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“it’s part of being a creative.”
The highs and lows.
The brightness of the world
And the taste
Of it all.
The thoughts recede
As my hand passes through
The barrier to darkness,
Never fully in one,
unbalanced.
Speedbumps on my skin,
Worries scrambling up a hill,
Encased in the backyard
Of who I was.
The nostalgia hit my heart,
Pleated its lips,
And begged me to stay.
I watched as the returned
Insecurity changed the color
Of the sky—
A dilapidated yellow,
A buzzing of anxiety,
A thought spiral instigated
by the Enemy.
Even as I feel tangible things,
Connection beyond imagined,
The reality of a life I do not deserve
Fades away, touching the horizon, only
A rosy haze of broken seashells,
Thoughts and blessings becoming one.
Deep reds and shadowed burgundies,
Faces of daises and laughs of green,
The colors coincide as the sky expands,
And I only feel my Father’s hand on me.
the barrier between me and my Father thins at the beach.
Pushed in close under a shoulder,
Knobby knees pressed together,
Four intentionally designed souls
Enveloped by a warm blanket,
Blocking the ocean winds—
Uneven sand under tired feet,
Simple words and hushed voices,
All amounting to prayer and praise
For the center of our circle—
Our eternal Saviour.
Psalm 19
Waiting in the afterburn of a photo,
The summer sun seared into my eyes,
Feeling the blurry space of filled time.

Long-forgotten jokes tight in my chest,
A constant smile developing worry lines—
I watched the goldenhour subside.

Where would the memories go,
If I did not grab hold of them?

A soft pink veil filtered the internal upset,
A clock ratcheting in my headspace--
Limbs lengthened, faces matured,
And I was left wondering at what point
I started living in fear
Of watching the time go, adrift without
The guide of the lighthouse of childhood.
Father, You say I will find rest
If I am burdened and weary—
But what if my burdens
Are imagined?
I am surrounded by Your grace,
Held tight by glowing circumstances,
Yet I search for the strands
Of doubt, of anxiety, and
Torment myself with the thought
That if I rest, I will fail You.
Sia Harms Jul 16
My back against a cold wall,
Thoughts running circles,
Finding the cocoon
Of golden, warm yellows,
A slowing of time
Within a hazy picture—
Breathing out in Your arms,
Eternally enveloped,
Watching the world
Waste away,
As I seek Your comfort.
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