A baby is born.
Hope handed over,
wrapped in blankets
and swaddled in light.
The baby grows
in warmth and love.
The years go by in flashes
of increasing darkness.
Seventeen years later,
the same child
crushes her knees
to her chest, warding
off the panic
in her blood
and the depression
in her head.
Abused. Assaulted.
Life crashed down.
Disease. Death.
Too much.
The parents stare
in shock.
Where is the hope?
The light?
The joy?
Their arms crave
to hold the bundle of hope
swaddled in light.
Their eyes yearn
to hear the warmth
of laughter bubbling
from lips too silent.
Shadow shrouds
the child,
with her knees crushed
to her chest.
Battle scars much too deep
and past much too dark.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
I wail and scream and cry
my fists pounding against His chest
in rhythm with the nails in His hands
“Why. Why. I don’t understand”
My heart is breaking
My skin is sweating
My body is shaking
My fists are pounding
*I am broken
I am angry*
I feel Him start to move.
I see His hand reach out
and I prepare to be slapped.
But He moves some hair
that had fallen in my eyes
behind my ear.
He wraps His arms tightly around me.
Never letting go.
My pounding slows.
My shaking fades.
And I look up in shock
as I feel a teardrop on my nose.
I see water pouring from His eyes
as He weeps over my pain.
My heart begins to mend.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Malignant cells residing in her chest.
It’s bad, they say, as if we can’t tell,
In the trash is where her hair dwells.
Her body is scarred, as she undressed,
Her naked soul exposed because of her breast.
Home is not home as we are residing in hell,
For who would want to say to their mother, farewell.
Some say that the victim is the only one stressed,
But all of us, her family, are depressed.
Our “home” is filled with gloom
For God is silent on His throne.
The hope in our souls is known;
She will be made new, as in the womb.
We can feel it in our bones;
We know we are not alone.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
I remember a time some summers back.
Brother and sister climb into the bath tub,
bathing suits on,
ready to relax and have fun.
Brother wasn't always so nice to sister.
He yelled things, terrible things.
He hit hard, awfully hard.
He said he didn't know his own strength.
Sister doesn't know if he meant physically or emotionally.
But that day was good.
It was a day of sun and water.
Brother wanted to see how long sister could hold her breath.
So she went down.
Underwater where the sounds echo and distort.
She waited.
Sister came up a half minute later.
Suddenly, brother pushed sister back under.
Sister had barely gotten a breath in.
Sister waited a few seconds.
Then it got hard to breathe.
Sister pushed her brother.
Started pushing
against his arm.
Sister cried:
"Brother,
let
me
breathe."
Brother released sister's head.
Brother laughed at my tears.
Brother scoffed my fear.
Brother never said "sorry".
Today, years later, the story is the same.
Only now,
the water is depression
and the brother
is
my
family.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Have you ever felt the kind of numbness that sinks into your bones?
The kind that leaves you hollow and empty inside.
All except for that lingering lead ball
residing in the pit of my stomach.
No matter what I do,
the medication I take,
the therapists I see,
the prayers I pray,
that lead ball is still there.
And when things escalate,
my soul is despondent within me
and eventually,
the numbness takes over.
"Seek God and all will be well"
I call BS.
Not all will be well.
In fact, we are guaranteed a difficult life.
I just want a break sometimes.
A breath of fresh air, you know?
It's hard to get that
when there's a lead ball
in your stomach
and numbness
in your bones.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
a deep dark abyss
of a heart rises
the pain she can’t resist
unknowingly consuming her
it starts as nothing
a night crying disregarded
thought as hormones
not actual tears from her heart
the silence follows
people pushing feelings aside
not knowing the silly words hurt
not knowing how she cries at night
she’s regarded as talentless
thought as a person without
attention-worthy opinions
one who’s feelings don’t matter
she tempts thoughts of harm
picking up a blade, but setting it back
knowing she couldn’t stand the pain afterwards
just wanting people to see how she hurts
just wanting people to care for her
just wanting to be appreciated
just wanting people to pray for her
but no one knows
so the pain just sits in her heart
even with a smile on her face
even when she laughs
inside, she cries
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
I feel like a puppet.
I wish God would make up His mind.
One minute death,
the next life.
I feel like I’m in a stormy sea.
Being tossed to and fro amongst the waves,
battered and beaten down.
Please God,
release me from this.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
The Artist painted
the skies and molded
the stars and galaxies
to His liking.
He sculpted the
mountains out of
clay and dirt.
He wrote music
and taught the birds
to sing His chords.
He carved a place
for the ocean and
poured His love
in its depths.
He made man.
He knit veins to bones.
Skin to ligaments and muscle.
Built a cage to protect our heart
as He knew that it
is so easily broken.
He connected nerves to the brain
and in that brain,
He made so complex of a
system that science is still
baffled by the ***** that
holds the information
of our personality.
Our emotions.
Our passions.
Then.
He did something crazy.
Insane.
He gave man free will.
To love or to hate.
To turn to or against.
And man turned against.
Hid from his Creator.
The One who knows his
inmost being.
And beauty was distorted.
All that is beautiful
is only an
echo.
An echo of the home
that we once knew.
An echo of the original
Artist, the one who
taught us to create.
*All I can do now
is to try and capture
Your beauty
to show to others.*
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
When we see dark clouds,
we think the storm is beautiful.
We sit in our homes
and listen to the rain
soaking into the ground.
We go outside
and dance.
Sometimes there is destruction.
Sometimes there is chaos.
But there is still rain
And with rain,
the flowers and trees
are able to grow.
*They become stronger.
Resilient.
Beautiful.*
Are not humans the same?
We see rainstorms and we see beauty.
Why is it that when we see
the storms of life,
we see only
destruction.
Only pain.
*Even though the storm is painful,
we grow like nature.
Strong.
Resilient.
Beautiful.*
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
I am safe.
I am protected.
You built a hedge around me
that no one can break through.
Not without Your permission.
You are keeping me safe.
You are protecting me.
The future is bright with hope.
The darkness is in my past,
and even when painful times come,
You will still be here.
You will still keep me safe.
You will still protect me.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC