Like a kid on the high dive....

I seem to be stuck. My legs don't want to get me any closer to the edge, for fear of having the ground give way under them.
I had all the intentions of jumping, as I climbed the ladder...
But once I got here, my stomach had left me, and it waved at me from the ground, as if to ask me, "What are you doing all the way up there?".

But, unlike the public pool, there is no one to toss me in. I'm left here, alone. In a constant battle of my will, one side of me, quite similar to me 10 years ago...has the confidence and courage to jump, the other part is more comfortable with where I am... but knows something needs to give.Meaning, I know it is not for me to stay on the high dive. I must come down, either by retreat, or by taking the leap.
I know the way I prefer.

One thing is very similar to the pool.
ALL eyes are on me.
They brand me, make me twitch and cringe under their weight.
The water is suddenly quite inviting, if only to soothe the burning.

The odds of humiliation in retreat seem high, suddenly.
The thought of accomplishment is overpowering, and just as suddenly, the leap is made simple.

I sure hope I land straight, or this could hurt...

The taste of something sweeter.

Monday night, she's drinkin'.
Tuesday night, she's stoned.

Wednesday night she decides,
to spend her night alone...
But Thursday morning is blurry,
and no name's walking to the door.


Fridays never come soon enough,
but never leave in time,
Saturday is just a way
to finish up yesterday's wine.

When Sunday morning comes, she begins again,
a whirlwind at her feet.
She wears a dress of loneliness,
which is tossed inside the breeze.


She takes her rounds on the bars ,
and the doors close behind her.
Her walk and her talk make married men gawk,
the rest follow close behind her.

The choices she makes, always seem wrong,
but that's the way life goes.
It is hard to choose a better way,
when this is what she knows.


She waits around not knowing,
that the journey starts with her,
she'll take a step that begins her trek,
her only finish is when she's through.

'Cause on Monday night she's singing,
Tuesday night she'll dance.
Wednesday night and Thursday mornin' are just another chance.

Then Friday came, and she was laughin'.
Saturday gave her another grin.
When Sunday mornin' finally came,
her life could now begin.

She left the rush and whirlwind,
her lonely dress was gone...
Instead, she wore a gown of Grace,
and stood in a steady calm.

© 2009 J.M. Zakrzewski

Today was different... I felt it in the air.

I got up early, just like every other Sunday. I got ready for church, as usual... my drive there was uneventful.... though I did doze off for a split second... unusual, but understandable because of how late I stayed up, and how early it was.

But when I got in the door, I felt it... I saw it, too. We had roughly, 3 times our usual attendance. It was 'Fast and Testimony' day, and I stood and gave mine, as usual.
But today, unlike all the other days, I had had no intention of doing so. I just DID.

The author within me rarely allows any sort of impromptu public speaking... It is hard for me to walk into any situation without some sort of decided path, in my mind, that I wish to follow.
After I was done today, I hardly remember what I said. Which is even more unusual for me... I don't like forgetting what I say. :|

When I get home... I usually rush to take off my coat and tie, and eat as soon as possible. I'm still in my coat and tie, I've been home almost 3 hours, and I don't quite yet feel like eating. The sanctity of the day is taped to my back.

So, I think this is what I've been aiming for... Oddly enough, I felt better after having spoken than I ever do writing a piece that I deem fantastic. The feeling has been there all day. It is STILL here.

The more I give up what I want, the more I let my will be absorbed by the World; the more the World gives me what I want, I am fulfilled in my denial of self.