me cling onto something that will be hard again for me to let go. But how can I be so sure that it’s not the same hands that stained me? How can I trust that these are the hands that will no longer let my feeble hands cusp and blow the dandelion I have nurtured? What are the chances that the blemishes in my hands will not be replaced with blood? I’m in big trouble. I’m crying for help from the inside. I’m drowning. Can somebody please save me? Again, I’m sorry, I lied to myself. They are all tired. Story of my life.

I guess that’s the horror of it. I’m always attracted to things that are uncertain and cloudy. And when I cry for help, no one will ever listen. I give everything I have. I am always left with nothing. I’m not complaining, I’m okay with that. No matter how I have always painted my door in white. Even if I have always covered and guarded my hands from cuts and debauches. My hands are frail but can become submissive. Or maybe my hands are also bloody but I was just trying to conceal it. But you said it’s going to be washed and cleaned by your untroubled hands this time. And you withstand any scrutiny and only want my acceptance, willing to wait, willing to go wherever I decide. That you are now bringing yourself back to an uncomplicated life. I wish all people have this frame of thinking. But what if what’s ahead of me is even more terrifying than what I have been through?

The door is open but I am standing right in front of you. My hands are feeble and my mind can easily command and control these hands to push the button. Yes, it’s just one button away to open or ultimately close my guarded door to you. Long ago, I chose what was right. And then I chose what was easy. But can I choose both now? I hope I just love the idea about you. But beyond everything, if people can’t hear me, I hope I can hear myself and save my own from someone who keeps breaking into my breathing space. Otherwise, this chaos remains. I’m not gonna find my way out of this unending maze.

Faith in God’s Promises

There is intimacy from this disquieting and oppressive thoughts whenever I keep myself within the spaces of this balcony. I stare at the slightest street lights. I dismiss the minimal noise around me. I am blinded by this darkness but I feel like a little child counting the visible stars in awe. Breathing just the right amount of air as a sign of ease. And the rare cold breeze makes its way through my delicate skin. Just like the lack of warmth of normal human emotion I once felt. I am so alone so I have silently drawn the image of God in the vast sky so we can have a moment of intimate conversation.

I chose to talk to God because he’s the God that always listens. He’d never judge. He understands me. Pays attention even to the littlest interesting parts of me. He cares about me, he cares how I feel. He knows what my heart desires and deserves. He makes me feel I am worthy of every chance. And I know he is so proud of me. Even if I don’t deserve all of this because of my countless imperfections. He is the only one who will always stay right next to me. He will never abandon me. He will never permit that I’ll be separated from him. Only God makes me believe that it’s not the end of everything but a start of a beautiful something. There are hopes and promises. No matter what plagues or adversities we face upon. God is also giving. He will not let me choose only one when there’s two beautiful things. He will not let me give one up but cherish them both. Even if the other has indignity as they are both blessings. Anything from God is a blessing so we shouldn’t lose grip on one as well as the other. This gives me hope as high as the endless heavens I am gazing. It’s enough that my hopes are oftentimes high and invisible but He makes it abundant and reachable.

God has likewise sent his angels to save me. These are the people who have made so much effort to stay and always right there for me especially when life turns upside down. Days when I had no one, when I had nothing. When the world was grim and I was filled with fear. Nights when I sporadically wake up from bed gasping because I have dreamt of another sudden tragic occurrence or extreme misfortune but I have nobody to call. Those gloomy and rainy days and I began hearing loud rumbling with sudden bolt of the heavens that always leaves me shaking like a leaf. When I was feeling disturbed with uncertainty and mentally troubled about what is happening or what might happen. When I was suffocating from the inside and felt it’s the end of me.

He reminded me that there are people willing to help as long as I’m willing to accept them. Even if I’m not that person they knew I was. I only need to open my eyes and ears. People who did not pay more attention to others’ opinions but on the covenant and fellowship that we have established. So I should stop keeping things to myself and let my head be free from anguish. They’ve been patiently waiting to hear from me, patiently waiting to help me while I’m at the verge of disowning myself. That I need not to do this on my own because I have them since the beginning. I should take time to look at my surroundings. To slow down and pause for a moment, notice that there are eager people around me. Willing to stay and listen without second thoughts and skepticism, come what may. Willing to move mountains. Even willing to carry this oppressive and worrisome weight that I’ve been self-absorbing. Willing to change my fears and anxiety to calmness and bravery.

Forgive me, Father. For once, twice or maybe most of my life, I missed to pray. For many times I forgot to call your name. I’m on my knees earnestly asking you to redeem me. Even if I am not worthy to receive you. I’m sorry as I’ve been so detached and distrustful to your promises because I was affected by my own grievances. I was eaten and weakened by my worries and fears. I have ignored people who have been so determined to listen and endure something difficult for me. Yet I was so unwilling to discern and be persuaded. I want to reconcile and make amends for my lack of consideration and transgressions. I will make sure to give you and your angels the greatest concern in return. I will open my doors to chances I didn’t embrace and will make our relationships better. I will reach out and start apologising for being too guarded and too frightened of those favourable consequences. I will have nothing but pure and enduring faith in your promises.

Please take my hand because I will walk with you from this day on. I will stop counting myself to be apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead. I will open my ears and fill my soul with your spoken words. My eyes shall be opened not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. Seek for your grace and draw myself near not through physical influence but through faith so I may receive mercy and may find grace to help in times of need. I will see your hands in all of your works and in all of those you have made in your image. Because in your mercy, you drive away my fears. In your love, you wipe away my tears.

Dandelion Through Pavements

It must be madness. The way she’s letting things devour her. The way she let things out, came in. And the horror of it, she was attracted to things that no matter how she draw and find transparency, it is never righteous and remains cloudy. She clings to it and soon makes hard for her to get unchained. That no matter how she paints her walls in white, will always appear grey.

Perhaps she’s too reserved in laying herself down in the elysian fields and desires to keep the affliction close. Close enough to tear her down. Close enough to define her and close enough to maker her feel a little less cold. Or maybe she’s too silent and scared that someone is almost scaling the wall she’s built around her. But maybe somewhere along the way she’s ready to face a beautiful chaos. Go let it burn, let her dive into the horror story because maybe it’s the chaos that will let her find where she belong.

And her mind wanders, thinking about something that happened just like 5 years ago or something that happened 24 hours ago or something that may happen 10 years from now. Her mind is like hurricane, distracted. Maybe full of beautiful yet wicked thoughts. It’s 1AM and her mind continues to wander that the hands that wrapped and held her body were bloody. Now she can’t tell if she will bleed or get stained. 

Did she ever tell you to wipe your hands after you shut the door?

It’s finally the time where she has to choose between what is easy and what is right. She’s trying and learning to love the sea from a field of weeds. A sea just where she could flee liberately, innocent and lily-white dandelion. Embracing the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of the horizons bounded only by a vault of clear and untroubled sky. Enough to make her feel little but free. Enough to make her realise that she’s not a seed of weed but sowed for wishes. Tell her she should stop breathing the same air and she’s got to deal with it. Otherwise, time will come the air will get shallow and she has nothing but to stumble and fall on the vine.

Woman, listen. There’s just something I want to tell you. You are beautiful. Remain fragile and bloomy. You are distinctive and precious. Keep your petals radiant and fragrant. There will always be temporary things that are heart-stopping and these will only make you wonder why happiness never last. So cusp them in your hands and let this story end. The winds shall blow it all away.