It's a funny thing distance.
We put it between ourselves and dangerous situations.
But what about when we put it between people we love?
Its unfortunate and it hurts.
well why though? were they dangerous to us, and our sense of self or we were dangerous to them.
It's never a easy answer.
But people put distance between themselves and their dead relatives, isn't it the same thing. That's distance to right?
Yes, but for us they're very much alive and we can close that distance if we wanted to.
Then why don't we?! END OUR SUFFERING!
we long for them... and all her wonders.
Were it so easy, we would not be here in this winter, feeling just how cold it can get, wanting to close this distance.
I dont care! I'm tierd of feeling this pain go straight through us down to our very bones.
What do you want us to do? Just reach out and say "Hi I'm back"
Do you know how tramatic that is! Do you know how much we've changed because of this distance, they wouldn't even recognize us we are akin to a new person!
No, we will endure this heart breaking, gut wrenching distance.
This distance is horrible.
Just think about the ones that can't endure it.
are they weak. Are we stronger then them? Why couldn't they endure the distance?
No, they're not weak, they're just lost, an have yet to find themselves.
Do you think they're at peace with the distance between us?
Maybe... I don't know. I hope so.

Each fall left its resounding mark,
etched upon her courageous soul.
A thousand times she fell,
yet, rose with gumption whole.

Rock bottom understands her well,
like an old companion who called;
But she became resilient
when internal darkness sprawled.

©️Lizzie Bevis

My aching limbs and heavy sighs,  
as morning light hurts my weary eyes
and every movement feels like a chore,  
as time slows from the weight of it all.

Although every step may feel like lead,  
and thoughts of rest fill my weary head;
I'm determined to try anyway,
with a will to rise and seize the day.

©️Lizzie Bevis

it gets better, someone said
after a while, it gets better
impatience killed too many
and often life is too much to bear

i am still holding out for better days
at night, i kneel and throw out prayers
like dying prophet, i call out to God
will it mean anything, my dripping blood?

my fallen teeth, the uncountable tears
sweat and times i wanted to give in
my heart, a thousand have pierced
i still swing my blade like a fedayeen

if there is something big awaiting me
if there is light at the end of the tunnel
i am willing to fight for it
i will never throw the towel

for once, i will do what's right
for once, i won't die without a fight.

The slithering snake slid swift and slow
Past my ear and into my mind,
Shrank to a seed as sharp as crystal snow
And grew to close my ears, and eyes blind .

Woe became to me a pleasant friend
And smeared shame upon my body,
After a bath of stone and cement
And common eyes beguiled at my misery.

I walked on salt, after the sores from broken glass
Knowing the gift of agony is matched in cursing ecstasy,
Why worry in ceremony about superseding onus?
Why smile in agony about the coming bliss here indefinitely?

Light came and bathed me with honey
And flowered beneath my feet a fine feather,
Light watered my eyes to like an open curtain
And the common eye repulsed my treasure.

Runners Run.
One stride at a time
One push at a time
One lap at a time

And when the climb is steep
when you feel like
you're losing ground,
then every stride,
every push, every lap
that leaves you in the race
takes you to your prize

And every time you stumble
only to regain your feet
that is a victory that is worthy
of your team captain
our captain, Jesus.

Boxers Fight.
One step at a time
One blow at a time
One round at a time

And when life throws
all it has at you,
all at one time,
then every step
every blow, every round
that leaves you in the fight
takes you to your prize

And every time you hit the canvas
only to beat the count
that is a victory that is worthy
of your champion,
our champion, Jesus.

And we will not be disqualified
from the prize.

Maiden in the ashes
Robed in silk
Robbed of milk
No mark on your tender skin
No sign of turmoil within
The coal does not yet scorch your soul
...
You walk your delicate path
Bearing the sightly, brightly beaten cut bloom of spring
Luscious petals not yet knowing
They will drop from the stem
No seeds to plant, and not her fault
the only water here tainted with salt
And the ground here is hard, turned up in its roots
And the soft garden bed tamped down by boots
Do you know the path you tread does not want you?
Do you not yet feel the cut of the stone or burning of the coal to your sole?
Or does this black earth need your bloodstained steps as much as you need to bleed them
Is it possible for one woman's blood to nourish this dead soil back to life?
And one woman's love to seed them

To sit here and scale our memories
looking for worth in wondering
searching for pieces in the past
I left all my paints and colorful hues
and moved forward with potfuls of rain thinking that to love is constant
and to lose is momentary pain
but all these versions of lives lived
all the people we said we were
and all the things we hope to become
stir and boil in this water
and winter tells us to stay inside
but this heart keeps racing
aching to feel the sun and the snow
to tear apart the days
and take these fractures
as testimonies of all that we braved