Cleansing

I need this, as I embark today into uncertainty. I take comfort in knowing that God has a plan, but I guess I still need to…let go.

Letting go is hard. I don’t like it. Because I want control. I need it. I crave it. My humanity seems to starve without it.

But He demands it.

All I want is a little piece. I can try to hide it from him, my little corner of my life that I refuse to give over to him. The area that I continue to hold onto with clenched fists and white knuckles for fear that my grip will slip. But that’s the thing–God doesn’t want just a part of me. God wants my all.

I guess that’s why it’s so hard.

And I mean, I’ve been down that road before. I know that a lot of times, it’s a struggle. It will be hard. I know that a lot of times, following God means the road might feel broken and twisted and thorny–but I also know what it feels like to bask in the light, what it feels like as he chisels away to be made new. And, well, that’s the one thing I want more than control.

It’s beautiful, really. For those of you still searching, take it from me: it is worth it. It is so worth it. And he will come through. That’s the glorious thing about God: God doesn’t depend on how I feel, but on who he is. And he is faithful, and he is in control.

But surrender, it does have to be intentional. These feelings of closedness, these walls around my heart–I have to lower them on purpose. Sometimes I hold onto my own pain just because I want to feel something, not wanting to risk letting him in even though I know that he brings something so much greater. Something holy. Something powerful. Something that will make me whole.

Sometimes I call it love.

But these are the same feelings I was having a month ago when I wrote this poem. It’s not much of a poem, really; it doesn’t rhyme or anything. But I need this, as I embark into my mission this summer, sharing God with kids all season–I need a cleansing. I need to know my heart is whole and wholly his. I need his refining fire to make me pure. So I let go, and call down the Name of God in this place today. Change me.

Take all of your guilt;
hold your shame in your hands–
and squeeze.
Draw out your fears,
and condense all your grief.
Take hold of despair
and crumple your worry,
hidden in your clenched fists,
like a ball of newspaper.
Throw your sin on the pile too.
Hold them.
Gather them and cup them in your open palms and shape them into a leaden ball.
Heavy.
Dense.
Compact.
But at least, at last outside of you.
Feel it’s weight–
and like a lantern, let it fly.
Release it all into the sky.
Relax your tight and desperate grip.
I know you’re afraid to lose it,
for it feels like all you have.
You thought it was a part of you,
and, yes, it was:
it’s made you stronger.
But now it’s started crippling you.
And it’s time
to let go.
Release.
Light it up and watch it disappear
like a blue balloon.
And now,
breathe.
Unfold, and let your colors loose upon the world.

Blessings,
Bre

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Mockingbirds

image

They echo the calls of the will o’ the wisps,
whose cry is repeated on your lips,
whatever it may be.

Brown-speckled wings and eyes alight
far over idle troubles fly:
A song of mimicry.

Why is it that you echo so?
I wonder if I’ll ever know
why in you I see me.

Walls

I build my castle, brick by brick.
Walls: to keep others out
and to lock myself in.
Stone by stone I lay it down,
Barriers and boundaries,
lines in the ground.
But you know, however imposing,
all it takes is a word
for them to crumble. Supposing–
Supposing you were to try
I daresay you’d be surprised
how simple
it is
if you’re kind.

A Plethora of Poetry!

April, as knows anyone familiar with the blogging hemisphere, is NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month! An English teacher of mine challenged me to write a poem a day, and despite a lot of crazy stuff going on this month and the extreme likelihood of acute lack of sleep in the last few weeks due to my show this last weekend, I decided to give it a go. This is the last one I wrote for the month, and somehow it seemed fitting to close out a month of this writing exercise that really challenged me in a great way. It’s a little more playful and sing-songy than many of my others, as well as not so personal, which makes it easier to share.

Anyway, without further ado, I present “Paper Wings: An Ode to Books.”

Sequestered in a corner
they make the world go round
In someone else’s problems
my own no longer found.

They are ocean waves of power
or portholes of escape
Ideas yet unpondered
or dreams yet to be made.

I take flight on paper wings
Fresh eyes behold the view
Exposed to these unheard-of things
Books have now become my shoes.

I may be sharing more poems in the future. Depends how brave I get. Blessings!

–Bre

Hiatus and a Poem

Hey all,

Things have been crazy lately. Busy busy busy, so many things on my mind. Well, I’m back. Hopefully things will be a bit more regular now (but don’t count on it)! Blessings,

–Bre

Even my smile is fake.
My teeth with Colgate whiteness,
my lips an artificial pink.
My eyes with lengthened lashes
and my skin smoothed by chemicals,
perfect glow,
powdered cheeks.
My nails as polished as my face and
my clothes another shell.
Hair curled with precision.
It all looks real
but don’t be fooled.
The real me is hidden
deep inside myself.
I’m waiting to be seen
instead of merely skimmed
glanced over
looked at
looked past.
I want to be looked into.
Come find me
through this forest of fakery
I’m still here. It shouldn’t be hard
except that it’s not exactly what you’re used to, is it–
Realness, I mean.
For even my smile is fake.

q

To the Revolutionaries

d

This one goes out to the world-changers,

the earth-shakers,

the custom-breakers, culture-shapers, change-makers.

This one goes out to the crazy ones,

the believing ones,

the brave ones,

the faith-filled ones.

The ones who are terrified to act

but more terrified of what it means if nobody does.

The ones who live with their eyes open and their hands free.

The ones who recognize that they’re only here once–

they only get one shot,

one chance,

one life,

one blip on the radar of time

–once, and they’re the ones

who try and make something of it.

The ones who go beyond influence

to impact.

The ones who leave their mark,

a legacy,

a torch still burning

to be carried by the next generation

of world-changers,

earth-shakers,

custom-breakers, culture-shapers, change-makers.

With one foundation forming their reputation

they go

and they live

the lives that we remember.

Together

we could be

the next generation of world-changers,

earth-shakers,

custom-breakers, culture-shapers, change-makers.

We could be

the ones that carry the torch,

ignite the flames

of change.

We could be

the generation to live,

to really live,

to live alive and thrive, not just survive.

Not looking to make it through

but to make it matter.

Not looking for my own glory, my own fame,

my own dreams, desires, wants, name.

But for something bigger, something

more.

I’m still looking out for number one

it’s just that maybe number one

has a different name than me.

His name

is Jesus.

And this December

there’s a day that we remember

not for lights,

not for food,

not for glitter and gold,

not for commercialism,

consumerism,

or commonplace contamination,

but for someone

who knew that we could never get to God,

never reach that standard of perfection,

made it so we didn’t have to–he offered me redemption.

It’s the awesome gift of grace:

we call it commonplace,

take it for granted,

because we don’t understand it,

but it comes in the shape

of a cross.

So say thanks

and start a movement

spread the blaze

there’s still time for change,

so be brave.

Change the world, shake the earth,

move a mountain if that’s what it takes

to step out in faith.

Take a risk,

take a chance,

because you only get one–chance, that is–

so make it matter, if you want to be a

world-changer,

an earth-shaker,

a custom-breaker, culture-shaper, change-maker.

The kind of revolutionary

that Jesus was. Carry the torch,

and march on,

in faith.

–Bre