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

Yesterday

Yesterday

Walking through the old chapel,
my rustling dress is the only sound I perceive.
The silence encloses my heart,
until an emotional gasp escapes my lungs.

An empty altar stares back at me,
and the desolated pews seem to mock me.
I can’t separate the truth from the lies anymore,
I can’t find out where it all went wrong.

A glimmer of hope had sparkled at the horizon,
a rainbow of love had suddenly welcomed me in.
For only one moment my heart was alive,
for only a season I was allowed to sing.

The only present tears are in my hands,
where my buckling knees give weight,
and the floor feel like a bed of nails,
where I am beaten into.

I scream until my silence becomes audible,
I cry until the grey regains its colors.
But the emptiness is not driven away in this moment,
the hurt is not separated from me today.

While memories play like a film in front of my eyes,
the reality finally finds its way into my mind,
and my heart breaks with the thought,
yesterday was the last time I saw you walk away.

Yesterday

Into the ashes

Into the ashes

The dust softly lands,
on the lonely desert floor,
leaving the desolate state,
of dry wasteland,
exposed.

Formed in my mother’s womb,
my footprints are alone,
and I scream,
until the emptiness,
swallows my tears.

My hands collect the dust,
until it colors my hair grey.
Kneeled into the ashes,
my torn up clothes wait,
for a sigh of relief.

In the tears,
I see my own reflection.
In the pain,
I see my old age.
In my heart,
the desert overwhelms me.

Now these words remain,
from the dust I was taken,
to the dust I will return,
but without you,
I have turned into ashes,
today.

Into the ashes

 

 

 

 

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.