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 Apr 2024
Bekah Halle
Life is in the here and now, the present,
Death is in the past and future; regret and needs to be met.
But talking about dying, pain, angst, the last breath brings life;
Mysterious peace settles, an absence of strife.

We may think we’re alone in death,
But we all go through it, crossing that precipice.
Something we all have in common,
Not just for one but for everyone.

Sharing stories becomes living memories,
Remembered in death, then as homilies.
Celebrating life: a life well lived,
Then, death is seen as not taken but given.
 Apr 2024
Bekah Halle
The grief is deep,
It wells and swells
Deep inside.
I now want to draw near
The deep, and
Peer down inside,
See the waves crashing,
See the pretty foam
From the chaos,
Deep inside.
When I come close,
It’s refreshing,
Calming,
Mesmerising.
Lulling me into a deep sleep.
Transforming me from the inside out,
So that Your new creation
May come forth.
Be present.
Even in the cold,
Even in the chaos,
Even in the unknown, and
Even in the loneliness.
Even. Deeper.
 Apr 2024
Bekah Halle
Grey skies loom,
Threatening oncoming turmoil.
Or, a promise of loosening
Fixed ways?
 Apr 2024
Bekah Halle
She passes faster than we can grasp,
We try to capture her, firm in our clasp.
But she runs right through us,
Savouring, she becomes our mistress,
She rules indiscriminately,
Sometimes, not always, distressingly.

Oh,
Mistress Time, you're full of beauty,
Admired, best in the present, free and fruity.
If we don't, we'll mourn,
And if only despaired, she will scorn.
But now, she comes alive,
Invigorated, we thrive.

Yes,
Face to face, she tells tales,
Of the dreams, places we’ll sail.
Future fantasies, we indulge,
Temptress Time, let us divulge,
Our secrets,
Worn down, we slip; more regrets.
A line inspired this poem in the series "Wheel of Time," It is surprising where promptings arise. Imagine if all our poems had a backstory shared?!
 Apr 2024
Bekah Halle
Words come and go,
So quickly,
I can’t catch them all!
They dance across my mind,
And then, when I want to recall them,
****, they’re gone!
 Mar 2024
Bekah Halle
Purify us!
So that we burn,
with your glory.
We are fragile selves,
Our egos are weak, so
That we crave our glory.
We hunger, we thirst
For the things of this world,
Purify us!
Burn the distorted lenses,
So that we can truly see,
You!
Fragile Self
 Mar 2024
Bekah Halle
Grief is like a sledgehammer,
Smashing through life indiscriminately.
The widow tries to hide her wound,
Like a mother cuddling her cub;
Instinctively, protectingly and lovingly.
But their darkness swallows the light,
And they fall deeper into the abyss.
Swollen eyes can only open with tenderness,
And a touch from a heavenly hand extended.
Warmth infuses the dead flesh,
Loneliness liquifies with love.
Intimacy is a potent life force,
That which cannot be known by the proud,
But only the downtrodden and deeply slumped,
Lacking life, tossed aside because their used date’s up,
And the technology has been upgraded to 17.20,
Though new life comes, silence is comforted by a tender embrace,
Life, re-formed, emerges,
And takes on another shape; begging to be discovered.
Silence can then be comforting and enlarging, only if you dare to sit and listen.
 Mar 2024
Bekah Halle
Waiting is complex.
On the surface, it looks like nothing;
A waste.
It’s easy to get distracted,
Thinking of the things one should do.
But when you start to move, and
The routes lead to dead ends...
Wasted.
Cold.
Desolate.
Lonely.
But, then light pierces through,
And there is movement.
 Mar 2024
Bekah Halle
Where shall we go?
To get our fix?
To get our relief?
Peace?!

To the fiz?
To the *****,
To the fax,
Pals,

Or to our faith?

Wherever 'it' is, is our saviour.
The gods of this world,
Masquerading as possible solutions,

But leaving everlasting aches,
Not true peace --
Leaving us, searching, in
Purgatory?
 Feb 2024
Bekah Halle
Connectivity drives us, compels us forward,
Technology, used unwisely, is the dark king of this age; that proclaims hope in wires connected underground and
Invisible signals shoot through the air, trying to share signs that we care, but
Ultimately, it severs us from reality and each other over there: digital Babylon.
Heads down, thoughts inward,
We don’t see the lost on the street,
We don’t see the lady lying in pain, covered in shame, trying to re-cover herself and start over again,
But, effortlessly, we switch off from that kid searching our eyes that he matters,
When we keep looking at ourselves, our next selfie: selfie addicts!
If we don’t post our newest vain attempt to connect, we turn to other drugs to numb the pain,
That our brain is craving to solve;
The receptivity issue.
So we need to switch off to switch on again to our indelible source of
Connection with real life within and with others out,
Who says spirituality doesn’t matter: it’s not for this day and age,
It divides and fuels us with rage,
But it does!
It is,
And it is to come.
Connection to the forever dimension, the reason for the ascension to
Reconnect us back to the truth again.
I am going on a digital fast for the next 40 days in the lead up to Easter, so I reflected on the poems I have written and saw this one. I had forgotten about it, and in re-reading it I feel the charge of emotion as if I was there in that moment again. Wow. May new revelation arise over the next 40 days.
 Feb 2024
Bekah Halle
How sad? that my initial thought,
When I saw a man in church,
Lead youth out, was: how creepy!
I’m sure he is lovely, but even his looks
Made me lurch,
within myself, and yell: it’s not safe!
This distorted world robs innocence,
Smashes precious platforms and
Hijacks joy.
How do we restore this;
Elevate hope again?
All I have are questions, no answers.
How can we better love ourselves and one another?
How can we extend compassion?
It starts with ourselves!
This happened this morning and it prompted me to write this to make sense.
 Feb 2024
Bekah Halle
I come home a foreigner.
The sun is warm and welcoming,
But the environment has changed.
Curiosity is beconning,
But with gentle eyes.

I come home changed.
Last time I was more timid,
This time, a little stronger.
Last time I thought my weaknesses were insipid,
This time, they are part of me.

I come home curious,
As to what it might be, I ponder.
The family dynamics.
The opportunities that I may squander,
In fear of becoming my truest self.

I come home braver.
Even though on the outside I may be frailer,
Even though.
I might not be, but opportunities I can tailor,
So, it is with courage I move forward.
 Feb 2024
Bekah Halle
Have a goal, they taught,
So, I set out but faced roadblocks.
Keep trying, they said,
So, I didn’t give in and embraced the setbacks.
Sometimes, stalling, enduring the detour,
Brought me more life than just paychecks.
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