Learning to Say it is Well

I dreamt you were happy,

I hope that it's true.

I hope that you're free

And light and everything good.

But who am I kidding?

Why should I write anything else,

Or even this, out?

There's nothing more to say

No other words wanted, or necessary,

And certainly none deserved.

So, again, I dreamt you were happy,

And I do hope that it's true.

And fare thee well, my friend-

I'm off like the wind.

After everything else,

After all the dust has settled

And all that remains of once was is

all grey 

all ash

all dust-

Remember that your heart has the capacity to move on

Your heart has the capacity to keep going

Your heart has the capacity to discover 

You left me with these embers

Their soft glow the only means to stay warm;

You came back and fanned the flame

But then you left again.

I thought I might stay awhile

Try to stoke the fire back up

But I couldn’t do it alone.

So I left your embers in search of warmth.

I found another fire

I was warm for a time,

And I fought to keep it alive

But with time,

They left me alone with those embers too

So I’ve decided to move along

Start my own fire

Make it burn for myself.

Keep it warm for myself.

No other fires to “keep me warm”

No other embers to leave me cold.

Just my own fire.

Just my own flame.

Sitting here-

On the cliff-

On the edge

Of my mind,

I’m ready to jump,

I’m ready to die.

—————————

But it’s here-

In my heart-

‘Neath the sun

That I find,

There’s life to be had,

And reasons to try.

—————————-

All the ones that I love

And the life from the Son;

All the grief and the pain,

And all the tears that would stain.

For the faith that I live

And the purpose it gives;

——————————

These are the reasons

I choose everyday

These are the reasons

I choose to stay

There's a world inside my head that I don't know how to write. There are characters and scenes, moments and feelings that exist within the confines of my head. A whole world in another time so vivid, so deceivingly real; but when I go to paint with a pen there's ____________ nothing.

Maybe it's fear. If I write something I want it to be meaningful. And what if I end up writing something entirely insipid and dull? What if I am insipid and dull? What if I never do anything of substance with my life?

The thing about writing is that it's unceasingly vulnerable. Really, I think that's the only thing I actually know about writing.

What if I bleed onto a page, only to have it spurned or carelessly discarded?

So I guess there are options. I could choose to never write. I could live within the walls of my skull and most certainly lose it. Never try, never lose. Never hurt.

I could write, but never share. Get it out and then forget. If I never show myself, how can I ever be judged? Again, never hurt.

But then - I could write, and I could share. I would most certainly be judged, both fairly and unfairly. Some would love it, hopefully. Some would hate it, definitely. Most would probably read it and move on without as much of shrug to betray any sense of connection to my work.

I feel your absence

Like rocks on my chest

Weighing me down,

Down into the abyss.

Drowning in all that isn’t you-

In the silence you’ve kept.

Again and again

You reach for my hand

And bring me up,

Up out of the water

Breathing in everything you are-

All your tender being.

With my heart trembling

And my lungs burning

My hope waning,

Waning from the struggle

My mind cries again for relief-

But then you’re gone again

-Hanna Elisabet

Everything about you hurts

And even so I miss you and

I love you.

But still you hurt.

All at once I want to flee from you and breathe the same air as you.

You've created this paradox

Within my heart that desperately wants you

But also wants you to leave forever.

And I think over and over again

That if this is love, I do not want it.

I want my heart to feel the pain of books and stories- not the pain of real life.

And so here I sit living in a contradiction, ready to run away and chase the moon, and sabotaging myself all the while,

And worrying that I'll get worse and you won't want me any longer.

I love him not for the way he

Stands by my side,

Nor for the kind compassion

He brings through my night.

I love him not for the

Laughter he brings,

Nor for the tenderness

That he sings; Oh no -

I love him for his heart,

For the way that he dreams.

I love him for his passion,

For his zeal that bursts from the seams.

I love him for his past,

For his Hurts and his scars.

I love him for his creativity,

For the way he keeps his head in the stars.

I love him not for what he does

For others or me -

I love him simply for who he is

And who he will be.

And it was this moment

That filled her chest and

Gripped her soul.

It was in this moment,

Laying beside him

That she couldn’t help

But gingerly dare to

Touch his skin.

He had never seemed

As beautiful to her

As he did now in this moment -

Peacefully asleep after laying,

After loving, together.

There was something vulnerable-

Something raw and ethereal,

About knowing the depths

Of another person and

Having them know you

At the same time.

And it was in this moment,

In the quietness of resting together,

That she wondered at the bliss that was hers.

At all the wonder that he was.

At the love that inextricably

Bound her being to his.

The breathless cold has left the air, A silent chill in its place. The flowers and grass? Dead. A dull grey paints the landscape. The world waits for the dawn of spring, A quiet waiting fills the earth’s soul.

But the sun has yet to come. Spring lingers- It makes no haste. When the wonder of winter has left, And all is dead and worn, Will your heart still marvel at the Creator? Or, like the trees, Remain bare?

Lately I find that things Are not what I thought And normal seems to have been But a dream Things are not what they seem And all is not right But still I know- Oh how I know, You truly are Lord.

My heart is in a quandary Confusion clouds my thoughts Heroes of old fall to the Mercies of time And all that I knew seems To be undone. Yet as I seek shelter in the shadows I see You there. The light first dimly now growing Slowly, and slowly. My eyes squint and strain Ever longing to be in Your light: The place of hope- Of redemption.

Tired, tired my eyes grow weary Grasping and hoping Struggling to hold the gaze. My heart is battered and bruised Constantly yearning and reaching For strength but finding none. Tired, tired, my heart grows faint. Yet I know in the core of my heart You are Lord.

You are the One who restores And renews. Reconciliation is Your will. Strength and love emanate from You. You long for Your creation, The ones that You love. The lost and the fallen, the tired and weak. The helpless and Wandering. You are compassion and tenderness, Yearning and pining for Eden. One Day You say. One Day, just a little longer And I will regather my little ones; I will find all my beloved and Bring them back to Eden.

As You wait, You comfort. You steady my hand and take hold of My heart. I Breathe in Your strength, And Breathe in Your hope. You take the light radiating off of You And bring it closer to me. You teach me to say ‘it is well with my soul’ And You show me the way to Your home. Your whispers of hope to my soul Show me just how wonderful And beautiful You truly are. A friend and a Father, a Lover and King, Your character disarms me And covers me in grace. All my hope is in who You are.

What is a memory? A fleeting image going through our heads A dream that we see while sleeping in our beds

What is a memory? A figment of our imagination A distant remembrance of a celebration

What is a memory? Something that happened in a distant past Or something you wished would always last

What is a memory?

It comes in waves- Crashing and heaving; This melancholy state, Coming and leaving.

These waves come and go, Triggered by the smallest tremors. They never quite fully leave, Causing and forcing a heart into clamors.

It comes in waves- Breaking and thieving; The heart rendered stricken, Hurting and grieving.

This Grief rises and lowers with the tide And yet in time, the heart learns to cope; It learns to ride the waves, And dares even to hope.

It comes in waves- Washing over and heaping; These feelings insurmountable, Crying and dreaming.

And again it comes in waves- The way the heart breaks; But eventually the clouds begin to clear, And dawn begins to wake.