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Bekah Halle Mar 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Mar 2024
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
Bekah Halle Mar 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Mar 2024
I
Try,
Over and over
Again.
I
Try,
Over and over
And over
Again.
I
Try.
I will
Not
Stop.
Bekah Halle Mar 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Feb 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Feb 2024
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.
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