Home

people sitting on the edge of a cliff

Photo by Angelo Duranti

Her passion is tender.

Her pain is massive.

Her mind is lithe and quick.

Her body is no longer as swift.

 

Her temple once was a house of cards,

built by her birth, her fear, and her works.

Now she stands on the rock called Jesus

careful to follow him with her cross.

 

A new temple foundation built,

she is sure of this The Holy One.

He makes all things new with his Holy breath,

and will lead her in both life and death…

Home.

Get the Kill Shot (based on a true story)

man in camouflage army uniform holding rifle

Photo by Kony Xyzx

 

She has been hiding here for almost three days…she is basically lying in a sewer. The smell and wetness don’t affect her anymore. To get the shot she must not move. The target is hiding out in a bombed out building. She didn’t eat, barely sipped enough water to stay alive and wore basically a diaper for urine. She has had very little solid food in her so her bowels did not move…she stayed hydrated and that is key but if the shot took much longer she would inevitably grow weaker. One time she stayed in a position for six days…recovery was rough. She would need intravenous fluids after this and a push of vitamins and electrolytes as well but she knew her body and she knew her window of time and the clock was running.
She is well camouflaged by a versatile cape that also provided some protection from rain and dampness. Her small frame is every inch muscle. She is tall and lean. Her rifle is wrapped in strips of burlap and tied down with yarn to ensure no reflection from the sun. To be a good sniper you simply must have common sense. It is a matter of fact. What is the distance to the target? How will gravity influence the bullet across its travel distance? What are the wind conditions? Is the target moving? Is the target getting too comfortable with his hiding place and becoming less vigilant? If the target is moving, how fast is his speed? Most people believe being a good sniper is all about control and having the best rifle but she begged to differ. She believed it all came down to what she believed about herself, about what she knows she is capable of, and what she is willing to do to get “the shot” the first time. She does “know” her rifle intimately however. It is like a part of her body. She knows the rifles scope like she knows her husband. She is precise about everything. Being the best sniper involves making decisions in the split of a millisecond and knowing it is the right decision without question. She is able to slow her mind. She thinks “I am one with this sewer, I am sound. By the time you hear it and try to process it, it’s too late because I am already gone.”
Yes she is a woman. She is a soldier. She is a Special Forces soldier. She is here to serve her country. She does not worry about PTSD or being raped by anyone. Those are the only subjects most of the world like to talk about when it comes to women in the military. She has never been disrespected by male soldiers and she has never disrespected a male soldier. Her calling is to be the best soldier she can be and she is a good one. She is an even better sniper. She will not hesitate to kill the enemy. She does not count her kills but she has never regretted even one of them. She has saved the lives of hundreds of soldiers by doing her job and being the best. She is a daughter, sister, wife, and mother. She is a woman. She is brave and she is one of the elite in her field. She is part of a controversy, not by her choice, in America regarding women in the military but she will carry on because her country needs her. She is paving the way for other smart determined women soldiers. She has counted the cost and is willing to pay the cost. She is an American hero…ahhh, here is the moment, the millisecond has arrived, and she takes the shot…it is done.

The Quiet Side, A Different Peace…

I

two boat on ocean during golden time

Photo by Skitterphoto

 

The North shore of my piece of sugar white heaven faces the sound (Bay) side of the island.

The three mile bridge stands sentinel guard and my  small bay is dotted with white sails stirring my heart.

The bridge that brings me home to my nautical world.

The smell of fish and salt is a soothing balm to a weary girl.

The hermit crabs do a miniature square dance that leads them safely home.

The Sandpipers play hopscotch in the tide pool foam

The Gulls swoop and squawk over schools of fish and bones

There is a different peace on the Sound, the quiet side.

It always feels like the end of the day here where the tired come home to rest.

Like a sweet baby’s coo the waves lap upon the shore.

The “Quiet Side” is what the locals call the back door.

And are happily living and dying on this island right here.

 

 

 

 

 

The end of this war will bring no comfort…

shallow photography of usa flag

Photo by Sawyer Sutton 

 

This polarizing political war will soon be over they say

I cannot see how that End will bring comfort in any way

For by that End our country and its people are shred

Our values and Constitution covered in bloodshed.

 

The ruin of our people lay amidst  hatred and untruth

Every one must win and be right no matter it’s use

These illnesses cannot be conquered by the grave

Unless we turn to the only One who saves.

 

 

 

 

 

A Pure Knowing…

bald eagle on flight near rock formation

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger 

 

A pure (unmixed, unadulterated, not touched by any other substance) knowing lay within me because you are Holy…

A finished and utter humility drives me face down to the secret place…

I am undone without the High Priest of whom my lips are unworthy to utter his name…

I enter in because of Jesus and call out to The Holy One…

for I am hidden by the shadow of His wings and allowed to soar into the Presence of my God and King…

I am every blue on the color wheel…

 

pexels-photo-326055.jpeg

 

I am the girl in the dream, the girl in the hour glass.

I am every blue on the color wheel.

I rise on a great floating bubble that a child just blew out of a plastic jar of soap.

The bubble is Robin-egg blue and I am continually moving toward you.

I am the girl in the dream, the girl clasping turquoise ribbons attached to the moon.

My skin looks quicksilver blue like the Moon.

My heart is an open door that is deep blue like a navy school uniform blazer.

I turn the glacier blue door knob and I am permanently moving toward you.

I am the girl in the dream, the girl who is every blue on the color wheel.

I am soaring up toward the baby powder-blue stars, the blue-gray fog is lifted.

My blue-gray eyes finally see you and my Faith has been made sight.

Love in War…

low angle shot of an old apartment building exterior with worn out paint

Photo by Aleksandar Pasaric

 

He wanted to run but also to stay there forever

Her half smile incongruous in this sad place

Yet still she was  so strong and resilient in the face of pain…

He knew he could never forget gray blue deep set eyes like hers

She belonged in a world with no war

to explore her poetry and the violin music She played…

She looked straight into his eyes and said, “don’t I know you?

It stung him like a wasp that perhaps she did not remember 

but then her eyes fluttered like a butterfly wing…

He smiled back at her as she picked up her violin and he knew he would not run away…