Floundering

This strength not of my own I find,

A resting place in life sublime.

Within,without I look around

To see, to quench my fear. 

It runs; it hides and fades into oblivion.

I now have doomed myself to fate. 

I work; I strive to find my end,

Yet stand perplexed, is this real?

Bereft, floundering I hide.

Quivers wrench my body.

I want to find again

This peace that evades me

And leaves me cowering.

This poem and picture is original work of Mary Beth Weaver and hereby copyrighted.

A Bella I May Be

A Bella I May Be

The psychological need to have every hair in place.

No stain on my blouse or zits on my face.

The perfect shoes to match my clothes

I feel like I already need repose.

What if my heel breaks or I loose a nail?

I cannot let my performance fail.

To be on display for everyone to see

Is weary situation for me to be.

Yet I rise again, day by day

To put myself upon display.

The real me who cares not for perfection or dress 

Is all but extinguished in this mess.

A bella I may be in form, so sweet. 

The expectations I cannot meet.

So still and sleek, a sculpture I stand

Your perception of me is a shifting as sand.

All text hereby claimed and copyrighted by license of Mary Beth Weaver.

Invisible

Invisible

My shape is indistinct

Up against the wall 

Unnoticed and dejected.

I feel so lonely.

My skin crawls with longing

To feel a gentle touch.

I want to know that feeling

Of being special and loved

To someone.

I want to shine so brightly

So someone will pick me out

Above all the rest

 And truly notice me.

Yet I fade into the background

Same old clothes as yesterday.

No one says a word to me.

I feel as if I've become

A part of this wall.

Fear wells up within me;

I am invisible.

Invisible is hereby copyrighted by Mary Beth Weaver who claims sole ownership and license to this text above.

My Alternate Self

                             My Alternate Self

I move in rote action

Across the barren sidewalk

Raindrops hit my cheek

My muscles, tight and weak,

Quiver.

I almost drop my books

Tucked underneath my arm.

I feel the judgmental looks

From warm glazed windows

Forbidden.

Why do I try to fit in?

Or change myself for acceptance?

To have the

Right actions

Right thoughts

Right beliefs.

I fear so much;

I cannot be myself.

The weight of turned backs

Is too much to bear.

I shrink away. 

Submitted.

Inside my soul cries out

Struggling against the norm.

I want to know myself

To let my spirit free. 

Free to be who I am

Without judgment

Without guilt

Without remorse.

I am who I am.

I am free.

Yet al that is seen

Is my alternate self. 

Defeat overwhelms me.

I am stuck in bondage.

A little voice cries weakly.

Free me. 

Mary Beth Weaver

All text "Mhy Alternate Self" is hereby copyrighted by Mary Beth Weaver

Blessing and contentment

I realized today just how blessed I am. I have a loving God who wants me to love him. Friends who care about me and share intimately with me. Sisters and parents who invest and sacrifice for me. A church family who  commune with me and worship God with me. I could go on and on relaying the different ways God has blessed me and yet I am still not content. 

There is one thing that my heart longs for more than anything else. I experience the love of a man. One who chose me above all the rest who desires me and cherishes me. 

Yet today in chapel the speaker challenged me to really think about whether I am following God with my heart not just in actions. This is hard because I feel like I have to give up my dream to be able to follow him with my whole heart and give him everything. Still I know that this is what I am commanded to do. To trust God with my future and follow him in the meantime. 

So I challenge you to come along with me and start living in awareness of God and what he wants in your life. I am hoing to focus on the blessings I already have before being unsatisfied with what God has given me.

Divergent: different doesn't mean bad

I have recently read the first book of the Divergent series. I thoroughly enjoyed the story plot and the characters. Tris and Four come alive in ways I never would have imagined. They are brave when I secretly wish I could be, defiant when they need to be, selfless when they desire anything but selflessness. They are divergent. In a world that puts people in factions and doesn't want those who think for themselves this is not good. But it is a reminder to me and can be for you my readers that being different isn't always bad. Tris puts her life on the line to save others. Four faces his greatest fear trying to give people a chance to save themselves. Being divergent is not rebellion against authority alone or a defiant self-pleasing act: it is recognizing one'a human nature and controlling it. It's truly living.

Power of prayer

Today I got to go to a prayer group on campus. It was student led and all us girls shared from our hearts. I could be real there. I found that my problems really did mean something to them and that I can share and bear their burdens too. 

Robert Frost's "The Demiurge's Laugh"

"It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon's trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god. It was just as the light was beginning to fail That I suddenly heard-all I needed to hear: it has lasted meant and many a year. The sound was behind me instead of before, A sleepy sound, but mocking half, As of one who utterly couldn't care. The Demon arose from his wallow laugh, Brushing the dirt from his eye as he went; And well I knew what the Demon meant. I shall not forget how his laugh rang out. I felt as a fool to have been so caught, And checked my steps to make pretense It was something among the leaves I sought (Though doubtful whether he stayed to see). Thereafter I sat me against a tree."                  This poem portrays a man who realizes that he has spent so much of his life following a lie. This Demon convinces this man that he is a god but the man finds the true nature of him. Now he knows not where he should turn. He questions everything. Who can he trust?

Thoughts in the morning

I wake up tired, barely keeping my eyes open. Thoughts go straight to the sleep I don't have. I go through my morning routine like a robot. Where is my joy this morning? My love of life? I should be cherishing this day that I've been given to live. The birds singing, the fresh fruit, surrounded by people who love me and a God who died for me. I must capture and make the most of this opportunity I have to influence life.