It’s been said I run so fast, but there is One that’s faster,
One who walks upon the winds and is the tiger’s master.
Trailing on Her garmets quick and in Her steps so graceful
There it is I find Her draft and drink Her flow so faithful.
I feel all the power of the pulse of life in me.
I cannot hold back this river running fresh and free.
There’s a turbine in my heart that churns and whirs and hums
amidst the power and percussion pulsing rhythmic thrums.
Well, I did not receive a choice when I was fashioned thus!
I had no input, say, I couldn’t even raise a fuss!
No…placed inside this body rough and slow and made of dirt
I am a dancer graceful, runner swift, and princess pert!
I am a mind mercuiral, I am a soul of grace!
My heart is fashioned intricate, my spirit is spun lace.
And I have wings and courage, I am bold enough to soar
on winds to mountains high, and then dive deep to delve for more.
I am Charissa Grace. I always have been she.
Imprisoned in this body dark and struggling to be…
My deep flow furious is just a shadow of my thought
so I will simply open and bring forth the things I’ve bought.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Reblogged this on Jessica A Bruno (waybeyondfedup).
This is like an anthem to yourself.
Awwww…thanks Kat!! Ya know, I was feeling a bit that way. Cus I am always faster, or more, or too…ya know? That Charissa she is too _________. *Fill in the blank*
So I decided to just own it! 🙂
Well, you owned it. 🙂 (And that’s a good thing!)
So identified with this:
“My heart is fashioned intricate, my spirit is spun lace.”
One of my friends sent this to me for my birthday:
“1. Lace. Woven together with Expertise, Vision. Delicate but strong, crocheted by her Redeemer and often used for beautiful Service to others–not reserved for just holidays and the highest of classes, but offering herself at a high price every day, despite the judgment of others, with abandon and Care for any hand that would rest upon her.”
Reminds me of you too.
I found this rise up in me…over things we spoke of about how time flows for me, stuck there too fast…or languished there too slow…
Usually I feel like a freak when the flow has just run rampant and copious everywhere and it has actually been restrained sommat by me, is but a tithe…but this poem sorta reared her head up inside my heart and said
“no…no. Charissa, you are fashioned thus. You never had a say or choice, and thus it is not you guilty of anything for flowing!!” So boom…off I went in a little rhyme to soften it to myself as I wrote.
I have a lil poem from long ago (Regression) that goes like this: “But when you criticize me, Catch also a cricket by the wing and accuse her of chirruping!”