In Anguish – a Psalm

In Anguish – A Psalm

 In anguish I have called You,
pleading for mercy in front of Your throne.
But Your mind was made up.
Your resolution like a staff,
firm in Your hands.

 Sometimes Your love hurts,
like an embrace during intense grief.
And yet it is to comfort me.

 I wish the rain would trickle down,
and wash all my tears away in the stream.
Now the earthquakes shake up my heart,
awakening the dawn after a tumultuous night.
Will peace ever relief my temple Father?
Will paradise ever be in the palm of my hand?

 Trust is a floating device,
one that I desperately hold on to,
when it feels like I am on a sinking ship.
So I burn a candle for You Father,
to send my prayers up in the smoke,
where You will hear it like a loud call.

 I bow down in humility,
for I am an obedient servant.
Whether or not I am a queen,
I am first of all Your daughter.
Send me Father and I will go.
Speak to me and I will listen.

 My life is Yours alone,
mold me into Your masterpiece.
Let the Heavens rejoice in Your glory,
and worship Your name forever,
for Your plans will never fail,
Your almighty hand will never weaken.

 One day Your children will stand side by side,
united in Your glorious presence Father.
Until then my love will never lessen,
and my soul will only grow stronger in Your light.

Let our dream be our love,
in Yeshua our deepest delight.
And when my anguish has changed into joy,
my identity will shine like the sun,
fulfilling the purpose of Your great plan.
Revealing the loving glory of You,
my Father, my Heart and my Life.

 Father,
In Your hands I command my spirit.

 

When a chapter ends a story

This is a new poem I wrote. I hope you like it!

When a chapter ends a story

When a chapter ends a story,
a swimmer dives from a diving board,
into a deep ocean of gardenia petals,
until the sun sets at the horizon,
and the night falls in love with the dawn.

The love of a hundred puppies,
is so much more than life alone.
How overwhelming the Light is,
in the midnight sky.

When a chapter ends a story,
the writer provides another book.

Love is free of charge.
Joy is a gift of undeniable love,
but receiving is a choice,
left for the receiver.

A silver heart necklace around your neck,
is a reminder of eternal gratitude.
And the postcard view of destiny,
a solid proof of Paradise.

The rose blooms

The rose blooms

Tears bring forth joy.
Through the ashes of pain,
a rainbow colors the horizon –
hope is a glimmering in the sky.

When pain scars the heart,
screams whisper in silence,
until the earth breaks into an earthquake –
relief is the essence of tears.

An ocean of tears fills one heart,
but only through the sunshine,
the rain falls down like shimmering stars,
and the rose blooms in full bloom.

*When my mother passed away last Friday, I never thought that I would ever be able to write again. For how do you find the words in such times of grieve? How do you find the words when the woman who was your greatest love and support has gone to Jesus?
You don’t. God gives them to show you His presence and everlasting love. I am not alone! And there is a golden light at the horizon!

Redemption

Redemption (the poem) is based on a dream that I had a couple of days ago.

In my dreams I was running through a city. Someone was chasing me but I didn’t really know who. I tried to get away but was unsuccessful in my efforts. In order to escape I ran to a stairway that lead down to a dark and scary subway station. For me it felt like the only way out.

Two steps down the stairs I stopped. In the corner of my eye I noticed a little white-blue songbird. The bird looked like a blue tit without the yellow chest. He was only blue and white colored and he had a little white tuft on his head. He was a very cute little guy!

The little bird tilted his head and looked at me with curiosity and sympathy in his eyes. With one single look he touched my heart.

Even though I was afraid, I did bend over and let the little guy hop onto my hand. He immediately started to peck between my fingers but it didn’t hurt me. After he was done with my right hand, he hopped over to my left until he seemed done. He then hopped into the palm of my hand where I could take a closer look at him.

Suddenly I noticed a black tick on my pointer finger. Left untreated, the bite of a tick can be deadly so I panicked. But before I could act, the little bird pecked at the tick and flew away.

