Time.

Written By: Deanna Marie Battista

It’s become a friend once more. But still as the seconds and minutes trickle on, there’s a distance within this friendship that is beginning to grow. I’m not sure how we got here. This parting of separate ways all the while staying in the same place. Moving towards even more depths than I couldn’t have ever imagined before. I’m trying my hardest not to knock on heaven’s door. This heart of mine I still hold and carry in my hands. This clock, that has me catching my breath and not wanting to let go of the same symbol that keeps its brand on the fingertips of what if’s. The question mark yet again. I’m not sure if I like this distance of what time feels like it’s become. I’ve inherited so many things over the years within this sphere of lessons learned. Both broken and healed. Blessed and cursed. I’m not sure if I prefer when time was my enemy or worse. I used to hold out for the hope of being preserved in the blue moon glow of ever after bliss. That corner of my heart that the pain from the Arthritis and others around couldn’t stamp out enough to scratch the surface. That pain runs deeper through my veins. I wonder even now, how this voice of mine became so loud. Not used to wandering in this big unknown the world has always been. I’m used to the handprints within the worn wood of my windowsill that remembers me; like I pray you will one day. How much longer will this starlight dust not be able to reciprocate? The look I think I know will be in your eyes. If not for these four walls, this blank page that blinks back at my soul waiting for me to write. If not for the empty lines in the notebook pages that call out my name. What is a catholic girl with a catholic girl’s heart to do? The princess in the tower, I’ve mastered. I’ve always held this heart of mine close. But as the years began to unfold, I too held out my heart, saving a space for your own, and holding Christ’s heart in my hands too. The weight of ours is immense, almost the same but different then the vacancy of where I wait for yours to lend. Maybe this is what was always supposed to happen. With these blueberry tears that I’m trapped in. It’s not just me. It’s not just the blur of iridescence that I think will catch you off guard. I think it’s the fear of the Lord. Not to be afraid. Not to be scared. Not even for the parts of your confused heart that will rage on more than before. I think it’s for the greater question mark that will brand your hands that haven't yet come to hold mine. I think it’s something that time will haunt us both in disguise. I pray that I am wrong. But after all these windows and doors that have shut and closed, I know that this fairytale castle is waiting for us both. I wonder the name that will replace the brand of the question when. I wonder about the kiss on my lips, those letters of yours will awaken. I wonder if you even know how I will always tend to them and never dare upend the gift up above sent. I think my pen has been laughing during the last three months. This in and out of rhyming and then some. This confused yet graceful fracture of me tripping over myself. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never felt the unstitched pattern of a non-broken love’s blessing, uncursed remorse.The parts of the little girl that wants to be the moon of your life. For the parts of the young woman that truly has been shedding the parts of the sunlight that has twisted like a knife. I know the day will come… That’s just it. I don’t question if. I question when. It’s something else to be known by heaven. It’s a gift. A heavy one. But in this waiting, I’m yours. Just as you and I are both the Lord’s. Whether you know it or not, I’m praying for you. I’m praying for your eyes, I’m praying for your mind. I’m praying for the man that will fight the dragon, be strong to withstand temptation, and beat the evil villain. This fairytale girl’s heart of mine… Are you really surprised? I’m waiting for you, through the seasons and the clock that wants even me to circle around the worst of thoughts. The ones that freeflow around my mind. Even just walking I’m praying for stop signs. Why can’t I put my pen down, even when it’s not in my hands. Is there some sort of flashing warning that heaven can send before I despair yet again? I fear for the next bout of time to come my way. I wonder what other emotions my sadness will be seasoned with and unable to keep from weeping until that day. This willow branch of flourish with a sorrow like perfume. I wear this sadness like the moon that sets in the sky flickering the tears in her eyes that even the stars try to miss to see. It hurts them too. They can see you and me. I wonder who has it worse, the angels on the moon, the baby blue dew I wear on my wounds. The fragrance of both my tears and imagination that blooms. Can you feel the bruises you can’t see like I can? Can you hear the whisper of angels' choirs and my heart beats mixed together? I wonder what will rain now until next November.

Until the next letter from heaven falls down, catch your breath the way I’ve been trying my hardest to catch these tears. Run through the free flow of God’s promise within both our souls. I don’t know you yet, but with these pages that keep filling up; the map of tomorrow where love will no longer daunt echoes on. There will be a time where the growing of seeds and blueberry preserves insulates every worry, and fear. But more than that, it will keep my heart steady, unafraid yours will disappear. I’m ready to know you. But until that happens. These letters of my heart you can hold. Until a spring of tears and another diary from God and myself, what this will help you more than keep to sew.. Peaceful blissed and homestead days. Heaven will know you in your learned slow to steady way out of the maze. But I pray the Lord keeps you… even if I’m never meant to.  

r.f.h

Yours Truly, 

                Deanna Marie 

                              Always Writing with Light