Turn the tide

Turn the tide

Blue oceans are full,
without spilling a single drop.
When the rain falls,
hail sets in,
a storm rushes past,
the dam breaks,
and the water floods,
I am swimming against the tide.

If only the tide could be controlled,
ice bergs would not melt,
a storm be non-existent,
maybe then we would survive.
But we only drown in low water,
on a blue summer day.

Where poor help the poor,
the rich prevent the rain,
to fall on their own roofs.
But mountains do not move,
if we do not ask them too.

The oceans in your eyes,
flood my soul until it breaks,
and in the water-reflections,
I want to turn the tide.

 

 

When the heart burns

When the heart burns

Every step I take,
my empty heart burns,
like a forest on fire.
Trying to rescue life,
in all its forms,
I make a decision,
to fight.

The sun on the horizon,
promises me hope,
but how can I believe,
in a new land,
when the old one,
is still burning?

Letting go of sorrow,
feels like the end,
of my very last breath,
overwhelming me with fear,
until I decide,
to breathe again.

Every step I take,
my empty heart burns,
so lay it on the ground,
to find life without it,
but how can I live,
without my heart?

Every season,
teaches us lessons,
but this season appears,
the hardest of them all,
so I have to believe,
that the lesson of this season,
will be the biggest one,
I have ever learned.

DSCN0641
Photograph made by: Gineke van Keulen!

 

Movement

Movement

In the light of the morning,
I walk on the river shore.
The wind makes my hair dance,
liberating my heavy heart,
from all its burdens.
The light shimmering through the clouds,
caress my face with deep love,
until joy refills the empty spaces,
of my worried soul.
I want to run,
faster than the wind.
I want to fly,
on wings of love,
but I am parched from the endless drought.
This winter morning is a desert,
with burning sand and suffocating heat,
pushing me to search for an oasis.
The greatest battles are often the lonely ones,
where nobody can help you in your pain.
Where hail comes down like brimstone,
and thoughts like whiplashes on your back.
Unwanted feelings that drown you,
making you sink in seas of emotions.
Am I fighting against You?
Or am I fighting against myself?
I want to go back home,
crawl deep under the covers,
in an intense surge of self-pity.
So, I keep on walking,
as long as my feet can hold me,
until the river water has descended.
If liberation from grieve is in the movement,
than growth is closer than I imagined,
and joy is waiting right around the corner.

Movement