Overcrowded and Alone

A world bustling with people,

An overcrowded globe,

Feels too full, too many,

Still, somehow, we feel alone.

Amidst the engine noise and rumble,

Streaks of concrete cross the wild,

Stacked – packed – in our little boxes,

Desolate father, mother, and child.

Screens and memes to distract the heartache,

Isolated laughter – a single voice,

Superficial smiles and daily banter,

Strangers or solitary the only choice.

Plexiglass barriers erected,

Keep your distance, cover face,

Walls were holding us apart,

Long before the Covid days.

Self worth in work, events and people,

As our lives become undone,

Insecurities uncovered –

Do I matter to anyone?

Do I matter? Ah, there’s the question,

Age old struggle to find our way,

Each alone must search the answer,

To find meaning in each day.

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Pursuit of Beauty

The other day, I posted a poem and some of you may have gotten it already in an email. But the formatting was wrong and so I quickly took it down, meaning to repost it later that day. The weekend sort of got away on me, so finally now, mid-week, I’m posting it again. I wrote the poem after witnessing multiple friends/acquaintances go through diets that resembled eating disorders.

It broke my heart.

What breaks my heart even more is that while there is some pressure on men to look fit, there is far more pressure on women. It’s hard to even find a group of friends these days where the woman will actually eat something other than a salad, or a lettuce wrapped vegan burger, while her husband munches on a triple sized meal complete with appetizers and dessert.

I’ve struggled with it myself; the pressure that my worth is dependant on my waist size. I get tons of smiles and comments when I lose weight. I get judgmental looks when I order the full burger with a side of fries. And so, I wrote this poem a few years back, challenging our thinking about health and weight. What is true beauty?

 

By: Heather Dawn

 

She pushes her plate aside, eyes resigned

He feasts like a king, never bothers to mind

He’s never been pushed, never been told

For fat or slim; they still like him

She wakes up before them and paints up her face

Her workout begins, her pulse starts to race

Long past her goal, a new goal is found

Just a little bit more, just another pound

Her face once full of warmth and life, now is cold and hollow

The cheeks once flushed grow ever pale, the eyes once bright grow weary and dull

She forces a smile, flashing perfect white teeth,

that hurt from the treatments if she touches a sweet

All the beauty that masks the beast raging inside

Fixing only what fades, while neglecting her inmost cry

They like her less, even less than before,

Maybe once she’s shed just a little bit more…

Dear Child, fading slowly, you were fine as you were

They tell you otherwise, but what do they know?

They too are lost in a struggle they’ve always known

Their size is the measure for the worth of their soul.

Look up, Beautiful One and seek out the truth,

Outward beauty is common, it’s not hard to find

Breathtaking it is, but it withers like grass

The rare beauty you long for is not found in a store

It can’t be ‘put on’ or bought, it’s worth much much more

It’s in a gentle free heart, so patient and fair

A face full of grace, hands eager to share

It’s in a voice so sweet, full of life bringing words

Or arms strong and tough, but willing to serve

It’s in love that pours out, expecting none in return,

It’s a harsh word held back, and gentleness learned,

It’s in scars that speak volumes of making it through,

In wrinkles that earned the respect they are due,

It’s in the bright stretching lines on a new mother’s skin,

It’s in the way a little child mischievously grins.

True beauty is what the world seems to pass by.

True beauty is what the world try’s hard to hide.

But the rarer it grows, the brighter it shines.

Dear Child, you must choose what you want to pursue.

Will it be true beauty within, or will the outside of you win?

 

Last Day for Homeschool

Seven long years gone by,

But all too soon it was done.

Like a lifetime it passed,

Then just like that it was gone.

From cute little voices and singsongy rhymes,

To difficult writing ups and chemistry times.

There was no climax,

No warning,

No bell.

No clock chimes to warn the end of the spell.

It just came and went,

The same as the others.

This very last day.

No extra sentiment or tears.

Just rushing through work,

Learning through play.

The same as the others,

But altogether different,

This very last day.

Still, the mind reflects,

A tad of happiness, a tinge of regret.

A bittersweet memory, a promise not kept.

From now on moments together will be few,

My role half way done,

My job nowhere through.

Long days of sighing past,

Only to sigh looking back.

Wanting what is behind.

And knowing I don’t want it all.

That last day passed us by,

I’m glad it’s done,

yet,

I wish there were more.

What They Don’t See

They see me run.

But they don’t see the struggle,

fierce determination,

deep hurt,

raw pain,

rejection,

and anger unleashed.

Ten more minutes.

Why is it that the last ten are the hardest?

My breaths become deeper,

The pain is a reminder of what I’m fighting for.

Nine.

They don’t ask, so I don’t tell.

When they don’t know, all must be well.

