by Keri L
Open you heart, let me in. We can start all over, you can live the life you deserve – one that is full of love and joy, of peace and strength. Please, just let me in. Let me take away the pain, let me heal every hurt you’ve hidden, the ones you can barely think about because they hurt you so much. Let me take away the unjust shame, the guilt, the hate, the tears. Please, just let me love you. That’s all I want to do. I just want to love you.
Will you let me?
– God.
Songs to listen to.
Live Like You’re Loved – Hawk Nelson
Drops in the Ocean - Hawk Nelson
People Like Me – Mikeschair
Someone Worth Dying For – Mikeschair
Love Ran Red – Chris Tomlin
Louisiana Boy
Tanned skin, white smile
Sun-bleached hair and Sunday bonfires
Crawfish boils and lobster tails
‘Pull up a seat’ means that 5-gallon pail
Words spoken like a flow of honey
Sweet and slow, out in the country
Ripped jeans and an LSU cap
A sparkling smile like a mischievous cat
‘Gator talk and Spanish Moss
If you don’t like it down here, that’s your loss
Southern style and Southern grace
A single thought of him makes my pulse race
My heart’s been stolen by a New Orleans boy
With Bayou green eyes I just can’t ignore
Louisiana boy, you’re my wish come true
Louisiana boy, you’ve got me singing the blues
Louisiana boy, I’m yours if you’ll be mine
A life spent together would be mighty fine
Louisiana boy, I’m yours… I’m yours!
Louisiana boy… Louisiana boy…
I wrote this a while back after reflecting on my mom’s roots in southern Louisiana. I’ve been there several times, and while I’m not a fan of the oppressive heat, hurricanes, or venomous things, I do love the mystery of it all. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a tree covered in Spanish Moss, or had a southern crawfish boil, or eaten alligator meat. This poem is my roots coming out, and I hope you enjoyed it and discovered a hankering for the South.
Seasons
1. To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3. A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to
build up;
4. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5. A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6. A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7. A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8. A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, kjv)
I believe that we are all familiar with the passage from Ecclesiastes that talks about the seasons of life. You’ve probably heard it at either a wedding, a funeral, a baby dedication… Even if you are not a believer, you know that these words are true, because they are echoed everywhere, in every aspect of life. They are words of wisdom, words of truth, and many people, myself included, have sought comfort from them.
Just like with the four seasons that follow each other year after year, there are seasons that are in our personal lives. There is a time for birth, a time for death, a time of being a child, and a time of growing up. Our lives are made up seasons, and it is very important that we don’t forget that, which is an easy thing to do when you are in your season of mourning, or your season of loss. Winter isn’t really that long of a season, but because it is cold, cloudy, and altogether a least favorite time for many people, it feels longer than it actually is. Our personal seasons are the same. It may feel like you’ve been trapped in a season of pain forever, but just like with the earth, spring has to follow winter. Winter cannot last forever, (we aren’t living in Narnia!) and neither can your season of struggle. Spring will come in its time, when the earth – when your heart – is ready.
Look on your life as you would a garden. In the spring, you have to till it, you have to fill it with nutrients, and then you plant. It is at this point that you wait. Just like you sow your seeds in life, there is a waiting period, a season of patience. In the summer, you have to water those little plants, weed out the things that desire to strangle them, battle bugs, heat, too much rain, not enough rain, and a whole list of things. And as you fight these things, as you care for your plants, they grow, they flourish, and they begin to offer up little fruits. The longer you care for them, the bigger the fruits, the bigger the reward.
This is life. If you are feeling stuck, like you aren’t going anywhere, even though you’ve planted your seeds, you’ve moved to a different place, you’ve applied for a different job, it is because you are in your season of waiting. At this point, you are checking your crops every day, seeing if a pod has broken the surface of the soil, and when you see nothing, you feel like you never will. For me, the season of waiting is the hardest, but just like summer follows spring, so shall your time of growing follow your time of sowing.
If you’re struggling, it’s because you are in your season of weeding, watering, nurturing, and learning. You’re exhausted and sore from constantly plucking up weeds of doubt, fear, anger, and pain. Your hands are blistered from hauling a watering can around as you remind yourself of why you started this journey in the first place, as you repeat to yourself the dream you’ve had for so long. But this too, shall pass. A time of harvest will follow your time of labor. You will reap what you have sown, you will reap the benefits of your labor. Your basket will be full of the fruit of joy that was sown with a hopeful heart and watered with tears of frustration. That book you planted will not come to naught, if you keep nurturing it. That form you filled out to adopt a child will not come back void if you weed, hoe, water, and nurture, and sometimes, to accomplish all of those things, you must do only one thing; believe. Your season of harvest is coming.
