A journey

A Journey

In every age,
I walk the steps,
of golden treasures,
and silver plates.
Every angle,
is a broken reality.
Miracles,
a brand new day.

When eyes see,
a crucified love.
Imprisonment,
is an escape.
A creek holds,
a thousand raindrops.
My heart,
over a million tears.

Communication,
interrupts the emotions.
Emotions,
block the communication,
and speech is an impossible road.
The restriction is a feeling.
Your eyes,
a bottomless well,
in which I drown.

The seal on my lips,
cannot hide the lostness.
If my eyes had a sound,
they would scream.
But however I bounce on the door,
I threw away the key.
Now my heart,
lost the connection with my soul,
the key in pure oblivion.

The centuries of time,
swallowed the light-years,
yet not the memories.
In order to breathe,
I need to remember.
In order to live,
the Light has to heal my wings,
but the pain is unbearable.

If only I could speak.
If only I could feel.
The flood of words,
would equal my tears.
The tears would show,
my broken heart.
Your heart would catch my soul,
and I would finally find peace.

Unended,
is my road.
My road,
is a path of love,
on which I will find you back.
Our love,
is my strength.
This life,
a journey.

Silence is a friend!

Silence is a friend

Silence is a friend,
waiting to embrace you,
and yet the world is watching it,
like a prey watches its enemy.
Seeing the trap closing in,
that will tear them up alive.

Faster and faster,
the world is spinning,
but she rather breaks down,
than having friendship with silence.

Silence is peace,
that the world lost.
Out of sight,
out of mind.
Now it waits,
in the shadows of the mind,
to come out into the light,
and give us,
the gift of peace.

High upon a mountain,
in the nature of my Creator,
we are sitting side by side.
Enjoying each other’s company,
like age-old friends.
Closing my eyes,
he shuts out the world,
so I can see reality,
and hear the unseen.
He stands by me,
in the communication,
with my God and Father.
His name is silence,
and silence is my friend!

Under the chuppah

For two nights in a row, I received a vision. The vision showed me a wedding. I was looking through the eyes of the bride. Her face covered with a veil, my sight was through that veil. White chairs on each side, with an aisle in the middle. The wedding took place on a grassland surrounded with trees, as if it was a secluded garden. At the end of the aisle I saw a man in a nice black suit but I couldn’t see his face. I knew he was the groom, because nobody was sitting on the seats and besides us, there was nobody there. The groom was standing underneath a beautiful white chuppah, dressed with white roses. Those same white roses where in a bouquet that I was holding in my hands. The wedding was about to start. And as soon as the image came, it left me.

Today I turned this vision into a poem. Before I started many bible verses came to mind that allowed me to understand the vision better. The bible verse that described the vision best is Isaiah 62:5, which says,

“As a young man marries a young woman, so will your Builder marry you; as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you”.

After this, I looked into the chuppah. In my vision I saw it clearly and I was curious if there was a special meaning to it. During my research I discovered that the chuppah symbolizes so many different things. It was so interesting to read. What stood out to me was the following. The groom enter’s the chuppah first, which symbolises his ownership over the home (the chuppah also symbolises a home) on behalf of the couple. When the bride enters the chuppah, it is as though the groom is proving her with shelter or clothing. With this he publicly demonstrates his new responsibilities towards her.

The reason this stood out to me is because it symbolises our relationship with God so beautifully. When we give our lives/hearts to God, we marry Him in a way. It is as if God is waiting for us under the chuppah and as we (the bride) enter the chuppah, God publicly demonstrates to all living things that He is now responsible for us. It deepens our bond with Him. It connects us to Him on so many different levels. God loves us so much.

I hope this makes any sense to you but if it doesn’t, take the poem as you read it. Let it find a way into your heart and find your own meaning in the words. Because that is the beauty about poetry, it can be read in so many different ways. This is mine and I am so curious….what is yours?

Enjoy the poem (in the picture)

Under the chuppah

Halls of crystal gold

Halls of crystal gold

Halls of crystal gold,
imaginative to the naked eye,
swirl hues of purple and blue,
comforting me with holiness.
In Your eyes is the light of love,
surrounding me with Your presence.
As birds hover in the sky,
wings are like a warm blanket,
and the wind like grape juice,
on a hot summer day.
The feeling of being loved is a treasure.
Rays of gold light up my heart,
to embrace it with love and joy.
In Your eyes I am beautiful,
unimaginable are the halls without me.
A child in the arms of His Father –
I am safe within the walls of Your home.
When I look into Your infinite eyes,
oceans become rivers,
penetrating me with their energy,
rejuvenating me with an endless sense of peace.
Halls of crystal gold lead me to Your throne,
where sparrows nestle in Your lap,
and lions rest at Your feet.
How come I can see You so vividly?
My heart explodes with love,
making my DNA rain down on me like confetti.
Truth like a sword cuts through me,
awareness takes over my soul,
and in one single second I know,
You are the one I live for.

Halls of crystal gold

Lost is the heart that falls in love

lost is the heart that falls in love

Truth be told, I have never written about love in the sence of being in love. Since I find the subject rather difficult and the subjects ‘Faith’ and ‘Life’ a lot easier, I avoid it all together. But yesterday I made an attempt to put something on paper. So here it is and I need your honest opinion. Please leave one in the comment section below. I love to hear from you!