As I was looking for signs of bite marks, the tick disappeared. In its place came a smiley face (like an emoji) that was branded into my skin. Slowly the panic left my heart and peace took its place. Then a little soft whisper in my heart said, “You are safe”.

In my dream the little white-blue bird saved me. The entire day I kept meditating on this dream. In the afternoon I felt the urge to write a poem about it. When I did, things became much clearer to me. The little white-blue bird represents the Holy Spirit. When we are in danger or at a place in our life that is not good for us, the Holy Spirit is with us to help us. But it is up to us to notice Him and invite Him into our lives. When we do, He will take all that is dirty, all that is dangerous and all that will hurt us away from us. The black tick represents evil. The Holy Spirit will peck at evil as long as it takes evil to leave us alone. It is the Holy Spirit that will always help us and stand by us, no matter where we are in life. He does this because Jesus died for our sins and rose from the dead. If we believe in Jesus we receive the Holy spirit to stand by us at all times. This is what redemption really is. Jesus loves us so much that He will do whatever He can to save us. The Holy Spirit is the Mighty Helper who will comfort us and give us strength. In order to stand firm in this life, we need them both!

Redemption

On a wild chase,
the city lost me,
and the only escape,
leads me down the stairs,
of a dark subway station.

Descending the stairs,
I find you,
and your curious sympathy,
touches me.

 Movement runs fast,
in fear it is uncontrollable,
but your steps are premeditated,
and your motions are effortless.

Unafraid is your heart,
diligent your observation.

A little white-blue bird you are,
resting in the palm of my hand.

As you fly away on the wind,
my fingertips turn into a smile,
the sign of your everlasting redemption.

 

 

 

Holy Dove

Holy Dove

Gentle like a dove,
He whispers hope,
to move my heart,
with words of wisdom

My heart dances,
at the sound of His voice,
whispering love,
with the song of a dove.

I hear you!
Keep talking.
Never will You leave me,
my everlasting helper.

I see You!
Stay with me.
Allow me the joy,
of Your everlasting presence.

Your white blanket,
that shines like the sun,
shows me Your holiness,
and takes my heart,
to higher grounds.

My Holy Dove,
whisper support,
give hope to my heart,
and help me,
to find my way.

Let me stay in the Light,
of Your comforting wings.

This poem is dedicated to the Holy Spirit. My honor for His love, wisdom and guidance!

 

 

Between the lines

For the past seven years, I have dedicated my life to writing poetry (and every other word that God gives me). Though I write mostly for myself, I have always had my focus on the reader. What would the reader need most? What would God want the reader to know? And even though this is not a bad concept, I have learned something more valuable over the years.

Over the years I have written over 250 English-languaged poems (and a handful of Dutch ones), give or take. Poems that contain a piece of God and a piece of myself. Whether God quoted it or I wrote it. It has always been a partnership where God receives all the credit. And for me, it works! For me it is the most functional way of working and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

During the years I have been through a lot. Not just the past seven years but ever since childhood. All of these struggles have found a way into my poetry. Don’t misinterpret these words though, because my poetry is not a summery of misery. With the struggles, God always handed me the solutions whether I was ready for it or not. I know the solution can sometimes overwhelm you and make you feel as if you will never be able to accomplish it. Therefore God often gives long-term solutions. Solution you can grow into as time passes by. Every day is a learning process. We are not expected to succeed in a day, week or year. God knows how long we need and that is the exact time he gives us.

Since my poetry has always treasured the solutions, they have always been my greatest comfort in times of need. Whenever I felt sad, lonely, frustrated or confused, the Holy Spirit would most often lead me to my own poetry. Between the lines I fely comfort, answers, peace and the love of my Heavenly Father. Reading these poems and feeling the great comfort they bring me, even though I wrote them myself, installed a greater understanding deep within my soul.

‘When the work you do for God heals you more than others, you’ve done something right!’