Keep to myself, nobody gets hurt.

Eight.

I tried so hard,

A wanna be person.

Driven. Focused. Self sufficient.

Unimportant.

Seven.

No cheerleaders here.

Pressing on on my own,

Fighting my battles with tears.

Six.

Maybe if I try just one more time,

Would they see my soft heart?

Or despise my persistence.

See my deep longing?

Or loathe my existence.

Five.

Half over.

I heard of a man who knew all the Psalms,

So it became my mission to know them all.

Quote my verses some more.

I know ever so many, but no clue what for.

Four.

I paid all my bills not a second to late,

Gave all my tithes,

Opened my gates.

Three.

I forgave all my foes,

But they haunt me at night.

Why continue pursue me when I gave up the fight?

Two.

Learning a language.

But why bother, just to speak it alone?

Writing a book,

But if no one cares, what am I writing for?

One.

One more minute of striving for this,

Why do I bother?

Driven to conquer sadness,

Through sadness.

Done.

I’ve conquered this run.

I’ve won the struggle.

Left depression behind.

The next day to find.

Tomorrow I start it all over again.

Waiting for the day, my running can end.

The Road to the Cross

Heart full of pain, pack heavy as lead,

Not really alive, neither fully dead.

Wandering on to meaningless trails,

Endless darkness, walking the rails.

What am I here for?

Stumbling pain unto pain,

Life is a joke! Nothing to gain.

Flashes of visions: A man on a cross.

Why was he there? Never quite knew,

With all of my struggles, didn’t care to.

Why must everything bad happen to me?

How to avoid it, when one couldn’t see.

Darkness so thick you could choke on the black,

The load just increases upon my sore back.

Strength slowly dying, along with my soul,

Dreams become curses, crushing my goals.

Oh God, what’s the point? Are you even there?

Or am I just cursing into thin air?

If really existing, you’d make yourself known!

Why live anymore if I’m walking alone?

Night cold and hard, yet easier to breathe,

Darkness still felt, but thinner it seems.

I was told to follow my heart all along,

So why did this happen? Where did I go wrong?

Walking along the path that was shown,

Never thought I’d be stuck here, cast out and alone.

“Help!” The cry feels stuck in the air,

“Help me! Please! Much more I can’t bear!”

No sooner the words escape from my lips,

When the heavy pack drops from my grip.

In terror I struggle, I can’t let it go,

Turn back to grab hold, but notice a glow.

A dim light, so faint, didn’t see it before,

Grabbing my pack, I turn to see more.

Dawn peaks her head up from under the night,

I draw ever closer, so mysterious the light.

A loud sound hits the Earth, I hear it so near!

A gruesome sound that turns my stomach in fear,

A man groaning in pain, I rush to the sound,

Crying out loudly, for this man must be found!

The day steadily grows clearer and so does the cry,

Hurry to make it or this man will but die!

Then…there he is, hanging – Oh Lord! It can’t be!

A man cut up and bruised on a dark, blood-stained tree!

“Who did this?!?” I scream!

“How dare they?!?” I shout!

The evil that put this man here, it’s no lie,

The person who did this deserves to die!

Then the eyes of the man turn and look straight at me,

I can barely describe what it looks like to see,

Such innocent eyes, filled with love and pain,

Powerful eyes, but gentle the same.

How could there be such humility there,

Joined with authority in the same stare?

I look all around, searching who is to blame,

Justice would treat them exactly the same.

The man starts to speak, the Earth shakes with his words,

And I know that this Man is the Lord of all Lords!

“My Child, Understand, I was put here for you.”

Falling down on my knees, “Oh God, what did I do?”

Surely, I had nothing to do with this Man,

I had nothing to do with the iron piercing His hands.

Then my pack that I’m holding splits right into two,

And as the nails spill out, I see that it’s true.

The pack that I held, held the proof I was wrong,

The nails that I carried told the truth all along.

It was my very nails that held up the Son,

I could now only scream, “Oh, God! Look what I’ve done!!!”

But it was no use, for the Man’s life was gone.

Weeping and wailing, I fall to the ground,

My sobs carry for miles, a hopeless, lost sound.

Lowly before the cross I now lie,

Not to get up, for down here I will die.

Time standing still, the world holds its breath,

Then who comes forth – but the Man! Defeating his death!

Jaw open, limbs shaking…how can this be?

And my heart trembles greatly as He strides towards me.

Out in the open, nowhere to hide,

Exposed in my filth, dead to my pride.

I brace myself greatly and wait for the blow,

But to my surprise, the Man stoops down low.

He lifts my tear covered face in His hand;

The same voice that formed the sea and the land,

Speaks over me these three precious words, “I love you.”

Then says, “All that I wanted was that you would see,

What I really did for you on that old cursed tree.