Mind Game

Mind Game

Life on display,
asks you who you are,
where you come from,
and where you go.

Life is a war,
where beauty fights ugly,
where truth fights lies,
where realism fights surrealism,
where rich fights poverty,
where success fights failure,
but it is up to you,
to decide,
where you stand.

Life is a stage,
where judges define,
who we are.
Where a mask hides our identity,
so we remain inside a fiction,
for the rest of our lives.

Life on display,
asks us to have courage.
It asks us to break the masks of lies,
in order to live inside the truth,
of who were are.

Life is a mind game,
where we tell ourselves,
who we are,
and where the whole world,
remains silent!

 

 

 

A joyful winterland

A joyful winterland

 A white blanket covers the earth,
with countless dots of cotton wool.
The cool arctic winds blow through my hair,
releasing my inner-child to the world.

 Laughter is an echo,
that illuminates the darkness.
The white snow is a wall,
that reverberates the sounds,
in silence.

 The endless land provides peace.
Covered in its white blanket,
snow angels come to life,
in thousand different colors.
Angel voices fill the sky,
only to be heard,
in the silent winter sound.
Do you hear the soft sound in the air?

 My bare feet touch the white floor,
as my white robe sweeps the snow.
My life is an eternity,
my joy an endless well of love.
In a wishful moment,
the winter land remains,
and I play forever.

 My Father’s hand touches my heart,
the same way He touched the land,
when it became white.
A tickling sensation,
fills Heaven with shrieks of joy.

 In this joyful winter land,
love has turned peace,
into laughter.

winter 2017

 

Adoption

On the Dutch television is a program about adoption. In this program a team searches for the biological family of someone who is adopted. It has been on the TV for many years. I remember watching it as a teenager with my mom and my brother and it is still airing today. It has always been a fascinating show to me. The reunions are often so emotional and it happens so often that the story about why someone has been adopted is slightly different from what the adopted child has been told.

One morning, about two years ago, I sat down to write a poem. As I sat down, images from this television program flashed in front of my eyes like a vision. The poem God gave me that day gave me a completely different view on the adoption process itself. God allowed me to understand adoption from the biological mother’s point of view. Keeping in mind that not all biological mothers feel this, I do believe that the majority does.

So often adoption is only seen from the point of view from the parents who are adopting a child or the adopted child itself, but never from the point of view of that woman who had to give up her child for whatever reason she had. As a child grows in a mother’s womb, the bond between mother and child is already developed. When the child is born the bond is already established. So giving up a child that you are already connected to so deeply is extremely difficult.

One thing, that is very important to mention, is that I have never had children myself, I am not adopted and I have never had any experience with this whatsoever. So there is no way I can know all this. I only know it because God showed me. All the glory is for God alone because this is His work, not mine!

Adoption

The blue ocean slips through my hands,
after it has pierced my soul with love.
Vigorous brown trees give strength,
but they take my tears back to the clouds,
preventing the rain to fall down,
on my fragile empty hands.

For a while we shared a home,
in the hands of Him who gave us life.
The synchronic beatings of the drums,
changed my heart into a vortex,
where negative surroundings are washed away,
changing into positivity and hope,
until reality sets in and our home is destroyed.

Homeless my heart dwells in a valley,
longing for the rain to fall down,
until it washes away the waves of my last breath.
It has slipped through my hands,
smothered by life I am forced to move on,
and my empty hands show my empty heart.

All I wanted to hear was your smile,
but silence is my daily companion.
All I wanted was to see you walk,
but the road only carries me.
All I wanted was to hear, “I love you”,
but the deafening silence chokes me.
All I wanted was for you to grow up,
so I handed you over to be adopted.

 

 

 

Inside the box

In my life I have always felt that I was different. I felt as if things were never the same for me as they were for others. As a child I tried to blend in and as a teenager even more so. I never had the courage to stand out because I was afraid. Afraid that people would get angry at me. Especially as a teenager I was often excluded, laughed at and at times intimidated. Not just by my peers by also by adults. Trust me when I say, there are certain things that you will never forget.

So out of fear of being excluded, laughed at or hated, I would simply try to blend in. Even when this was not in line with what God would ask from me. God asked me to be a writer – a poet –  but for a long time, I would refuse. Even today I still have moments where I want to give up. These moments are often when people talk behind my back in a negative way and I hear all about it, or when people question me face-to-face. People can be quite convincing. And often I understand their point of view. But then there is God asking something different from me and I get confused about what to do. I remember this one time, when I told my mom: “Life is a battle where it is me and God against the world”. Luckily my mother often listened to me and she would support me in every way that she could. I could really tell her everything because I knew she loved me and I trusted her.

Yet many people are not like my mom. Many people talk behind my back and it is not positive. The prejudices and opinions they have about me are based upon their own insecurity. But still it hurts. Life for me is like living between two fires. The fire of God and the fire of evil. And it is a tough battle.

