Photo by Highlander_______________________________
Lucy stood on the corner with a tear falling down her face. She wiped the hot salty tear off of her cheek, taking the smudge of her mother's lipstick with it. Clutching her lunch box against her chest, she waited bravely, knowing this would be the day that she would be a big girl. The first day of first grade.
She was prepared, with a box full of pencils and crayons and a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue, all with her name written on them in her own hand writing. A box full of things that belonged to Lucy was resting in her little back pack.
She looked across the street and saw taller girls doing cartwheels on the front lawn of the school yard, took a deep breath, and walked to the crosswalk. The woman in the orange vest came up, took her hand, and led her to the independent world called elementary school. It would be okay.
Kate
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
5 comments:
Crosses: Losses and Gains
"At the cross,
at the cross,
where I first saw the light;
and the burden of my soul
washed away.
It was there, by faith,
I received by my sight,
and now...
I am happy
all the day."
It was a cross and loss for Him.
It was a crossroad and gain for me.
It was a place of narrowing for Him.
It was a place of beginning for me.
Thankfully His cross was temporary,
and it led to a grave,
and to a miraculous resurrection.
Thankfully, my crossroad
was the entry point to a new land,
a new path,
and a new life.
"When I survey the wondrous cross,
on which the Prince of Glory died.
My richest gain, I count but loss.
And poor contempt on all my pride."
"Jesus paid it all.
All to Him I owe.
Sin had left a crimson stain.
He washed it: white as snow."
The cross. Empty now.
The future: full of promise.
I'd crossed the line now...
Five people stared at me expectantly, each of them thinking they knew the real me, but they all just knew a different me. A different name with different personality. I'd spilt myself into five different people because I didn't want to be my self.
"Don't tell me really did this." my brother Matt groaned next to me. "Kelsey! You lied to all these people."
"Her name isn't Kelsey." Protested Derek, from the internet cafe I went to every Saturday, "She's Angelina!" He said as if it were obvious. Every one burst out talking at once, becoming more confused when they relized what I'd done. They glared at me now, feeling betrayed. I looked to Matt for help but he silently shook his head. I'd gotten myself into it, he wasn't going to help me get out. It was hard to explain why I'd lied without giving too much away. I was too embarassed to admit the real me. The poor me. Who secretly lived in her brother's college dorm room. Who was lonely at school. Who needed glasses but couldn't afford them.
One by one the people I'd lied to, befriended and betrayed, drifted away with exasperation.
"Whos' the real you?" Derek finally asked. "No one." I murmered. I couldn't look at him, shamed by the look he was giving me. The answer seemed to satisfy him and he turned and left. I looked at Matt, staring at his text book, but not seeing it.
"Are you really that embarassed?"
"I tried not to be but..." he cut me off,
"Stop crying." I wiped my face with the back of my hand. "You crossed the line Kelsey. Don't do it again." He warned. "But don't be embarassed. I think you have a career as an actress."
We cross paths often,
But this time we crossed swords;
The good times forgotten,
We mutilate using words.
I lashed out with an insult,
You back-handed with a curse;
My eyes spoke of mistrust,
Your heart spoke of something worse.
X marks the spot,
It's a dead day on your calendar;
To avoid forgiving, we forgot,
Avoid each other's existence forever.
Lucy stood on the corner with a tear falling down her face. She wiped the hot salty tear off of her cheek, taking the smudge of her mother's lipstick with it. Clutching her lunch box against her chest, she waited bravely, knowing this would be the day that she would be a big girl. The first day of first grade.
She was prepared, with a box full of pencils and crayons and a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue, all with her name written on them in her own hand writing. A box full of things that belonged to Lucy was resting in her little back pack.
She looked across the street and saw taller girls doing cartwheels on the front lawn of the school yard, took a deep breath, and walked to the crosswalk. The woman in the orange vest came up, took her hand, and led her to the independent world called elementary school. It would be okay.
This X may look like a letter of the alphabet to some, but turned ever so slightly; I am reminded of the pieces of wood that were carried in all of His strength, to allow me (the sinner) an eternity of freedom and love.
Post a Comment