Trauma is a termite

Trauma is a termite
who brought its mate into my soul.
And these two deceitful critters
fed on the fixed world I've always known.
They came with gnashing teeth; they came with growling stomachs;
they came with intent to breed.
These two bestial lovers
got real busy quick and popped out a fam'ly tree.
Their little brood of devils
had their feast and fill of me.
They chomped on all my innocence,
and gorged on my young hope,
they chewed right through my every guard
and whittled til I broke.
I feel the hollow places
where carved woodwork used to be;
I feel the creepy crawly legs--
so ever present yet so unseen.
I'm searching for a riddant,
I hope it's not too late;
I feel my soulwork creaking loudly,
I hear its rafters shake.
I can't just buy a new body--
I know that, but can't bear it.
There has to be a Carpenter,
who has mastered broken spirits.

Doodling

I think God doodles my name all over his notebooks. (Doodle from a doodle blog.)

And my dad says, God has my picture on his fridge.

Psalm 139: 17-18

17 How precious to me are your thoughts God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you.

Yum