Soul-Expanding

The Blip 

By: the iHope Poet

When the big things are little 

and the little feel big, 

when the waves of sheer longing 

make your heart feel like lead,

and you don't have a reason 

to be stuck in your head;

but you  do, and you are 

since you're lost in The Blip.                                                     

It was just a few moments 

in the grand scheme of things,

and it ended so quickly, 

so it's hard to believe 

that it happened at all, 

but you know how you feel. 

And it doesn't feel good 

to be lost in The Blip. 

You don't blink for the fear 

that you'll lose all the proof 

of the challenge you're facing, 

the pain you've lived through. 

It consumes you, it changed you,

short-lived though it was, 

and you cling with your might

to hold onto The Blip. 

In due time, you remember 

there is rest to reclaim 

through the grace of the One 

who has suffered the same. 

Then, embraced in His love, 

filled with pure, refined joy,

your whole soul is expanded 

coming out of The Blip. 

     

         Lovetta Reyes Cairo Art via 

Somehow Full

Broken Open
By: the iHope Poet

I'm raw today
& open.
I'm not afraid to cry.
My heart is broke,
but full of hope,
& turned towards
the sky.

You Chose the Sky

The Last Kiss

By: the iHope Poet

Something pressed against my lips, 

I think it was your final kiss. 

A finger traced my aching heart -

all thoughts coherent grew amiss. 

Something pulled me close to you, 

I think it was that fear I knew. 

My locks were rattled, cages sprung, 

And as you turned, you proved me true. 

Some perfection held me still - 

I won't forget my dying will, 

to make you stay inside my arms

- and for a moment I was filled. 

Something told me not to cry, 

and I refrained as we goodbyed. 

But endless were the tears that fell, 

as soon as you took to the sky. 

Something lingered on my lips, 

You knew it was our final kiss. 

But you will never feel the pain 

of losing such a love as this. 

via

Never coming back.

You Loved this Lover
By: the iHope Poet

Moments pass when longing leaves me
aching at the door.
And I start feeling empty from
the pain of years before.
I sometimes feel abandoned, lost,
imperfect in my fears.
But then I am reminded
of the reasons for my tears.

You kissed these lips, you held these hands,
you loved this lover, once.
And though you're never coming back,
my heart's forever touched.

via

We May Summon Angels

Closed Wounds and Healing

By: the iHope Poet

I cried as if she was dead. 

But my sister has not died,
 she lives. 

She stands with her heart on her sleeve, 

breathing and anxious. 

We do not have a funeral on our hands, 

we have a life. 

Hers is an opportunity to love

and care for, and support. 

Hers is a heart to hold and to cherish. 

And we may summon angels 

for this precious, beating cause 

we cling to --

Because she does not need revival, 

only closed wounds and healing. 

Even so, Christ can bring back the dead. 

via

On a lonely night

On Blood Moons and Kisses
By: the iHope Poet

It's a blood moon tonight;

via

there's smoke in the air --
that's clouding my senses,
and I used to care, but
It's a blood moon tonight,
so I don't.

It's raining tomorrow;
the birds have all flown --
they have left me behind
and, though I used to mind,
It's raining tomorrow,
so I don't.

You kissed me goodbye
without even a tear.
And I cried and I cried,
and I clung to my fears, but
You kissed me goodbye.

So I won't.

it gets dark here

Turn on the light?
By: the iHope Poet

healing hurts.
   it itches, it stings
it burns.

it touches.

via

   it lifts, it sees,
it turns.

but somehow the light
   is too bright
in the day.

it's hard to be open
   when darkness
can stay.

healing refreshes,
   it cleans
and renews.

the pain can do wonders,
   or not.
you must choose.

Hospital Gowns . . . and one fallen leaf.

