april 2 and 3

the light fades
from your eyes
i can see childhood
ebbing away from your soul
but don’t let go
cling tight
cling tight
cling tight
for the love you have now
is lifeblood
in an otherwise
dreary world
-dedh // april 2, 2017

 

you told me i was worthy
of all the love in the world
you told me i deserved the sky
you told me to follow my heart
for surely my heart knows best
you told me i had all i needed inside me
you lied to me

i’m a mess
some say i shouldn’t say that
but it’s my truth
i’m a mess
and if i’m not
i should be
i’m not a perfect picture of happiness
but a snapshot of depravity
i’m a failure
i’m unworthy
i’m ugly
i’m useless
i’m nothing

until Him

when Light touched my life
oh, how things changed

when weakness drew me to Him
He reached down and gave me strength
to stand again
when i lay before Him
worthless and pointless
He gave grace and love and
stretched out His hand to me
when i say i am a mess
it’s because without Him
i’m a mess
and i need Someone to clean me up
I’m a mess
and i can rejoice because if i wasn’t
tangled and broken
there wouldn’t be any reason
to need Him.
-dedh // april 3

it’s national poetry month so i’m writing 30 poems and here is the first one… which i should have posted a few days ago

sleep calls again
the numbness
of dying to it all
is growing once more
my eyes close
i try in vain
to stay awake
every breath i take
is slow and weak
the world is tugging me
to sleep
to rest
to drift without a thought

to wander

aimlessly

and i follow

numbly

but i hear
a voice
a strong, calm voice
calling out to me

my eyelids stir
my mind turns again
i shake my sleeping limbs
and
hands lift me
from the realm of dreams

“please don’t let me
fall asleep,”
i whisper to Him. 

 

-dedh // April 1, 2017

an afternoon in five poems

smoke from the ground

echoes in the sky

austere wisps shroud the sun

and love burns away

like the world we know.

tall boots cradle calves

and ties encase necks

but we are falling apart at the seams.

minstrels’ voices fade

anxiety sets in

is hope lost like childhood

memories in the mind of a grown up?

pestered by a need for more

we’re never content

until we’ve lost it all.

 

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it’s an old house

over grown in vines and folly

try not to get lost

wind your way through

forgotten gardens

until you find the door.

footsteps

raise the dust

and it clings to the tip of your boot

don’t stop to brush it

away

but keep on searching

until you are

home.

 

******

 

don’t loom over me like that

your shadow makes me

nervous

like before I step

on stage

sit down

have tea

I don’t care for silence

 

******

 

twist and turn

curves of millions

a dance between two souls

take me away

and twist and turn

with the highway song.

trees looming overhead

like friendly giants

shadow the way.

follow the light

past the woods

eventually.

 

******

 

people aren’t mediocre

that’s impossible

everything they touch

leaves a mark

that’s a skill not many posses

and it’s inherent

in humanity

when a human

takes a breath

power and grace are exhaled

and oxygen inhaled.

humans are made

to change the world.

 

 

 

pain // hope

there was pain
that refused to leave
me alone.
it clung to my back
between my shoulder blades
and it aches
and bleeds
and hurts.
there was hope
that resisted
evacuation
and still it hides,
trembling,
in my rib cage
beside my heart
and it loves
and loves
and loves.

 

03. 24. 16

by dill

w a n d e r l u s t // 1616

hey there! this is a short literature assignment, which was to write a response to an excerpt of John Smith’s A Description of New England.

I’d love your feedback on it, and I could turn into a longer story, if anyone would like me to. 🙂

It is from the viewpoint of Isabelle Wiltshire,  an 18 year old young woman living in England.

“As a young person, reading Sir John Smith’s account of his journey stirs in my heart an ache, to go, to travel, to see this ‘New World’ in the light he has painted it.
He speaks of a charge laid on us to further the knowledge of our God. How long have I desired this very thing? If I went to the New World, this new country of ours, would I be of more use there than I am here? Is there a place for a young unmarried woman with no experience of the world? Could my life better put to use there?
I care not for myself to be taken care of, nor for my own safety, but if I have children, perhaps disease would be easier to battle on that coast. Perhaps they could make a name for themselves there, as not many people can here in Mother England. Perhaps raised in a wilder place, they would be stronger, able to work harder, with improved minds accustomed to difficulty.
And then there is the matter of savages. Some say danger, I say opportunity. It may be that my Lord is commanding me to go. Perhaps He has called me to follow others to a wild land, paradise, to bring those natives to His heart.
Schools will be planted, churches organised, and we may bring those Indians to our Lord. Really, if even one came to Him, my going would be entirely worthwhile.
One soul is worth any danger.
If I went, would I set myself apart as I am longing to do? The middle daughter of a clergyman has nothing to her name, and not any dowry to speak of. Anything I can do, my sisters have already done.
Except this.
I am going to the New World.”