And now you have done all that you need,

For in repentance and rest you will find that you’re freed!

It is finished, throw that old pack away!”

The Man stood there shining, brighter than day.

In death I died with Him, in His life I live still,

Now my heart cry becomes, not mine – but His will!

No longer a slave to the sins of my past,

I am saved by His blood, safe at home, free at last!

(A poem I wrote last Easter, previously titled “The Cross”)

Broken

How long will this heartache last?

Will I be broken in two forever?

I feel forgotten and worthless.

Yet here I stand.

Cold. Dark. Alone.

In vain some try to comfort me, to make me forget.

But can’t forget, I just mourn.

I mourn their loss forever.

Did no one value my friendship?

Did no one mourn the loss of me?

Life goes on as though I never existed.

They carry on without a glance in my direction.

What is love if it does not last?

What is friendship if it fades away?

Where is loyalty, can it still be found?

For though I reach out again and again,

None take my hand.

Though I call out in love,

There is no reply.

Just a cold, dark, silence,

Which speaks louder than words.

 

I Only Planted the Seeds

I only planted the seeds.

You tilled the ground and made it fine.

It was you who broke the hardened soil, and worked through each new line.

You added nutrition to the dust and fertilized the dirt,

Scraping every inch of earth, though your hands, they bled and hurt.

You sifted through rocks and plowed the weeds, under the beating sun.

Never once giving up or shutting your eyes, till the work was done.

I only planted the seeds.

How great I must’ve thought I was, far bigger than I am;

To think that I should be the one with the master plan.

For you caused the sun to shine its warmth, and the cool, wet rain to fall;

You kept the creatures and the bugs from devouring it all.

And yet I cried out: How unfair! I wanted to see it through!

After all my work in what I did, I never witnessed the fruit!

But really, I only planted the seed, it was never my job to watch it grow.

How hard to admit it’s up to you, harder still to let them go!

For that little seed was planted with care, with tears and with my heart!

How then could I step back and let it wither, couldn’t I play a bigger part?

“These things take time, my dear,” you spoke to me,

“Your job is done! Now let it be.”

Oh that I could see what came from my tiny, dead, old seeds! I may never really know.

For it was only my job to plant the seed, now it’s yours to make it grow.

The Strong Ones

There’s a sadness I feel today.

It’s the feeling that I get when I know people aren’t being honest with me and when I wonder what they’re really thinking or feeling. When the voices in the other room just make me feel more lonely, like a bruised up apple underneath a tree. Figures, they’d take my best and turn it into the worst. Like when I smiled and they thought I was fake. Or when I forgave and they thought it was the easy road.

There’s nothing strong or noble in holding a grudge. Whispers all around me, but don’t you dare speak the truth out loud, otherwise people might talk. They’re already taking, you know, if I share then at least they’ll be repeating the truth.

It’s a pity you didn’t come over. I wandered awkwardly around all week, trying to keep busy, trying to fill the void of emptiness you left, trying to pretend I was strong. But I’m not. I’m weak and hurt and broken, just like you. I wished with all my heart I could just give up. Yet these little hearts, they need me. Compassion makes me try to be strong, for them.

Am I doing anything right? Sometimes it feels like I just hurt everyone more by doing my best. Can’t they see my heart in all this? I’d like to think that they’re cheering for me, like I am for them. Like their on my side, as I’m on theirs. But honestly, I sometimes think they all just want to see me fail. Like, at least if they’d see me fail, they would be able to feel better about themselves. Little do they know how much I fail, how often.

I miss my best friend from grade ten, she understood my ramblings and rambled right back. We ran on the bails together and I tripped, and we laughed so hard we cried. If only we’d still be friends. Just like every other friend I’ve lost since her. I wish one of them would stick around.

Keep getting back up, I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep being the friend I wish someone would be to me. I’ll keep giving and pouring out for them all, because they need me to be strong. Yet sometimes when I’m by myself, I still break down and cry.

Because really, I’m not all that strong.

 

 

 

 

 

A Mother’s Poem

I wrote a poem the other day with the purpose to describe some of the thoughts and feelings that run deep within a mother’s heart.

I know that poems aren’t everyone’s thing, however, I strongly believe that certain emotions can not be fully expressed in an article format, but only caught in glimpses of time. So I used snapshots of everyday life in each stanza to help capture the full essence of what it is to be a Mother.

A Mothers Poem

Deepest dreams come true, the best moments of life! Tiny hands reaching, stroking, hugging; my heart is melting! Pulling, grabbing, pinching; okay, now leave me alone!

Panic sets in. Where is he? Have my worst fears come true? Am I the horrible mother they think I am? There, he sits outside playing safe and sound. One quick glance calms the fears but, for just one more moment.

