Tag: poem

The Weight of Grief

Poetry

The Weight of Grief

By

My grief has settled deep into my body,
a 71kg weight between my sternum and my spine
filling up my chest cavity, making its home.
Who knew absence could be so heavy?

The weight of this grief-love grounds me;
there is strength in it somehow,
a kind of balance that I didn’t have before. 
I have welcomed and embraced it–
this connection with the one I still love
and who is, unrelentingly, still dead.

I am not broken or fragile, but I am tired.
I carry on living and my Hope doesn’t fail,
but the unremitting demand on my resilience
brings a soul-deep weariness that never fades.

All the losses and “nevers” I feel now,
and the ones I realize afresh with each passing day,
I will carry in my body until it is my time to die.
This is my pain and my privilege.

September 25, 2021

Photo by Matthias Heil on Unsplash

I will wear my grief like a badge of honor

Poetry

I will wear my grief like a badge of honor

By

I will wear my grief like a badge of honor
   honored to love him
   honored to be loved by him 
“For what is grief,” they say,
   “if not love persevering?” 

I will wear my grief loudly, 
   proudly.
I will show the world it is not an evil 
   to be feared or avoided, 
But a journey to be embraced 
   in all its agonizing complexity. 

I will try my frail best 
   to hold hope and grief in both hands 
   as they balance and blend together. 

I will mourn relentlessly. 
I will live and love resolutely. 
And I will remember him always 
   as my grief-love shifts and flows
      down through the years 
         until we meet again

Mina S, July 29, 2021

Photo by Claire Kelly on Unsplash

Manna Enough – Stop Living like an Orphan

Poetry

Manna Enough – Stop Living like an Orphan

By

Adopted, precious daughter
but an orphan in my mind;
stowing up my manna thinking,

“He won’t provide, he lied.”

My fear breeds maggots
like the manna that I hoard
scrapings for tomorrow
turn to rotting, stinking mold

My heart a barren wilderness,
a mirage of abandonment, stomach empty;
but it’s raining down bread!

There’s manna provided in plenty

If I open my eyes and look
He knows exactly what I need,
He will always be here

wanting the very best for me.

To the brink of starvation,
in the strongest of my cravings,
I’ll trust his Daddy heart

and remember I need His saving.

It’s enough for today, this moment
Manna enough to get me through
My Daily Bread, fresh each morning

ever faithful, ever true

Orphan, open your heart!
The deed’s been signed and sealed.
He’s never letting go,

just let your soul be healed.

Inspired by a sermon by Pastor Tim Dunham on Exodus 16:1-16 and John 6:26-35 as well as the meditation in this video by Caroline Williams.

 

The Words I Speak to Myself

Poetry

The Words I Speak to Myself

By

“Look at you,
you filthy scum.
Disgusting.
Shameful.
Worthless.
“Who do you think you are?
Do you really think you’re worth listening to?
You’re
Untalented.
Uninteresting.
Ugly.
“Why don’t you try harder?
You’re obviously lazy,
or totally incapable
or just a complete failure.”
The words I speak to myself
are words I’d never say to anyone else
The grace and love I pour out for others
There’s not a drop left for myself.
The words I speak to myself
shape who I am
I listen to myself
and believe
But the words I speak to myself
should be like the words I speak to others
dripping with grace
soaked in understanding
drenched in love
I should say,
“Look at you,
you delightful human.
Captivating.
Pure.
Worth more than gold.
“You are a precious daughter.
worthy of the greatest attention,
Talented.
Fascinating.
Beautiful.
“You are hardworking,
Capable.
Successful.
And even when you fall,
you get back up and strive onward.
“You are worthy of love.
The greatest Lover in all of history
found you so worth having
that He died so that he could have you.
“Live in that truth.
That you are precious,
Valuable.
Treasured.
Wanted.
“Reform the words you speak to yourself
speak the truth of who you are
because the words you say to yourself
become your identity.”
Dirty Mirror

