Unread texts swiped across my screen.
I’d never call it personal—
I’ve left him on read for a week,
and I don’t reply to her as quickly as I used to.
I hear the ding,
I watch it flash,
and for a few fleeting moments,
I stare at black, bold text
with fading, flooding thoughts.
Yesterday
my fingertips were quick,
tapping out a conversation
and pouring my heart
to the heart on the other end.
Today
my hands are so slow
you can feel them drag through time zones,
and they stiffen in the cold
with every ticking moment.
“I’m bad at texting,”
I could warn at every meeting,
and they might laugh
after they see how a 9:24 question
can be answered at 9:25.
I might laugh too,
because of the way my fingers dance
on the days my soul feels light.
But it grows tired sometimes, and little words like
“How are you?”
are a greater burden than I imagined.
I’ve learned to have patience
with everything from the pace of winter
to the one who is meant to have my heart,
and all the whispers in between.
But I never quite grasped
how to be patient with myself,
and “Seen nine days ago”
feels like failure stamped across
dull scars of insecurity.
“I’m sorry. I was busy.”
The title of friend is a weighted one,
but I’ve taken the letters of privilege
and taught them to spell burden.
I’ve learned that patience
is harder to grasp than the wind,
and when I need space,
it is not heard as abandonment.
A patient heart for others
is a flower that can only grow fully
when I first learn to plant
patience for myself.

Cindy Green is a forest-wandering, poetry-scribbling stargazer with messy notebooks and messy thoughts. Despite her love for all of God’s creation, sunflowers and stars in particular have a way of sneaking into both her writing and her heart (but you won’t hear her complaining about it). She is an amateur sword-wielder with a Highland-dancing warrior spirit who also writes letters to the moon and considers the sky her best friend. A focused daydreamer, organized pack rat, and oblivious observer, she is a self-professing ambivert (or a living contradiction) who deeply feels both the beauty and fallen state of the world. Through her words, she hopes to describe the indescribable and form personal connections with people while reflecting a love for her Savior and a passion for everything she touches.
How beautiful.
Wow!
This poem is really good xD
Beautifully written! And I can so relate
This spoke to me on a personal level 😭
Wow…
This was just amazing…. I have tried before to put these thoughts into words, about the pain felt whenever someone asks, “How are you”- it’s never turned out this perfectly beautiful. Thank you so much for this, I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t alone on this <3
“but I’ve taken the letters of privilege
and taught them to spell burden.”
Girl. Say it louder for the people in the back. What a beautiful way to capture something that so many people feel and validating emotions that will make so many people feel understood. Great job!
Oh gosh, Cindy. I hadn’t read this poem of yours before, but man, did it speak to me!
This. This is so beautiful and timely and hit me deep. Thanks for sharing!