You cannot give up. To give up would be to lock the garden gate and walk away, to stop watering, stop weeding, stop picking bugs off the plants. You cannot give up because there is still hope, there is still life, there is still a harvest coming, even if you can’t see it. Everything has a season, everything will change, that is simply the way of life. Winter cannot, will not last forever, nor will the time of waiting, or the time of growing. Everything moves together in ways we can’t understand, but the end result is something so beautiful, so perfect, that it’s worth it.
Farther down in the chapter, in verse 11, it says that “He has made every thing beautiful in his time.” EVERYTHING. Not just one thing, but everything. Winter will melt its way into a glorious spring that is full of promise, hope, and new beginnings, spring will turn into summer, which is overflowing with knowledge, lessons, strength, and courage. Summer will fade into a fiery fall, full of rich rewards, full of fulfilled promises, full of dreams that are now reality, and fall will change to winter, which is a time to rest. To each and everything there is a season, a purpose, and even if we don’t understand, we need to trust. We need to trust that everything will unfold and be what it is meant to be in its time.
Every season is beautiful in its own way, and even though it might be hard to believe, there is joy in every season as well. Each one serves a purpose, and if we skipped over it, everything would fall apart. We have to have winter in order to experience spring, and so on and so forth. We have to have pain to know joy, we have to know what it is to wait in order to experience fulfillment. There can be no light without shadows, no laughter without tears. It all comes together, the good and the bad, to give an end result so beauti
ful, so glorious, and so completely worth it.
I’m writing this to speak to someone, to give you a message of courage. Your time of harvest of coming. I encourage you to keep holding on, to keep checking your crops, to keep planting. Don’t stop weeding, don’t stop watering, don’t stop believing. Your time of harvest is coming, and it is arriving sooner than you think, just as the fall can come overnight. Will you be ready for the overflow of goodness? Gather your baskets, as many as you can, because you’re going to need them.
Moment
I saw you there, looking through the crowd
Your dark eyes wandered, searching, seeking
They flitted over faces but never lingered too long
As if you knew what it was that you sought
But you weren’t sure where it’d be found~
I watched you, studied you, mesmerized, intrigued
The faces around me melted into a blur
And I felt my breath begin to catch~
Your eyes swung to me, but they didn’t move away
They stayed, remained, focused on mine
And the roar of the crowd faded into silence~
Our eyes met, caught, and I couldn’t look down
I felt my heart begin to stutter, to stop, to pound
At the look that filled your eyes as your expression froze
Searching, yearning, longing for something
Seeking, finding, becoming as one~
An exact match, your eyes a reflection of mine
It was as if you saw me for everything I was
You saw past my facade and saw the real me
Saw who I was, who I’d been, and who I’m meant to be
You saw through the appearance I wore to please everyone
You saw the passion that boiled, but never escaped~
Your gaze beckoned to me, it whispered a secret
Wished me to come closer, to stop trying to hide
And in that moment I felt-I felt complete
Like I’d finally come home, I finally belonged
Then you looked away, and the moment was gone~
I know you won’t remember me
I know you’ll never recall that moment
A moment that wasn’t one of romanticism or lust
But a moment of something so much more
But we’ll never know, we’ll never meet
I just wish you knew that moment
Is a moment I’ll forever keep
I wrote this rather romantic poem after meeting the gaze of a man across a crowd of hundreds of people. I didn’t know him, never will, and probably will never see him again. However, we did share a brief moment when our eyes met, and it was like we knew each from a long time ago, like when you meet a friend you haven’t seen in years. I pondered on this incident for a long time, and finally came to the conclusion that he was a kindred spirit, someone who’s soul was a lot like mine. I’m not the first person this happened to, and I’ve been assured this won’t be the only time this will happen to me.
Facade
If I told you I wasn’t okay
Would you stop and listen to my tale of pain?
Would you hold me tight?
Tell me everything’s gonna be alright?
Or would you roll your eyes and say –
“You’re being so dramatic
Life isn’t that bad
Stop being a whiner
Stop pretending to be sad!”
But what if I told you I hurt
That I feel so alone?
Would you hold me while I cry
Or answer me with an annoyed sigh?
If I told you I’m made fun of simply for the way I look
That I hear every behind-the-hand insult that I’m too skinny
That every whispered joke saying I’m fat is a scream to my ears
Tell me this, would you hold me then?
