september

Green leaves burn orange;
And trees fall sticks;
Clouds bring rain;
Breeze brings fall.

Time passes,
Slowly in the moment,
Quickly at the end.
Time passes.

And the question,
Avoided,
Unwanted,
Comes to mind.

Am I in the right place?

.

but this feeling is only restlessness,
which comes with transition.
and I know I can rest,
knowing Your heart’s disposition:

to love me
and to have me find my all in You.

\ lea /

home.

when you move,
it’s easy to forget
the places you’ve been —
the life you’ve lived.

I’ve got a farm in Michigan —
10 stable years.

I’ve got a house in Budapest —
brick on a hill.

I’ve got friends in Indiana —
some of the best I’ve known.

I’ve got a family in Chicago
and those city lights alone.

and they’re all different
but somehow —

they’re all home.

\ lea /

new place

faces everywhere,
so unknown.
unsure of the outward
that I show.

American culture

Formerly mature.
Until I met you.
Better at adults,
Thinking deeply.

But then
I felt the pressure
to fit in
with you.

And I think I changed.

Nearly lost the deep side of me,
Now not knowing how to speak thoughtfully,
And I don’t want this, but
I’ve grown into your immaturity.

\ lea /

[note: I’m not saying that all Americans are immature. I am an American, and I lived overseas for a few years when I was younger, an experience that really matured and grew me socially, and when I returned to the States, I fell into the immaturity of my peers]

home

moving once again.
but it doesn’t feel like moving.
since my parents stay here.
since my room stays here.

I’ll miss this room,
one of several that I didn’t grow up in
But another that has housed many friends, old and new
And that has seen me through such growth and change.

I’ll miss this chair
– a green armchair that was my sister’s –
that I tell everyone who walks through my door
to sit in.

I’ve read
prayed
studied
thought

written
talked
cried
and slept in it.

I’m still a little nervous
that I’ll feel alone,

but it’ll all be here when I get back
and I’ll find a home away from home.

\ lea /

graduation

Never again will I belong to crowded halls
Or to half-baked choirs
Nor spend all of calculus
Waiting for it to be over

Not realizing the small joys of high school
The simple class to class day
The talking, the laughing –
The freedom and the possibilities –

Choosing to have fun when we had no choice in coming.

And now it’s over.

But on to different

On to new

On to good

And hard

And life-shaping

Things.

\ lea /