Poetry

Dirty Mirror

By

Vivid blue eyes
blurred by tears
stare back at me
through the dirty mirror
I see
imperfections
problems
every single flaw:
acne
weight gain
failure
shame
Just when I’m starting
to feel confident again
the mirror
the camera
the insensitive friend
reminds me
I’m not good enough
Will I ever be?
Trying
failing
working so freaking hard
to be perfect
flawless
problem-free
Why am I grasping, straining, clutching
striving after the impossible,
the unnecessary?
I’m loved
I’m treasured
without me trying
sans my effort
minus my strivings
I’m accepted
in spite of my imperfections
together with my failures
along with my problems
Accepted
when the mirror mocks me
when the shame won’t die
when failure stalks me
Accepted
because His love is constant
never changing
ever embracing
Accepted
deeper than a bottomless ocean
broader than East to West
Snails, Dust, and Suitcases – Musings on Moving

Poetry

Snails, Dust, and Suitcases – Musings on Moving

By

My room is eerily empty
dust gathers on the floor.
Taped up boxes filled to the brim
hauled, one-by-one, out the door
The contents of my half-packed suitcase
the nearly empty bookcase
with only a few abandoned volumes
filling up the empty space
Crumbs of this,
pieces of that
this paper a treasure,
that one trash
A thrill for the new
an ache for the old
leaving is never easy
but the house is being sold
Cobwebs in the corner-
they’ve always been there-
water heater’s broken
the snails and spiders stare
The breezeway is filthy
stains my feet black
my aircon keeps breaking
the screen door pops back
Frogs on my doorknob
coming up the drain
cockroach on my shoulder
snails appear when it rains
You could say it’s got “character”
Full of it’s own unique flaws
But it’s the place I felt at home
and certainly not without cause
Three whole years
doesn’t sound like much
but it sure adds up when
you’re living life and such
Well, we’re not going far
but it’s the end of a season
I’ll pine for the lizard’s song
but I won’t miss the sneezin’
Slow Your Breath Down

Poetry

Slow Your Breath Down

By

Breathe in.
Fill your lungs and belly.
Breathe out.
It’s sweet, nourishing water.
Breathe in.
Sink deeper.
Breathe out.
Surrender more fully.
Breathe in.
This ocean has no shores.
Breathe out.
This ocean has no bottom.
Breathe in.
You are safe and cherished here.
Breathe out.
You are delighted in here.
Breathe in.
You are treasured.
Breathe out.

You are loved.


Inspired by the Future & Forestry song after which this poem is named as well as C.S. Lewis’ book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  As the ship drew nearer Aslan’s country the waters grew sweet, and filled their bellies… and satisfied them.

Soul Rubbed Raw

Poetry

Soul Rubbed Raw

By

Soul rubbed raw
heart heavy with tears
lead in my veins
stalked by my fears

Wondering why
is my skin so frail
that every word pierces
like rusty old nails

Hiding in the dark
longing to be with
desperately needing freshness
yet feeling old, dry, stiff

Tears burn forth
limbs grow weak
heaviness prevails
loneliness still seeks

 

Nearly all of my posts end in hope, or at least have a thread of hope running through.  While communicating that hope is one of the goals I’ve had for this blog since it began,  I’m learning that fully inhabiting and expressing pain acknowledges that raw truth that there isn’t always visible hope.  An expression of pain doesn’t always end with a neat, happy resolution. Sometimes it just confesses the darkness and despair felt in that moment. 

This poem was written some time ago, but I share it to encourage you not to stifle your emotions or bottle up your feelings.  Deep, strong emotions don’t just go away.  Find a healthy way to express them that works for you, whether that’s poetry or some other form of creative writing, art, sculpture, music, dance or just talking to a friend. 

Be honest. Be raw. 

Rage if you need to.  Weep if you need to. 

It may not make everything better, but it will be a big step toward healing.  And it will be much healthier than trapping those toxic sentiments inside.

What have you learned about handling emotions in your own life?  What works for you?  What doesn’t work?
The Vessel

Poetry

The Vessel

By

Dry, like an empty jar
Nothing to bring, nothing to offer
Empty hands, empty heart
Knowledge unsought, talents buried
Unworthy vessel, deserving dishonor
He lifts up from the lowly place

His face filled with unfathomable love
He knows my weakness, knows my name
One command, just one request
“Just give me your all, your everything”
Unworthy vessel, he chooses to honor
And fills with beauty from the holy place

The jar now filled with unbound joy
Bringing hope, offering peace
Hands full of blessing, heart full of love
Wisdom seeking, talent investing
Unworthy vessel, given over to God
Pouring forth His blessings– with a smiling face

 

This poem was inspired by 2 Kings 4, Proverbs 3:5-6, Luke 1:26-38, 46-55.