Isn’t it true that when God calls us to work in His Kingdom, we are so extremely focused on others. We need to save the world, heal mankind and bring them safe and sound into the arms of Jesus. But what if Jesus has a greater message for us than for others through the work we do? Aren’t we missing out on something?

I see so many of us make that mistake. We are so focussed on teaching that we forget to be taught. We are so focused on helping that we forget to be helped. We are so focussed on loving that we forvet to be loved. We so easily forget ourselves. How wonderful it is to know that even though we forget ourselves, God does not. He sees us and loves us. And through His everlasting love He wants to teach us every day, face to face, in the most personal way. And sometimes we don’t need to cross oceans to find it. The greatest lessons we learn are in our own handwriting. All we need is to be reminded of it.

From Death to life

Three years ago I traveled to the province Thüringen in Germany with my parents. During our stay we visited concentration camp Buchenwald. Buchenwald touched me in such an emotional way that it inspired me in more ways than I could ever imagine.

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Buchenwald still has a few buildings that give a vivid picture of what it must have looked like back in the days. One building houses the ovens, another shows the pictures of what happened there. Jews, gypsies, christians even that were undressed and shaved and divided amongst the camp. Pictures that brought tears to your eyes.

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Yet all the barracks are gone. One barrack was recreated by pictures.  This was a hospital barrack where sick were tended to, but it isn’t the original. On the places where the barracks used to be are stones. The stones outline the places where the barracks used to be and they are filled with gravel stones.

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As I was walking across the grounds, I noticed flowers growing between the rocks. This surprised me. A place where life seemed to be impossible, a place of rocks, housed a group of dandelions. I know that dandelions are seen as weed but to me they are flowers. And the symbolism of these pretty little flowers growing between the rocks blew me away.

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When dandelions die, they change from yellow flowers into white flowers with uncountable seeds that blow away on the wind. Kids love to pick these flowers and blow the seeds onto the wind. The seed fly away and land on other grounds where the produce a new flower. The death of a dandelion in never the end, it is a brand new beginning for uncountable new flowers.

The symbolism or message that God gave me is that death is never the end. Just like the dandelions. The People who survived the camps have been given a new life. Where Hitler tried to wipe the Jews from the face of the earth, God took the few ones left to create a brand new nations. The destruction from humankind cannot stop God from creating beautiful new beginnings. One person is one dandelion. Through our trials and struggles we become uncountable seeds that create new life all across the world.
Even if Hitler would have killed all the Jews, God only needed one to create a brand new nation just like He did with Abraham. When God called Abraham, Abraham did not have children. In fact his wife Sarah was not even able to have children. Yet God took this hopeless situation and turned it into a story of hope. Abraham became the father, the patriarch, of more children then all the stars in the sky and the sand of the ground.

The flowers growing between the rocks inspired me to write the poem ‘A Flower of Hope’. It taught me that even the most hopeless situation is the beginning of new hope, new life and new beginnings. It is a message that I still need today, every day of my life. And a message that can give the world, a world that houses so many people who lost hope, new hope, new life and a new beginning. For God death is never the end but a brand new and hopeful beginning!

Flower of Hope
(The poem in the picture, see below)

A Flower of Hope

Through the rocks,
of earthy ashes,
grows new life,
that gives us hope.
To wipe the tears,
through deep suffering,
from innocent children,
of God the Father.

Without a thought,
the rocks were broken,
leaving the pieces,
of worthy crystals,
out in the open.
Washed away,
by the cold icy rain.
Nobody saw,
too little cared,
and now it flutters,
into oblivion.

Yet God left a sign,
for the world to see,
the worthy lives,
of His loving people.
There in the rocks,
of the oblivion,
grows a flower,
to give us hope,
of a new,
and better life.

 

The hydrangea speaks

The hydrangea is one of my favorite flowers. It reminds me of the Holy Spirit. Every single time when I see a hydrangea, I instantly think about the Holy Spirit. The petals, the colors, its energy, it all reminds me of who the Holy Spirit is.

