Desolate.
Dry, like an arid desert;
Limited life contact,
Hopeless.

Crying was a mirage,
Only others seemed to hold the key;
That could unlock,
The healing springs from within.

But drip by drip,
Inner acceptance they bring;
More freedom within,
Who I am is the best place to begin.

My tears are the permission,
To grieve this long journey;
From before my birth,
The pain of a broken world that you’ve allowed me to live in.

Be here,
With these tears.
Don’t leap ahead,
And miss the healing in these cool springs.

When the tears fall,
They release life;
Permission to be,
Freedom to embrace.

New life,
But it first took courage,
To shed that first tear;
You faced the fear,
That held you captive,
But now you are free to fly.

On the wings of a new horizon;
To walk on dewy grass,
With the sun rising, new promises.
Try again, learn and grow stronger,
In your way and time.

It was the frogs’ croak
That greeted me as I walked this morn,
Oh nature, how lovely is your cloak
All varieties with it are adorned.

"What's your name?"
Rebekah Halle ***
"D.O.B?"
13 November 1XXX
"What are you here for today?:
Eye surgery
'Okay, you're going to feel a freeze go through your veins
and then start to feel very sleepy..."
.
I wake to....
Beep,
Beep, beep
Buzz the machines
Whee, whoosh, voodoo
Whirl goes the blood pressure
knock knock on the door
The nurses peer into check.
Silence, for a second,
Beep,
Beep, beep
.
And then…
Knock, knock, knock
"Your eyes are looking great,
I'll come back in the morning,"
Beep
Beep, Beep, Beep
I sleep...
.
And then…
Knock, knock, knock
“Do you want your dinner now?!”
Inquires the hospitality staff.
Darkness strangles light
Again nurses wheel in their trollies…
Volumous voices viscerate silence
All In
the hospital room.

My body holds tight,
Like a clenched fist.
Unbreakable, it seems,
Solid footing admist?
But inflexible and stuck; fixed.
Fluidity and freedom it craves,
Screaming: "Release me!"
Like a teenage dancer, out at an all-night rave.
So I shake in an attempt to break,
The perception of danger,
And look to the horizon,
For a time without anger.
I guess I can laugh?!
That I’ve spent so much time,
In the void,
Stuck,
****!
But at least I’ve got rhyme.
To express these feelings,
And give my voice value,
To free the new me,
And to live life afresh and see.
Truly see!

poetry has become my drug.
when did this happen?
what was once a source of healing,
now causes scorn.
three times of torture;
I write, re-rite and write again
but like an addiction,
it soon loses its thorn.
did anyone read it?
I check, re-check, triple-check.
do they like it?
will it 'trend'?
what was once my life source
I now mourn.

You are not known, but
You are welcome,
Free breath provokes hope,
The future will come,
Your timing is perfect.

Can I wash my thoughts clean?
Can I  turn them inside out?
Can I transform my thoughts to glean?
Can they be renewed? I pout.

Is that Your work Holy Spirit?
Washing my thoughts? Or am I too mean?
Try other ways, primp and preen?
Am I doomed until I’ve made them seen?

I feel like a child throwing a tantrum,
But an adult, I want to be.
I want to grow like an oak in the garden,
that others come to see. 

Will it always be a huff and puff?
Hard work all the way?
Or will there be something I use my gruff,
And transform it into play?

Even now as I put pen to paper,
free my thoughts out to breathe,
The intensity turns into a caper,
And I allow myself a reprieve.

Enjoy this season of transformation,
It will always be your bread.
I am growing in emancipation,
And it will be this way till I’m dead.

But even then, I gain new life,
With You free from the grave.
For death, with you, has no strife,
And believing that makes me brave.

So, I will lift my head again,
And once again, I will breathe in,
I will let my eyes search along the plain,
And go, a smile beaming from within.

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.

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

Face to face, she tells tales,
Of the dreams; places we’ll sail.
Future fantasy, we indulge,
Temptress Time, let us divulge,
Our secrets,
Worn down, we slip; more regrets.

Peace, not position.
Trust, not tyranny.
Freedom, not fear.

You don’t scare me any more!
You're just hot air,
Good only for (hot air) balloons.
So, rather than running away and hiding,
I will not jump into your basket, and
Ride your highs.
I will see the mountains, and
Leave you behind.
Because that is what your furry does,
Drive people away so they do not see,
You on the inside.
A small, scared little child.
So no more!
Come outside.
Come ride up high
Away from that anger you
Try so hard to hide.
From this new vantage point,
See, open your eyes, and
Let heaven and earth collide.