Still the fire of God is greater. My passion to do God’s will still exceeds everything else. For as long as I can remember I had only one ambition in life; to bring a smile to my Fathers face. And with my Father, I mean God the Father. If I could just put a smile on His face, I would have done the best job that I could possible do. In one of my dreams God said: “the only way that leads to eternity is the small way”. So even if it is difficult to do what God asks you to do, don’t give up. With God everything is possible and God will never leave what He once started. It is better to have faith in God than in people!

Today I wrote a poem about this. It is a poem about my story. I have a huge passion for God the Father, for Jesus and for the Holy Spirit. My love for God makes my heart burst, but so many have tried to stop me through the years. I may be a woman, I may have never been to a prominent bible school or theological study, I may not life up to people’s expectations but I know – with a 100% certainty – that God is greater than my circumstances. God loves me and He will make a way where there is no way. And if you are in the same situation as me? If you feel the same way? Than please know that God is almighty! He loves you! He can and will do amazing things in your life, that may seem impossible. Do not give up! Never! Think outside the box!

Inside the box

Inside the box,
the noose around my neck tightens.
Trying to settle in,
the small nook is too cramped,
and all I want to do,
is to leave this small space.

All eyes tell a different story,
but when they look at me,
all their stories are the same.
Stuck in prejudices and opinions,
war is either neglect,
or fight back.
Who will love me as I am?

Traditions are for keeping,
but not if they suffocate the soul.
When everything is the same,
we are in desperate need of change.
Evolving is teaching yourself to be better,
learning is allowing yourself to grow,
for growth is a never-ending story.

Inside the box,
where I am unable to grow,
I look out into infinity,
where God asks me to live,
in His divine library,
where His great wisdom,
will lead me to eternity.

Between my fingertips

I honestly do not know why I haven’t told this story yet. Is it the fear that nobody will believe me? Maybe the idea that my story doesn’t matter? Or maybe I really just forgot? I don’t know but a sweet friend from Australia inspired me to write the story.

The story is about something that happened to me about three years ago. It was a night like any other. Nothing in particular happened that day, that could have inspired this. It was a dream that I will never forget. It was the dream where I met Jesus, face to face.

In my dream I didn’t see anything other than Jesus. There were no views or surroundings, it was me and Him. He was standing at a distance looking at me and I wondered by myself, “Why are you always standing at a distance from me?
Suddenly He was gone and for a second, I slightly panicked. But then I felt His presence behind me and He came from behind and stepped next to me. I was sitting down and He was standing. All I could do was to stare at Him. My eyes looked into His and didn’t look anywhere else. My heart almost exploded with love for Him. In His eyes I saw both love and peace, but also worry. A worry I didn’t understand then but I do now. With His hand He softly stroke my head and He let His hand rest on my head. Such love! 

I always have these awkward moments where I do something that I don’t quite understand. Here another classic! As we were staring into each others eyes, I couldn’t say a word. So what did I do? I thought about how uncomfortable His robe looked and wondered if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked! So I reached and held His robe between my fingertips and rubbed the fabric gently. It was surprisingly soft though. Then I looked back into His eyes. Out of all the things I could have done, I never expected myself to do that, but He didn’t Judge me. Not once. He still had the same loving, peaceful, worried but gentle look in His eyes. And His hand was still resting on my head. Then He walked away and I so badly wanted to say something, call after Him, but I couldn’t think of anything. I went silent and woke up.

Meeting Jesus, feeling His touch, His love and being so close to Him was an experience I will never forget and never get used to. Even though  it didn’t go exactly according to plan, my plan that is, it did bring me a lot of peace. I always believed in Jesus but somehow it felt as if I needed this. As if I needed it so see Him and touch Him. Just to feel Him close to me. Ever since that day, or should I say night, I am longing to see Him again. Longing for a moment where I can speak. Where my mouth will for words. I am still longing to feel His love as vivid as I did then. Meeting Jesus makes that you just cannot let go anymore. That is the power He has over people. Once you see Him, you can’t let go!  (For all who are wondering what Jesus looked like. He looked exactly like the paintings ‘Prince of Peace’ and ‘Jesus’ by Akiane Kramarik.)

About this experience I wrote a poem called ‘Between my fingertips’ that I would love to share with you now. Enjoy!

Between my fingertips

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your eyes are imprinted in my soul,
how can I ever forget Your gentleness?
Not a word has to be spoken,
our minds are one.
And as the Spirit draws us closer together,
our bond is still the same,
Between You and me,
nothing has changed.

 Your brother love exceeds,
it is a heart without boundaries.
Never will Your anger rain down on me,
or felt in any chamber of Your heart.
Your teachings are my guidelines,
wisdom is planted in my mind,
where it grows out of love for You.
I walk the roads of this world alone,
but in heaven I look out for You.
More are You to me than a Savior,
more than all the Kings of the earth,
more than all my brothers combined.

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your brotherly worries unspoken,
Your love speaks louder than any word could.
Not a soul knows our connection,
or the bloodline that keeps us attached.
The memories hold my heart,
when the distance becomes an obstacle.
All I need to know,
when my soul returns home,
that the fabric of Your robe,
is still between my fingertips.