Healing Heart

After I saw a video on the BBC about the situation in India, I wrote this poem. It is the grief in my own heart that I have felt since my mother passed away, almost three years ago, of cancer, combined with the grief I saw in that video and the grief that I know exists all around the world. Losing someone is so painful, undescribable in words, but please know that rays of hope glimmer at the horizon! xox Gineke

Healing Heart

My heart contracts in pain,
as tear drops trickle down the veins,
forcing primal cries from the depths,
of my shattered soul staring at me,
in the broken mirror reflections on the floor.

My hands lifted you up in love,
carried you around a desolated city,
searching for one heart willing to help,
but the silence has fired back at me,
like a thousand knives stabbing me,
in a defenseless attack I cannot win!

I am holding your picture in my hands,
unable to understand how this happened,
yet fully aware that death can come knocking,
at my own front door at any time,
so I close the door and wonder why,
the future has abandoned us this time?

As the sun comes up in the east,
the first rays of hope move across the land,
like little drops of gold being spread,
and I cannot wait for the sun in the sky,
bringing a rainbow into my hands,
where memory and hope can blend,
in a healing heart that will one day learn,
how to give her love once again.

Nail it on that cross!

A flower growing between the cold stone rocks –
in temperatures that reach far below zero,
and where even the animals do not choose to live,
still survives on the strength within,
that searches for life in the midst of an expected death,
that is who I really am!

It is not the hope or the love that forces me to go on,
but the ever-present reluctancy to give up.
A faith that lives deep inside of me,
tells me everyday that there has got to be more.
More than this endless suffering,
more than this heart-wrenching pain,
that forces my pillow to catch my tears in the night,
and my soul to hide them during the day.

A Force that is bigger than all of this –
bigger than our entire universe,
is what the last piece of my heart holds onto.
All I hope for is that this Force,
takes my pain and nails it on that cross,
where it can die along with my tears,
to restore the hope,
born from love,
that establishes a fountain of joy,
within every corner of my heart!

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.