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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

Hey.
I'm glad you came here.
Thank you for remembering this.
Thank you for remembering to look at this.
I know it hurts.
God.
I know.

You're scared out of your mind that this is going to be your entire life.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
Full of depression and anxiety.
Full of storms and trials that leave you breathless on the ground, shaking from the panic that courses through your blood.
You think that if you just die now, you'll be in heaven.
Where it is so much better.
Where there is no pain.
No depression.
No anxiety.
No fear.


But, you have your life to live right now.
And it won't be an awful life.
How do I know?

Because beauty is in everything and it is just waiting to fully bloom.

You want to know the beauty that was in today?
Today, I had an amazing, life-giving conversation.
My fears and thoughts were validated.
I was told I wasn't alone.
I geeked out with him over film.
And I was given the biggest compliment.
I was told that my mind intrigued him.
We shared about our own experiences with depression.
We talked about God and how sometimes there just aren't answers.
It was amazing and it was just what I needed.
You won't have that if you make your thoughts a reality.

I want you to remember everything and everyone you love.
On earth.
In this life.
I want you to remember why you need to stay alive.

Remember your family.
Remember your dad who is going through so much pain.
Remember your mom who is fighting to stay with you.
Remember your brother who loves you, even though it does not feel like it.
Remember your cousin who will do anything for you.
Remember that they will do everything in their power to help you.

Remember your friends.
Remember your best friend who won't know what to do without you.
Remember your teachers who pray and talk with you.
Remember how they are fighting with you and for you.

Remember your favorite things.
Remember driving in your car at night with your music blasting.
Remember reading a good book with the warmth of the fireplace.
Remember the rush of taking a risk, whether physical or emotional.

Remember tea and peaches and blankets and books.
Remember conversations and movies and passion and love.
Remember oceans and mountains and flowers and stars.

Remember all the little things.
Remember how life can be so surprising.

So get your headphones,
blast your music,
drown out those voices,
and when you're ready,
go to sleep.
I promise that it won't be so bleak in the morning.

Imagine pitch black.
Can't even see your hand in front of your face.
The ground feels unsteady.
Like it's about to collapse from underneath you.

Imagine a dark wilderness.
Stretching for miles with no way out.
The shifting sands changing the landscape.
Like the entire world is shaking.

You're trying to climb your way out of the pitch black.
You're trying to find the path out of the wilderness.
You're trying to get a breath of air in the suffocating night.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to look up at the sky.
Though there is no sun,
the moon and stars still shine.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to look at the ground.
Though there is dirt and rubble,
the diamonds and gems are waiting to be gathered.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to feel the coolness of the water.
Though it is soaking your bones,
it is washing away the grime on your skin.

Slow your breath.
Listen to the night.
The breeze weaving through the leaves.
The water tapping the ground.
The horizon calling your name to things unseen.
To things undone.

Nature is crying out to us.
The staggerers through the night.
The searchers of love.
The chasers of light.

When it feels like the darkest night has come,
and you're on your face in the sand,
don't forget to roll over.
And look at the stars.

What is depression?
Depression is a monster. It claws at you and tears you to bits. It takes away anything pleasant you have in your life and leaves you with a constant feeling of despair. And eventually, when it has taken all that you are and you are nothing, it still rips you apart. It’s a monster, depression is. And the worst part, is even though it is ripping you to smitherines, you can’t live without it. It becomes your home and you become so used to the feeling of slowly dying. Depression is a teacher. It teaches you how to roll a curtain over the fatal wounds. It teaches you how to plaster a smile on your face while despondency blankets every corner of your body and mind. It beats you into obedience until your cowering in the corner and have no other option but to let it take over. A cruel teacher, depression is. It never stops its lectures and even though you beg to leave the classroom, it locks the doors and never lets you go.
I have become free of depression, its tyranny over. But now I hear it knocking on the door, its raps becoming harder and harder and more constant never leaving my head with its eagerness to re-enter my mind. I long to never hear those knocks again. But even though I am free, it always continues to try and tear the door to pieces and force itself back into me. But I am strong. And even when I am weak, I am not alone. And depression is not strong enough to overcome two.

The puzzle that is the world
is missing a piece.
A piece, that when included,
would change everything.
But the piece that is sitting
on the sidelines, watching,
waiting.
It doesn’t fit.
It looks around and sees
the loneliness that comes
from being itself.
A bit too much of this,
too little of that.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
Even though it is the last piece
and it should fit,
it wasn’t made to fit in.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
The divine puzzle is where
it calls home.
But it can’t get home.
Home is a place where
it is not allowed.
Not yet.
The piece has to leave it’s mark
on the lost puzzle.  
It’s a lonely road
with an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
Striving to get home.
Striving to just be heard
in a world full of unneeded noise.
The piece sees it’s destiny.
It has a passionate, relentless dream inside
it’s entire being.
It knows what it’s called for
and what it longs to do.
But the restrictions of it’s life
and the road that it is on
says 
“Not yet”.
“Not now”.
“Just wait”.
“My timing
is right”.
The piece expects the
world to shift under
it’s footsteps.
But the power of the divine,
it doesn’t show up.
Not in the way
the piece expected.
A lonely road this is.
With an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.