Olive Tree

I'd like to start growing an olive tree next year and bring it with me from home to home. I love their prevalence and significance throughout the old testament, and I think it would be a fantastic reminder of Gods provision and the importance of roots.

"But I am like an olive tree
flourishing in the house of God;
I trust in God’s unfailing love
for ever and ever."
-Psalm 52:8
New International Version (NIV)

Morning

I left in the sleepy in-between time of the morning;
when the moon was on her way to bed,
and the sun had just hit snooze.
The colors drifted through the sky,
lazy, uninhibited, beautiful.

It was a time of day I’d grown to love.
No matter how hesitant the sun was to rise,
or how slow the moon was to go to bed,
the morning always came.

And so I knew it would be with me,
with my changes slow and small.
As painstaking as sunrise can be,
the morning always comes.


This one doesn't feel done yet, but the beautiful thing about the internet is that I can edit it when I figure out what it needs.

With Open Eyes

Last one for the night I think, a glimpse into Sophomore year.

Things don't change when you close your eyes;
these crazy things don't end.
Time doesn't pass you by;
you can't just play pretend.

Even if you think
it'll be okay,
"If I close my eyes,
it'll go away."

Your problems stay right there;
they're more patient than you thought.
No need to stop and stare,
it'll take everything you've got.

To keep those big eyes peeled
through the darkness of the night.
Your heart will soon be healed;
everything will be all right.
(2005)

Idle Words

This one is a product of Freshman year of highschool. I thought not using punctuation or capitals somehow enhanced it. We're going to cut me some slack for that because I was 14.

you may call me crazy
you can say i'm mad
but they can't be lazy
those thoughts you've never had

they sneak through when you sleep
in the middle of the night
you've never dared to peak
at all the things that might

they might truly be real
they might really be true
they might let you feel
but it's only up to you

you can call them dead
say they're idle too
their meanings can't be read
if your fears cloud your view

these idle words i speak
these strange things i cry
these things that make you weak
they live and never die

Walking

I just re-found my old poetry journal (a phenomenon that's closer to time-travel than anything I've found so far), so the next few posts will be glimpses into the mind of early-teen-Hillary. Brace yourself.

She thought of her hurt
and kept walking.
She thought of her pain
and kept walking.

She thought of the weather,
she thought of the rain,
she ket walking.

Past her tears,
past her memories,
past her fears
she walked.

Past her home,
past her school,
past her town
she walked.

Through her past,
through her present,
through her future
she walked.

She never stopped,
and no one knew
where she was going
or what she'd gone through.

She may have had failures,
she may have had shame,
but, through it all,
God knew her name.
(2003)