Exhilaration 2 (What I Thought Was Exhilarating Has A New Flavor)

It is cold out, and my nose is dripping
It’s kind of hot, too, but I’m not sweating
My eyes are both watery and dry—can that be possible?

I’ve got the gear now and I look the part
Bright red jumpsuit with orange and yellow side stripes
(Even puffy fin things lining the sides)
Helmet is on, red goggles too
Sad I forgot my cape,
But what can I do?

With an Iraqi (he said he’s Turkish)
Strapped to my back
Pushed out of a plane
No time for a heart attack

Falling fast as the rain
Wind blasting my face
The straps choke my neck
Like a paraplegic brace

I need to remember to breathe
The view is so incredible
No time to think
Until air fills the chute full

Faris calls me “honey”
and asks if I’m all right
He fixes my straps
so they aren’t quite so tight

We spin in a circle
“I like that!” I shout
He hardly hears me
I’m not concerned I’ll fall out

“Honey, I don’t want you to throw up”
He explains
But maybe he’s the one who gets dizzy
My stomach is thrilled and I want to keep spinning

Floating ever so gently
Over a vast mountain valley
We descend from 13,000 feet
Until we find ourselves standing

110 mph is so much better than 40
I always loved it on the way up
Until I tasted it falling

April Murdock
9.15.06

Four Years Later I’m Still Testosterone-Deficient but I Don’t Got the Blues
(a.k.a. Patience)

Four years later some things haven’t changed
I’m still that wisely innocent chick who’s almost got it all—
Minus her soulful romantic

I still listen to sappy love songs
Singing loudly all the time
I know all the doo-wops
And I’ve memorized the lines

But I don’t worry I’m defective
I know I’m all right
Pretty amazing, actually—
Just like everyone else

I can be myself with anyone I meet
It’s liberating and free not to worry what they think

I’ve actually learned to talk
I’m more open now
Willing to take a risk
And to tell him he’s “WOW!”

Some say I even flirt, while I think I’m fun and friendly
Not playing a manipulative game where people are fake and get hurt

That’s as far as I’ve got—
Still nothing serious for me,
Which always shocks people who hear
My lips retain their virginity

I like to laugh and tell jokes
Though I’m not super funny
(I’ve had to pray for a sense of humor
And I work hard for my money)

So through all the years I’ve been growing a lot
Collecting many stories of my adventures and thoughts

Love might be slow,
But I’m not behind
It’s a good life I live
As I’m being refined

Yes, this wisely innocent chick
Is still testosterone-deficient
But do I have the blues?
No, I’m just more patient

April Murdock
9.15.06

Exhilaration

It’s not cold out, but my nose is dripping
It’s not hot either, but I’m sweaty
My eyes are streaming with tears, but I’m not sad
Sporting flip-flops and my bandana, I might look tough but not hardcore—
no spandex or helmet for me
Drivers must hate me—I think I’m reckless
But 40 mph downhill on two wheels is exhilaration enough to risk it
And the uphill climb is even more fun

April Murdock
8.24.06

Sparkly Tights

Sparkly Tights 

Two days before I entered the LDS Missionary Training Center in Provo, UT to be a full-time volunteer missionary in the Georgia Macon Mission for 18 months, I was running up the Grove Creek Trail in Pleasant Grove, UT. 

I like the way my sparkly running tights match the snow 

Both glitter and it makes me happy.

So does running 

Even on a dark, sub-zero morning 

When my breath is visible and 

My gloves are frozen where I’ve wiped my clear winter snot. 

I ascend the mountain trail, and pause 

To see the city lights below. 

Their sparkle matches my tights, the stars and the snow. 

I am alone on a steep mountain trail, 

But I don’t feel alone. 

I own this trail. 

It’s so early and cold, no one is crazy enough to be out. 

Except me. 

And I love it. 

Fly down the hill on wings of gravity. 

This is my time. 

Footprints immortalized in the snow 

Make me reflect on my path. 

Who came before me and 

What tracks do I leave? 

 April Murdock 12.13.04

Ask

I’d like an epiphany
Send me one now, please
Answer my questions
I’m down on my knees

April Murdock
7.2004

Another One About Feeling

I want to feel
Want to experience it all
Let it go, let it out
Break down my emotional wall

I don’t know how to reach it
Is it even there?
So in my head
Am I not feeling?

Music makes me feel
I feel for others
Do they feel my feeling for them?
Or am I a rock,
an island?

I think I feel
Think my feelings
Feel my thinkings

What’s what?!

