Boys with their wooden swords and rounded bellies With mud streaked across their cheeks With the turbulence they conceive Their wrestling and writhing As their mothers scrub the blood and sweat and grass of their clothes, they walk into the forest with wooden crowns and raised chins Boys determined to incept turmoil Even in birth, the sweat wiped from their mothers brow as they bear down, they pound against their mothers womb demanding their retribution for being locked

Waiting is the hardest thing we will ever have to do Because time moves the same speed no matter how we feel about it 7 years will be 7 years, 4 minutes is 4 minutes, God is gracious though, He allows us distraction yet no matter how we fill the space between now and what we are waiting for, we still have to sit quietly and allow time to tick by. Maybe the raw definition of patience is the yearning of love. Maybe the true explication of one emotion is only truly discover

What a privilege it is to have soft curves and round bellies To feel your skin loose its firmness and your hair bleed its color dry To watch your stark hips widen from life and body ache with use To be told your bones are growing frail from hard work and your hands callous from harsh summers What a gift age is To think of all the laughter and warm meals one must reach that our bodies now imprint this pattern of joy The early morning coffees and late night drinks that we