A couple of years ago, we had an indoor hydrangea on our diner table. The diner table is the place where I usually write because it allows me to look outside. Besides there is a certain energy, a cozy feeling that relaxes me and helps me find God’s voice.
This day we had, like I said, a hydrangea at the diner table. As I was looking at it, at the deep blue/purple colors, I felt the Holy Spirit inside me, around me and inside the hydrangea flowers. Words came like water from a fountain and formed the next poem that I would like to share with you. Enjoy!

The hydrangea speaks

The purple saturates the veins,
of the blue hydrangea petals.
The white truth holds the core,
in the center of the heart.
Energy bursts like little falling stars.
The room is filled with You,
and all I see are the hydrangea petals.

The rainbow attracts the eyes,
with water through the light,
providing colorful promises.
Like the sun that brightly shines,
peace breaks through the leaves,
that holds the petals up,
with strength beyond belief.

If the petals could speak,
they would sing.
If the petals could move,
they would dance.
If the petals could touch my heart,
they already did.

Spirit of the Light,
who holds the truth,
and comforts in the night,
give me words of wisdom.

The Spirit saturates the veins,
guiding the mind to the truth,
the center of the universe,
to the heart of the Creator,
where it whispers to the soul.

Hidden in the hydrangea petals,
of blue and purple shades,
in the center of the truth,
is the love of my Father.

Hydrangea

Truth is freedom

Usually I am not exactly a morning bird. In the morning I need some time to wake up and get started. But one morning, when I was alone, I woke up early. That morning I sat down with a writing pad. I felt so inspired but at the same time I didn’t know what to write. As soon as I put my pen on the paper, the words came out so fluently that I had to put in a lot of effort to keep up. I cannot write every day at the same time and often, any time before dawn is not a particularly favorite writing time for me. When I write, I wait for God’s voice to guide me through the words. Sometimes He quotes them, sometimes I get dreams, visions or I see quick pictures in front of my eyes, and at other times I find the words in my own heart. And when I read my poetry back later on, I can always find God back in the words, pages and poems. My poetry is not just an outlet. It is my breath, my beating heart. It is my life line in times of sorrow. It is my joy and my happiness. I was meant to write! I was meant to write poetry!

Truth is Freedom

Questions ask Questions,
through the answers multiplied.
Answers calm the soul,
but only for a little while.
The answers we want to hear,
lead us walking in circles,
endlessly.

Where the truth shines his light,
human eyes are blinded by its brightness,
but if we dare to open our heart,
the truth will set us free.

Truth answers questions.
Peace calms the soul.
The two are undeniably connected,
for truth and peace give acceptance,
and broken circles give a narrow road,
until we learn how to walk in truth.

Questions ask questions.
Answers question itself.
But the truth is a rock,
steadfast and unshakable,
where we can lean on in times of trial.
The truth is the Light that sets our mind free.
Eternal freedom that sets us in the Light.

Truth is freedom for the soul!

The song of the angels

At first I wrote this poem in Dutch, but today I translated it into English so I can share it with all of you. I hope you like it!

The song of the angels

 In the moonlight of the dusk,
when the earth is silent,
I hear the angels sing,
on the melody of the nightingale.

When the sunlight wakes from her slumber,
the nightingale keeps silent in the moonlight,
but the song of the angels goes on,
where the hummingbird finds her nectar.

The sweet nectar makes the soul sing,
on the song of the angels,
so we can arise the earth from her ashes,
hand in hand with the hummingbird.

Just like seeds that spread on the wind,
to cover the earth with all that lives,
joy give birth to joy,
and peace finds a resting place in the soul.

But the song of the angels goes through all the ages,
and in the eye of the storm will be peace,
so the clanking swords fall silent,
and fire disappears in her ashes.

Then the earth will be dressed in peaceful green,
and all the nations will sing hand in hand,
the song of the angels.