I wish I could count the number of times I’ve been told my husband and I are the perfect couple. And then I wish I could give each of you a snapshot into our life when we are so angry and hurt at one another that we can barely form words, seething at the mouth like two dogs ready to attack.
We have a beautiful story — like something out of a movie or a fairytale, only after twenty years, I quit sharing it because I quit believing it.
We met one another on a missionary team based in my home state, Iowa. It was supposed to be a team of only Irish youth, but this particular year the director was only able to sign on two people from Ireland so he opened up the year long position to people from Iowa. …
Steph’s winning poem on the topic: HEARTACHE
No escaping me, I’m dying — inside
it’s like a thousand sighing
beasts are clawing, gnawing teeth
sanity, it fades beneath the constant
wail of silent lies, chalkboard nails
and screeching cries disguised
as wreckage, no repair —
ache upon heartache,
The music played aloud
For the massive crowd
Gathered to celebrate
And duly commemorate
A change of the old guard
With remorse and sombre regard
In remembrance of a past monarch
A passing of a royal matriarch
Then the ascendance of the heir
With a Kings coronation they do bare
Nothing lives forever. And while we are aware of this, many of us still live as if we are granted tomorrow. We allow words to go unspoken. We bury hopes and dreams in the coffin of someday and use excuses to stifle the nudging of our soul. But if you stop and take a moment to quiet the noise and remove yourself from the busyness of life, what is important? What do you desire?
As I lay in bed last night, quietly meditating, my soul spoke to my heart.
The time is now, it whispered.
We live in a world of “right now” and “instant gratification.” Yet, paradoxically, due to these standards, we often delay the truly important things in order to keep up with the day-to-day of what it takes to survive in a world based upon obtaining things. …
There’s no sugar coating it — it sucks, plain and simple.
There is nothing like putting myself out there and being rejected. Whether it’s confessing my feelings to someone I secretly fancy or submitting a resume for a job, putting myself out there takes vulnerability, courage, and risk.
And no matter how much I prepare myself for a negative response, it doesn’t take away the sting when it actually happens. Call me crazy but there’s always that hopeful side of me that thinks that I’ll be the exception to the rule.
Turns out… I’m not the exception to the rule (insert tragic laughter here). And chances are, if you are reading this, that you aren’t either. …
My body, a canvas of skin wrapped over sinew, muscles, and cells.
Aging — I am aging.
Scars tell tales of pregnancies lost, pre-cancerous biopsies, and control over my body, of one child too many.
This canvas reveals minute details, uniquely me, constellation beauty marks, and auto immune disease injection sites.
Where once adorned perfectly braided plaits — strands of three, symbolic of me, of individuality encased by conformity and society. Now escapes
Untamed curly locks a
reflection of the lioness within.
A canvas that stretches with my growth physically and spiritually.
From field mouse to fierce; I hunt in the chaffs of wheat I once hid in.
Passion paints my lips, inspiration drips from my brow, as brush strokes redefine who I once was. I strip myself down to nakedness to express sacredness within. An open book, I am,
embracing my sexuality
that needs not explained, nor approved by the watcher outside of me. …
Remember the fires?
the California wildfires
the fires in the Amazon?
all an indication
of a burning Universe
at the verge of extinction
For as long as I can remember, I have been a dreamer. Frozen puddles became my ice-skating rink, a rickety swing set — my Olympic equipment, trails cut through woods — my escape to Narnia. As a child, the beautiful part about being able to dream was that it was free.
Unlike my reality, my dreams didn’t segregate me due to my socio-economic status. They didn’t tell me I didn’t have enough experience. And when I was in the moment, other people’s criticism was non-existent.
But something happened as I grew.
Where once stood a fearless girl who tamed lions and performed death-defying stunts in her imaginary circus, now cowered a constricted chameleon who did anything to stay out of view for fear of criticism, chastisement, and rejection. …
Adrienne Nugent’s Winning Poem For The Topic: Lost
Blood and tears
was my mistress
but at what cost
About the author: Adrienne is a talented mother and wife who is smashing through mental health stigmas with emotionally-charged poetry. You can follow her on Twitter here and find more of her work here.
“Do not go quietly into that dark night,” the dawn whispers, as I seek asylum.
Not to you, but for you…
The words hang above me with reverence as I draw them to my heart with peace. The answers that I seek lie scattered in the unknown, just outside my grasp. Humbled am I in this place.
With thanksgiving, I bow my head to the element of control for I know not what lies ahead. All I know is that what was, is no longer, and what is, is. And what is to come, may never be.
All these things happen for me, not to me. …