The Waiting Room Outside.
By: the iHope Poet

You wouldn't think to marvel at the beauty of pain.
But I do.
You probably wouldn't notice the few leaves (this time of year) blowing
through the wind on the ground; rustling against the pavement -- the echo of death
mockingly grating against a sacred silence.
But I did.
I couldn't just sit there and hear talk of still-breath and funeral plans when,
just inside, just a left turn down the hall and through a door,
laying on a bed with the t.v. flashing and muted, she's there.
She, with all the blood and the tubes and the wilted skin,
and the monitors that always find a reason to beep! 
She, with the metal Christmas tree, in the middle of June, upon which hangs prescription ornaments dangling in clear plastic bags, with all these labels that mean nothing to me,
and yet, mean the difference between her life and death --
She's there.

And breathing.
Not a limp leaf, scrambling across the grounds as the wind teases its hopelessness.
Not a body just yet, but a spirit. A soul. Grasping for help as she struggles with the pain and the fear.
It isn't easy, fighting pain. But harder still is having the courage to fight the fear of pain.
She has that courage.
The courage to say a prayer, over and over, to be comforted when it would be easier
to panic and give in.
And she does not.

For the beauty of the pain she grapples with;
for the time she spends conquering her fears --
and all of ours.
For the beauty of that dead leaf, on the ground;
God only knows how long it struggled on the branches, before
the wind overcame its strength.

via

to bleed or to scar

Seared
By: the iHope Poet

it's a brutal pain; the one that reminds you of what you've become.
Or rather, what you once were before you were seared
with the scar.
And the pain, like a cleanser, eliminates all fear;
putting in place of your doubts, only knowledge, only growth.
it's brutal because it is deep.
it's cleansing because it is pure.
it's important
because this is you.

And you have been seared to the core.

me

what a surprise.

Round Two
By: the iHope Poet

Round one, you think you know what's up
you think you've got it down.
And right before you get to rest,
the water starts to drown.
Round one, the sky is crushing life,
and you are dropping fast.
Then just in time before you lose,
you catch a firmer grasp.
Round one, the world spins right again,
and things fall back in place.
And you can understand your job
enough to keep the pace.

Cuz Round one, you knew what was up,
you made it for the cue.
But wait to close your eyes just yet,
for now what's next?
Round Two.

via

Stumble and Fall

via

Blow
by: the iHope Poet

Walking on your shadow,
Tripping over ash.
Waiting for those thunder clouds
to Blow away the past.

New year

How to Use (Paints and Paper)
by: the iHope Poet

it's new. it's bright. it's better
maybe.
unused, untouched.
like paints, waiting to be brushed
against a paper.
but that paper, and
those paints
can only be new
for that time during which we contemplate
what color to use and
how to use it.
and the paints are worn thereafter.

via

It's Autumn Time . . .

Thirsty

By: the iHope Poet

Orange, orange, everywhere. Orange in the blaze of the October sun on my skin, in the striking shade of the fat pumpkin at my side. Orange in the rich folds of the flower petals and the dry crunch of the leaves on the ground.

All around, I see the fire.

The flames of late fall are as brilliant as ever, defined by their distinct colors (of golds, burgundies, indigos and emeralds) and crisp breath; as their cold heat burns away the old news of spring and summer.

While the earth succumbs to the wild dance of Autumn, the cerulean sky watches curiously from above; and the wind tickles it’s unperturbed surface, arousing a keen sense of longing to take part in this marvelous shift of nature. And yet, far aloft, the limits of the ragged blue atmosphere remain, barren of all clouds, which were mercilessly scorched away in the slicing heat of the harvest day.

And so, the exhausted heavens thirst. Not as the flowers do for subtle showers from white, billowy tendrils of cloud. But for the rumbling blacks and grays and ashen haze to come rolling in, and relieve that tension of unfulfilled change in the air; to shock those final traces of life out of the mountains, the trees, and the thin, coarse dirt.

Yes, the sky dreams; it yearns to settle the chills and the sleep, and regrets of lost time, deep into the soil where the roots of all things lie raw and wilted; simply by making it rain.

I'll Miss You

tomorrow
By: the iHope Poet

tomorrow you'll be gone
please, remember why you're leaving,
don't forget that you are serving,
don't forget you're purpose, there.

via

tomorrow I won't see you
and I'll wish that you were here,
but I'll keep in mind you're mission,
that you're out to persevere.

tomorrow I will miss you
and my heart will break in two,
so be careful, and successful --
you can change, but please, stay true!

tomorrow you won't be here
but I know you have to go.
I just hope you won't forget me
when the world becomes your home.

hm . . .