April Murdock
7.6.04

Unfathomable

The fountain is deep.
It’s unfathomable, yet I’m barely even feeling it.
Perhaps that’s why it’s unfathomable—

unable to comprehend or reach.

I feel such intense sorrow, yet writing that doesn’t seem true because I’m not quite feeling it.
I know it’s there, but it’s like I’m

floating

on a very deep pond

and only dipping my toes,
not really experiencing the water.

I want to dive, to jump in, to open the flood gates and let it flow freely.

I’m not frustrated that it seems blocked—
more confused than anything, wondering why it can’t come.
Maybe it needs to build more to break the dam.

Most of the time, though, throughout the day I feel fine, and even wonderful,
but a blippet of a moment may come where I feel the water rippling,
reminding me that I have some swimming to do.

The water doesn’t scare me.
I want to bathe, to soak, to immerse,
But I can’t get in yet.
It’s not time.

April Murdock
6.28.04

Testosterone-Deficient Blues

One of my favorites and most-requested. Some day it will be set to music.

Oh man, oh man
Every day’s the same
Not a one to be seen
They don’t even know my name

These are the testosterone blues
(sing it, sistah)
of a wisely innocent chick
who’s almost got it all—
minus her soulful romantic

Listenin’ to sappy love songs,
wistful for the day
when my knight with big strong arms
holds my hand without delay

One just caught my eye who
loves music, to travel and run
True mushroom—you know, a “fun guy”
Sense of humor and charitable bar none

He’s kind and bright
and boy, is he cute
A perfect match, right?
Except that now I’m a mute!

Why do I get this way?
It’s such an irony
that when I have no interest
it’s easiest to be me

Am I defective?
Or are his eyes veiled?
Is this how I have to live?
Have I somehow failed?

I don’t pretend to have any answers.
Well, okay, I’ll pretend.
I could say, “boys are dumb”
And hold “I hate men weeks”
(but never hold men)

These are the testosterone blues
of a wisely innocent chick
who’s almost got it all—
minus her soulful romantic

Mom says I have to flirt—
bat my eyes,
lower my head
act sly and coy
while my cheeks blush red

But it just ain’t natural
Ya know what I mean?
Pretending to be some game-playing queen

Instead I’m tongue-tied
Scared out of my wits
Feeling queasy awkward
and stuttering like a ditz

Some day it will happen
My dreams will come true
I’ll talk to that hunk of mine
And he’ll get a clue

My love won’t be thwarted
It will blossom and grow
We’ll be open and share
till we can’t talk no mo’

When that special day comes
I’ll be having fun still making friends
Much patience I’ll have learned

and I’ll be wearing Depends.

April Murdock
8.13.02 / 11.18.03

Leaving

I feel the sadness welling up inside of me, slowly building and looming in my heart.
Heavy, deep, blue, I don’t know how else to describe it.
I want to feel the sting, endure the ache, to taste the salt.
Waiting for the geyser, still there is no release.
Why isn’t there an emotional button that says PUSH ME and I can just cry?

I’m living in a dream—
Excited for the morning, but not yet ready to face the sun.
Although I’m still here, I miss it already:
The people, though they surround me;
The places, though still I pass by them.
Regrets of friendships not cultivated, gratitude unexpressed,
Lost chances to build more memories and prolong moments that won’t come again.

But it needn’t end now, for with each ending comes a new beginning.
Pieces of my heart I leave behind, but they aren’t forgotten.
Nor is my heart flawed or incomplete with these holes,
But is has grown, expanded, and will be filled as I share more.
I’m filled with sadness, yet surrounded by love.
Grateful for the chance to lose and live, to feel and be filled,
Grateful for paradoxical feelings.

April Murdock
8.2003

True Love

Now this is love—
Security, warmth, comfort, rejuvenation
The utmost in charity,
It takes my time but returns so much more,
With no suggestion of disparity.
Like a toothbrush, it is only mine.
No need to share it, and I feel just fine.

Reliable when I’m sick.
Respite from my trials, escape from all my woes.
It envelops me, wraps its pure white arms around me,
Inspires me to climb higher to an island in the midst of chaos.

Take it at face value, exactly what it seems.
Doesn’t need to impress anyone or put on haughty airs.
Just relax my weary muscles and shelter all my dreams
While I kick off my shoes and drop my heavy cares.

I cry on its shoulder, bury my face in its tender arm.
Sometimes in anger I scream at its face
But undaunted, forgiving, it hears out my case.