What would you do if I told you I spend hours crying
Because I believe the lies that I’m horribly ugly?
I mean, that’s all I ever hear, every day and night
So, it’s gotta be true, right?
I spend my nights awake, staring at the wall
Nobody to hang out with, no parties to attend
Because after all, who would want to be friends with me?
Like everyone puts it, I’m just a freak
I hate what I see when I look in the mirror
A laugh that’s too loud, and too many freckles
The wrong kind of skin
Though I wear different colors
I do my utmost best to never speak
Because everyone will be sure to laugh
When I stutter on my words
When I lisp in class
If I tore down the walls, every single one I’ve built
Showed you my heart, showed you all of me
Showed you the pain, the festering red wounds
Revealed all my scars, and a soul so bruised
Let you see the rot that’s set on my spirit
So that you understand every joke is just another bullet
Would you believe me then?
Would you understand the torture I’m in?
I can’t go on alone, and I’m tired of myself
I’m too weak to fight
Will you fight for me, even if it’s just for tonight?
It hurts so bad
That I’m starting to let go
Will someone please help me?
Will you be my hero?
This poem is for everyone who has or is being bullied. Bullying is a horrible thing, and its effects last for years. If you are being bullied, please, seek help. Don’t be afraid, there really are people who want to help you. And if the person you approach won’t help, tell someone else. Keep telling people until you get help. You don’t have to do this alone.
If you are self-harming, feeling suicidal, or you simply need someone to talk to, please call or text one of the following numbers. These hotlines are 24/7, free and confidential.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline- 1-800-273-8255
I’M ALIVE – 1-800-784-2433
For texting, text ‘CONNECT’ to 741741
If you’d like to chat online, or you’d like to learn more about these sites and suicide prevention, go to https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ and hopeline.com. Remember, you are not alone, and whether you call, text, or talk online, it is completely free and confidential.
If you are in a situation where someone is attempting suicide, call 911.
And if you would like to know more about helping put a stop to online bullying, go to the I Am A Witness site iwitnessbullying.org
Help is here. Take it.
In honor of everyone who has been a victim of bullying, and for those who took their own lives. We love you.
Stop the Cycle
I’m someone you know
I’m someone you love
I’m someone you’d never suspect
I’m someone in everybody’s life
You’d never guess it was me
You don’t have a clue of my shame
My secret is so big, and so very easy to see
But you turn away, refusing to acknowledge my pain
I’ve reached out for help so desperately
I whisper the truth, but I’m told it’s a lie
Because no one believes that person would do that to me
My tears are like rain, drowning my soul
My cry goes unanswered, an echo of fear
Trapped in this endless cycle, is there no way out?
There’s a monster in my life, but you’ve bound my hands
I just want to be free, but you won’t let me fight
And maybe I’m more than just someone you know
Maybe I’m someone who is much, much closer
And maybe, just maybe, when you look in the mirror
It’s my pleading eyes that stare back at y
ou
Another difficult poem to write, but also a favorite, a poem speaking for those who can’t speak for themselves. Look around you, pain is everywhere. We can stop it, we can stand up to the abuse that is going on in our world. Say something, say it now, say it loud. The true definition of a man (and a woman) is to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.
Untitled Poem
I can build a wall
I can break a heart
I can start a fire
Or I can put it out
I can give you strength
But I can also make you weak
I can bring a smile to your lips
But just as quickly, I can flood your eyes with tears
I am misused more than anything else
I have the power to crush a soul
The brutality to shatter a dream
I can start a war with ease
And no one will ever believe that it was me
I’m so small, completely innocent to your eyes
Can’t you see the power in me?
I can heal a wounded spirit
I can mend a relationship full of hurt
I can be the start of something good
Or I can be what ends it all
I can love, I can laugh, I can bring hope
I can hate, I can scream, I can bring pain
I can create, I can nurture, I can bring life
I can destroy, I can weaken, I can bring death
I’m right here beside you, everyday
My name is Words…
How are you going to use me?
This poem (which I couldn’t title because I can’t think of one that won’t give it away, if you can, please tell me) was inspired by the simplest of things; hearing a five-year-old say some not very nice things, and it made me realize just how powerful words really are. As it says in the book of James, ‘… life and death are in the tongue…’ or, as my former pastor liked to say, ‘your tongue is the little red devil behind the pearly gates.’ Words hold more power than we understand, so think long and hard before you speak.
