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When you see yourself as dust, I see you as rubies. You throw mud at yourself, As I plant daisies. You diligently take care of me, As my watchful eye grows lazy. My gold you have never desired. But to call you a good steward I'd be a liar. For you can't see the value in what you hold that is most dear. Who you will entrust it with is my greatest fear. By: Heather Alaine Smith

I prepared you dishes chefs would have proudly claimed. I carefully selected my words so your pain I would not inflame. I bestowed gifts to you like a beloved child on their Birthday. I gave you my time as if I held in my hands all of my days. But when the truth stared me in the face, Everything else fell to the floor in it's place. None of these things you ever required. It was my love that you utmost desired. By: Heather Alaine Smith

To where will I go? For you have the words of life I know. All I bring is myself with sailor knots of lead necklaces resting upon my neck. My shoes shine like a tarnished penny as my grin cracks with force like dry boards of an old ship wreck. But my holy nets all come up dry. Alas, I look around me and what do I see? That others are dancing and you call me to sing. Babes I thought too young have filled my place. I am filled with joyful pride as you dry my tears of disgrace.

Do I dare visit this place? This hurricane my mind. Will I be banished here to write again and again but resolve nothing in all this time? I should not belittle all that I've gained. But it's hard to hold my head up when the mountains are so high. Carefully building words in a bottle. I send them out into the violent vicious waves of the world. But if one soul is found then my labor is not in vain. I know that for my pen to write I must not drown in my own rain. Silently I sc

Broken, lazy, different, slow, uncontributing, low performing, unreliable, a burden says the world. But knock on our door, come into our home, and come sit in our chair and see you and the world from our window. It's beautiful, astounding, mesmerizing, overwhelming, tempting, terrifying, and cruel. And the people in it beautifully painted pictures, high performing robots, perfectly polished in etiquette, iron strong, hard hearted business people, educated scholars, a factory

My heart is heavy with stones of sorrow. My eyes pain to much to look towards tomorrow. Stones secretly, carefully concealed in my soul. To think I was wise was the vision of a fool. To heal my wounds, everyone prescribes a different book. But the hardback truth, is that I'm too weak to take a look. My failure and disappointment stare me in the face and make me feel like a convict in his shackles of disgrace. Continuing to run the race, as I wait for my pardon on death row. I

You ask if I want to come outside to play. As I look down at my dress of melancholy grey. The thought of disappointing brings swells of tears to my eyes. Though I've simply run out of transparent lies. My glass facade of happiness is shattered on the ground. I'm too weak to play the part of a boisterous clown. Perhaps in this season it is best to be honest. To hold onto hope when the darkness is strongest. By: Heather Alaine Smith

Brick by brick I build this wall around my temple my heart. Broken I build these barriers that should have stood from the start. After continuing to shift my structure I realize what I've done. I've been remodeling to please the masses when it should have been only for One. By: Heather Alaine Smith

The bully of appearances how long you have tormented me. You bind my hands and steal my serenity. You mask yourself as good intentions and holiness But I will play your fool no further. For I know what you really are underneath all the shine and sparkle. Your breath is vile and your stature shallow. Your hollowed out chest puffs up with pride. You yank on the reins of manipulation running over all who stand in your way. Oh, how I want nothing to do with you! If "you are every

I am proud of you. You who are depressed, exhausted, overworked, alienated, beaten, and broken. As you crack open the door, you open yourself up to my imperfect people, my church, my bride. Saved by grace, with good works in hand, they strive to bring redemption to the world by my death and resurrection. I have not forgotten you. I have always been here waiting for you, but only you can choose to walk through the door. -Heather Alaine Smith

I filled out the forms. I sent the e-mails. Denied. Every Time. Chronic illness doesn't understand. By the world's standards I am unemployed. But my reality is that I can never take off. Yes, there are good days, but they are days not weeks not months. I am not alone. There are millions of us. Misunderstood. Overlooked. Forgotten. Just longing for some time off. By: Heather Alaine Smith

My mother's hands were chapped and dry; acrid land. She washed the never ending line of dishes, the piles of soiled laundry, and us. No accolades, nor awards, a mumbled thanks in passing (maybe). To the hands that held so much together. Through the caring, cleaning, and scrubbing. In the background. Laughing, caring, crying. Her prints were washed away. Barely leaving a mark, but her presence has shaped mountains. Her prints gone. Slowly taken. But not forgotten. Like so many