Grey to Green

When I was born, my parents loved each other. 

My father had already been hurt, and it seemed to him that he was losing a child. 

My mother was young and full of warmth.

When I was born, my name meant "God is Judge"

A name that tore apart my fearful friends. My name set fire to the cancer that ate at their raw skin.

In the wake of the grand rupture of the marriage, It kept me sane.

Sometimes. Sometimes, they're wasnt enough sheet rock in the walls to keep the fists from coming through. Sometimes, the monsters always knew I would be hiding under the covers. Sometimes, my glazed eyes weren't glazed enough to keep the vivid horror from ingraining itself into my conscience. 

I would lay my face on the floor, as stress breath ran through my mouth, and I tried to suck any life out of our dead carpet into my heart. Enough of my life-fluid leaked out to fill the house with spirits. And the paint was falling off the walls from all of.. our

                                                                                                        scratching. Five anxious bodies, terrified of our home going up in flames.

What he wouldn't know till late, was I burnt as I slept. Dreamt about apocalypse and apparitions. The madness kept me clawing through my mind, they kept me chained to that ghost; knew him as half enchantment, half curse. What a wicked sound came from his head; I tried to keep him at bay, but I had not the know-how to keep him out. I plead with my father, "please hear this song" but his ears were clogged with rust, and his light had been reduced to a collection of jars he looked at when he got real desperate. 

My song, became angry and defiled. That spirit of mine rose up a war anthem, rusty and sun-burnt. Its breath was quick and quiet, waiting for short bursts of wept tears and screaming anguish. And for a while, I just kept my head up because my heartbeat was the songs drumbeat. Sure, I knew that the All-King's Great Commission lied further than what my anthem was reaching; that he planned for my victory not just survival. I could never deny that there was a melody, but I couldn't harmonize.

Maybe because I had to thrust fire deep into the source of distortion, maybe because I took the SWEET GIFTS and twisted them into steel to pierce myself with. My bones werent stable enough for me, and in my anxiety and isolation I took myself apart and rearranged my soul. I wasn't building to conquer an empty world, I was preparing(waiting) for lighting to strike the third, the fourth time.

So it had to be burned, all of it had to blackened into ash and soot.

Mourning.

Sleepless regret.

But, at this instant.

I hear an old song from my youth. Childhoods treasure.

I feel it come shining through my skin when I'm in the forest.

It smells like apples and soap.

Every spring has been grey. Winter passed though the air into my mind. I've wanted to free myself from how senseless death seemed. Ive wanted to bond myself to how precious life is. To have that spirit that pulled through darkness, over the enemies expectations, into a higher place.

I see a strong tree of good wood standing on my hill. It is blooming. King's initial intention. 

Thats his judgement for me.

You may not understand, but then again

you are not judge.

God is Judge.