Inviting, enticing, so hard to pull away
When the short moment of night ends and thus begins a new day.
Parting is grueling when I leave on a journey.
Anxious for our reunion, for my love I have been yearning.
Nothing has changed, no matter how long the separation
I come home to all that I’ve hoped for, dreamed of and wanted—
Ah, yes, my own, glorious bed!

To some this may be pathetic—
A shameless display of affection for an inanimate object,
Incapable of returning to me in eloquent rhetoric.
But I hold my case as one that will persist through time,
For even when I share it, my bed will be more sublime.

April Murdock
2.9.03

Knowing Christ

Will I know Christ when He comes?
Will I recognize His face—not because I have seen it, but because I see His light?
Will He call me friend, because I have endured to the end?
Who will I be in His sight?
Will I be stuck because my heart is numb?
Or will I be pure white from doing His right?
What will I regret or have left undone?
Will I be ashamed and feel to blame?
Or will Christ and I be one and the same?

April Murdock
9.1.02

my thoughts on thunder and rain

eccentric waltzing across the sky
prelude to the life-supporting rain
fat drops plunking, streaming, kamikaze
flash across the sky
illuminating for a brief moment, then

pause

BOOM

shake my bones, rattle my brain
oooh, another one!

awestruck and breathless at this beautiful reminder of God’s glory
spellbound, I could watch the performance for hours.

April Murdock
6.21.02

Ode to Clark (the Paper Man)

Good-bye, dear friend, who always stood tall even when others around you slumped. You never shirked responsibility. You always listened, never interrupting or speaking harsh words or bullets of sarcasm. You always greeted me with a cheery grin on your face, hand raised in friendship.
A true man for all seasons, you survived the apartment, “Oh, no, the toilet overflowed” water fight and trek in the snow to Frontier Pies.
Those were the days.
Pigtails in our hair, prom dresses with running tights and shoes, we could hardly have asked for a better date. You were willing, inviting, comfortable and safe. You stood for a lot, and while many could not see all of your amazing qualities, they knew you had character and a kind heart. Never mind that you were not quite in proportionyour creator admired you anyway.
The day came that you were rolled away, tucked up and forgotten. I missed you sorely until our joyous reunion. I didn’t want to be selfish, so I let my little sister share you with her senior English class for a creative assignment. Yet you were so underappreciated. Standing in their class, day after day after day, hardly a soul even looking at your friendly visage. Then you were torn down, crumpled to the floor and tossed in a can. Oh, the cruelty and abuse! The horror to imagine that anyone could be so heartless! Did they not know, did they not think that someone cared for you and was anxiously awaiting your safe return? You can’t be replaced. You were one-of-a-kind and the last of your breed. There can never be another Clark.

April Murdock
5.22.02

Healing?

You hurt me once.
Not just once, but a long time ago.
I didn’t understand how my heart was scarred,
But things in my life were not right.
I failed to make the connection between my problems and you.

I’m learning now,
and it’s painful
and it hurts.
Now I’m trying to let go.

I’m so angry
I can’t express it.
But part of me doesn’t want to.

I thought I had to protect you.
Mad was not okay.
I thought if I never felt mad,
I had let go.
Boy, was I wrong.

It was about control.
I could control my feelings by stuffing them—
Stuffing them with food.
But then the ugly tyrants Food and Appetite took hold of me—
Quite a paradox.

I hated myself.
I did not deserve love.
How could I love myself
When I ate so disgustingly?

And then I got worse.
I look back on where I once was,
Thinking I was so terrible.
Compared to now,
Back then looked better than my current cow.

I used to fight it vigorously, forcefully.
I was obsessed with controlling my food,
Yet still it controlled me.
Now I’m too tired to battle and numbly concede.

I can’t get satisfaction.
It’s never enough.
My stomach is not a bottomless pit,
But I think it’s not connected to my brain.
I’m stuck in a rut
With a huge butt.

Some days it’s hard to have hope.
I’ve been through this before,
And I don’t seem to be getting better.
I’m just trying to cope.

What do I have to look forward to?
I have many blessings;
I acknowledge that.
But they’re almost impossible to see
Through the thick fog of negativity.
The fog tries to smother me and
When I’m weak, leaves no room for felicity.

I feed off of negative thoughts—
Multiplying, swarming my mind like devil biting flies,
Whispering and snarling at me that they’re true.
They try to erase my memories of peace and hope.

They tell me I’m not worthy.
They tell me I’m bad,
I’m defective, unlovable,
And yes, it’s sad,
I’ll never be good enough.

Not long ago I felt, for the first time in my life,
Fully LOVED.
It was a gift from God,
And I didn’t know why it suddenly came.
It filled my heart and I felt my worth.