I thought I was through

But my heart just skipped a beat

When I saw you there

    .

Change: the great metaphor of replacement

Swept Up (before you know it)

By: the iHope Poet

The mind-blowing concept of change

is how it sweeps you off your feet

when you least expect it to

You are floored 

as you land, 

achingly realizing all that you left behind

without so much as a wave

good-bye

To the hope of prolonging

good bye to your blown away past

Look up
to the new skies and sunshine, 

remember, at least, 

that space in your heart 

Change will use it, time and again, 

to ensure 

that your heart will never "long-for" long

Never filled nor empty 

completely. 

via

It's Time

Dropped Off

By: the iHope Poet

Let go of.

That's what I am

And will be always.

Dropped on the steps

of my own front porch,

Left in the streets

that only lead one direction: Away. 

And I cannot stay. 

Life is meant to be traveled,

So I'll continue forward.

And though it's hard to not look back, 

I mustn't. Ever, or I'll cry 

and lose my focus on where I need to be. 

And the farther I go,

the less I stop, 

and the shorter I rest, 

So, the easier it is

for me to be

Let go. 

via

And Letting Go

By: the iHope Poet

Saying goodbye

May or may not be as easy

As it seems at times.

The load is so heavy

And relief is the key

To move on.

Sometimes I think

That holding on makes me so strong

And I'm wrong.

Releasing the care

May be the way to learn

how to fly.

True, I must leave,

and maybe they'll miss me

Like I will miss them...

But whether or not;

My fingers are slipping,

As I reach the end.

it changed me

Never the Same

By: the iHope Poet

we had a chance to let it go,

there was a moment to move on --

and after all the pain we've seen,

all the wrong things that we've been

-- perhaps the hope has come and gone

perhaps, we did just let it go. 

the sky was black, as were our hearts, 

our innocence became no more --

but we stood fast, and tried to see

the paths that led to victory 

-- and though we had to fight the war,

at least we know, it changed our hearts. 

today we live with wounds and scars,

and yes, our past is dark and bleak.

we had a chance to walk away,

yet now we stand and here we stay. 

the blackness that would make us weak, 

is lost beneath our withered scars

sometimes, the things we cannot change

will end up changing us instead;
so, now our souls are firm and strong
we are the roots of change, life-long;
and we're still shifting, thread by thread.
No, we will never be the same. 

via

That Weightless Sense of Rising Fear

Known
By: the iHope Poet

I do not cry
because I feel unknown.
I cry
because I am known,
and yet, so entirely misunderstood.
I cry
because I am so loved,
and yet, cannot come to terms
with all that I feel.

I cry
because I'm so selfish
and can give nothing back - at least, not nearly what I
feel would be an adequate price to pay in return.

I cry
because change has bound me and sculpted my life,
my identity;
and I cannot know if I am now grateful or sorrowful
for either what I see ahead, or
what I am leaving behind.

I cry
because the shadows lurk;
worse! they leer at me in their dark territory of doubt.
I cry
because I understand that although those corners provide
a familiar space to brood,
I will not permit myself to dwell near them.

I cry
because the light and darkness in me are
contradicting forces, which may ever exist
but never coexist.

I cry.
Not because I have much to learn
but because I know so much;
and I fear that pride will overcome my faith.

I cry
because I am told not to fear
but to walk with assurance that I am loved, no matter what.
And I know I am loved.
I know that I am somehow significant in this vast world.

I cry,
because I am. Known.

In the distance

I Rise

By: the iHope Poet

Today I'm not myself

I'm scared that I might fall

You think you know my heart

You've broken down the wall

I think I might just die

But still, I'll stay and fight

And when you see me run, 

That's when you'll know, I'll rise

Today, I've changed myself

I've torn through all the lies

You thought you knew my heart

Yet I am new, I rise

Picture: Maren Smith