Heart swelling, that’s MY little girl. Pretty, smart and strong. Where did that confidence come from, or those lovely full lips? But those deep blue eyes are all mine.

Sit down for a breath and work stacks up like Jenga blocks, just waiting to come crashing down on my head. Just one more moment, just another second. Outside, the kitten just lies still while the dog devours it, until I knock on the window and save the poor soul. I guess I got up.

That time you came and told me that my thighs jiggled when I ran and I laughed so hard with you, but when you left, I cried. They were once firm like yours.

Just over this wave, is another one really coming up so fast? Waiting for the calm in the storm. Another question I can’t answer, another job I won’t do. But no one else does it either, so I guess I will.

When I dumped a full bucket over you and the shock on your wet face made me laugh. Squealing, because you smiled with revenge. A small glimpse in time but forever burnt into my memory. See, Mommy can have fun too.

Am I in this alone? Sometimes. Me, and a billion others. On an island of kids. Make those smoke signals high, no one will come. Find help for yourself. If you have any idea where to start looking for it.

The girl sings softly as she wanders alone, two boys dig in the mud together, each with a stick, searching for some hidden treasures that are lost to the rest of the world. The littlest one lovingly pets that poor kitten the wrong way. And I take it all in like a breath of fresh air. The best day.

No! You ruined it! It can never be replaced! Your sticky hands, marking it forever with a piece of you. The regret isn’t the tiny fingerprints but the way your eyes dropped down when I yelled. I’m so sorry.

Is it the end of the day, or the beginning of the night? Really can’t tell anymore. What is sleep? The lights are on and off like a summer lightening storm, while the rest of the world sleeps in peace.

Peace. When the work is done, when they lie down still. Peace. When the nightmares fade and the light in the bathroom glows softly, just in case.

Sleep soft, sweet angels, Mama loves you with every aching breath.

Guilty as Charged

The Accuser paces in front of the room, he clears his throat, his opponent will now face his doom!

“Your Honour,” he begins his eloquent speech, “I’m here because the man sitting before you is guilty. I’ll prove it, it’s true! He’s unfit to live, if only you knew! His face shows his guilt, though his mouth’s full of lies, his thoughts are impure; his life you’d despise! Deep in his heart there are anger and malice within: He complains about work, so ungrateful he is! He talks behind backs, he even yells at his kids! He’s lazy and gluttonous, you can see by his size. He is greedy and hoards his wealth, just look at all he buys! He is full of deceit, and his motives are selfish within! I wonder if he has even one thought that’s not linked to sin. Yes, he does do some good, but clearly those motives are laced with pride, not humility, it’s just to keep people on his side! Even his good acts are filthy and grim! What else is there to say? He should be ripped apart, limb by limb!!!”

“Is this true?” asks the Judge, looking at the Accused. The old man’s eyes stare hard at the floor, never daring to lift, gives a slight nod and no more. He doesn’t dare say a word! His shoulders, they sag with the weight of  the world. His face full of pain, his soul sad and withdrawn. He stands before the judge, guilty as charged.

The Judge raises his gavel high up in the air, “I sentence this man to life put away. He’s hopeless, he’s lost…locked up he will stay…” But before the order is finished, a loud cry is heard!

“Please wait Your Honour! Let me say a word!”

The Judge looks up, surprised: “Who dares defend this man, after all he has done? You dare represent him…this dark, filthy one?”

A Man with Authority steps out from the back. As they see who he is, the people all gasp! Surely this man wouldn’t defend! He’s so highly respected, the Man coming forth, this Man – he was faultless! Set apart! Right from birth! The Man known as Defender, not a mistake to his name! Surely he shouldn’t take sides with this man put to shame.

The Defender slowly walks to the front and lovingly speaks, “This man,” he begins, “is not at all like you speak.”

Then he turns on the slideshow of the pieces He saw, the broken man weeping and reaching for God. The heart always soft to do what he was told, his hands helping the sick…he cared for the old! Slide after slide was shown of the man giving his wealth, when not a single soul saw, of him telling the truth, though it cost him his job! He showed the man blessing those who had cursed, he showed this man praying for those who had treated him the worst!

“But wait!” yelled the Accuser! “What about those things I have said, they can’t be denied! That old man’s good as dead!”

The Defender spoke up, “You know they are true as well as I, but you also know well for those sins I have died! I paid for them fully, how dare you bring up those moments again! My blood was poured out, I made him new right there and THEN! This new man you see, is not who you accused. This poor man, he is mine and he must be let loose!”

The Judge thoughtfully nodded, then softly he spoke: “Then the price has been paid, let him go. Set him free!”

The old man, once accused jumped up, shouting with glee! For he deserved death, but the Defender paid the fee!