Yet it slowly waned
And I wondered what was wrong with me
That I couldn’t keep it.
Oh, how my heart ached!
To finally have such a beautiful gift
And for it to quietly slip through the holes in my heart.

My life’s an emotional roller coaster,
From moment to moment fluctuating.
I hit the valleys and rise to the peaks.
I want to puke from the ride.

It’s more than confusing and frustrating.
What do I believe?
Each moment seems to be the new truth,
Erasing what I felt just moments before.
It seems that all I can trust is my logic,
Yet that seems to be failing too.

Like a tulip bulb that lasts through winter,
My hope lies dormant that all the negative thoughts are false
(I avoid claiming them as mine)
And some day I won’t hear them anymore
Or at least not listen to them.

Inside of me there is a beautiful, radiant woman
full of love and joy,
Shining and doing good.
But her treasure remains buried
Deep under the dirt that has been heaped upon her.

Is she lovable with the dirt still there?
Of course, she’s acceptable without the dirt,
But while she’s being excavated and polished,
Is she still worth as much?

I suppose value lies in the esteem of the beholder
Does God still value a recently dug-up treasure
As much as He does an already shining jewel?

The world looks at the dirty treasure as flea-market material.
But it’s my heart, and I guard it carefully.

How does God see me?
He tells me that He loves me
And that He’s pleased with my efforts.
Can it be true?
I have so FAR to go,
So much dirt to dig through,
That I can’t accept that I’m acceptable.
Not until the dirt is gone.

Sometimes instead of digging through the dirt,
I would rather smooth it over and plant a garden.
But if the flowers can’t grow because they’re planted in poor soil,
then I need to change it.
And as much as I wish I had a new garden,
Changing plots is not allowed in this field.

So my task seems to be learning to garden in rocky territory.
The tree that grew in the rocky soil was the strongest.

April Murdock
5.18.02

ew

icky icky
yuck puke
oh, sick
gross

April Murdock
12.2001

Judgmental

You say I’m judgmental;
I say I care.

You say I’m selfish;
I say I share.

You say it’s black;
I say it’s white.

You tell me my faults;
I ask for what’s right.

In spite of your method and manner critiquing,
I appreciate your concern for my well-being.

April Murdock
12.14.01

My Eternal Spirit Weeps

My eternal spirit weeps to be trapped in this weak mortal body.
Constantly they battle, never to be reconciled.
It tears my soul and pains my heart to be at odds with myself.
My spirit’s desire is to conquer sin and carnality, but something blocks it.
I must remove the block
Aaagh, but it’s big
And heavy
And very slow dying.

I can’t do it alone.
The Savior will help me,
If I let Him
How?
I try to open my heart to His healing, but my body fights back and says
It can’t.
Still, my soul yearns to be freed from these chains,
To rise from this dreadful hell to heaven’s refuge where it is destined to rest.

April Murdock
12.14.01

emotional cliff

on stable ground
atop a threatening cliff,
my toes grip the edge in fear
as i compel myself
to take the deep plunge

jump, i say
jump, jump, jump
just do it—
it’s that simple.
JUMP

but a jump is irreversible
and gravity is not my friend
once i step off, i will
fall,
fall,
for what seems an eternity
until i hit the water

on an impulse
(i don’t know from where it came)
i finally jump
and as i fall,
i’m sure i am going to die
i just left my stomach up there and
i’m still falling and
i
can’t
stop

i slap the water and it stings
i hurriedly cover my wedgie
The water closes over me and thoughts of suffocation enter my mind as i fight my way upward to air

When i surface,
i gasp and think
what a RUSH
I’ll go higher next time.

April Murdock
3.29.01

My Thoughts on Shopping

So many beautiful clothes
Can’t buy them all—too expensive
Can’t make them all.

What to do?

Saver’s is cheap.
So is D.I.
Can’t wear them all.

Anxiety
Stress
Express yourself
Through your clothes

Could go naked!
No
That’s ugly
and cold
like a nightmare

April Murdock
About 1998?

Curse of the World

Curse of the world
Curse the day
Curse my woes
Curse them away
I never wanted this burden I bear
This burden, this burden, oh, I swear
It’s heavy, pressing, swelling, biting
Kicking, screaming, I’ll keep on fighting
To the end!
Omega!
When will it end?

I’m growing, I know,
but in all the wrong places.
My buttocks ballooning,
Mushrooming my face is.
Where to find my oasis?
Not in the kitchen,
For that’s where all my troubles began
The curse of my world.

April Murdock
About 1997