"Father"

This Poem first appeared on Altarwork 

The picture of Father dropping seeds, feeding things, the sound of the creaking, unoiled gate at the bottom of the garden. The sinking feeling of not knowing how to come home, but the shining light that illuminates His face. These images are a part of me. I see this poem so clearly, having entered that gate 15 years ago, I'm just caught up by His face. And the Love that's never changing from His Heart, I needed to share this poem right here... 

 Father. Framed in black and white, ​
your smile captures the light on a broken window pane.​
Framed.​
Father. Bag in hand, other hand open. Lifted high.​
Seeds for others to eat, light – laced seed, ​
feeding the world’s forgotten things.​
Feed. ​
Father. There is a gate at the opposite end of the yard, it is open.​
Is there space for me to slip in?​
Father.​
Let’s talk over by the body of water that resembles a pool.​
Draw near. Our faces wrinkled in the water’s gaze.​
We look the same.​
Our reflection in water’s grace, smile at the sameness of our eyes.​
Face.​
Father. Framed by light. Squint my eyes and you fade into the dark shadows.​
Correct my sight and you fill the scene.​
Bathed in the fires flame. ​
You.​
Hands open Wide.​
I enter the gate at the bottom of the yard. Tired.​
You hear the steel, it’s different from most who enter.​
Smile. You turn, it’s me. I’m home.​
Here, embraced.​
Forget all else, you turn because it’s me. ​
Your eyes filled with my broken need.​
Father.​
I’m coming home to you.​

You Turn because it's Me, Father

Father. What a special gift to know that we are Loved by Father. Yet, not everyone starts off knowing a father's love and when the wounds of fatherlessness are present, it takes the journey of Perfect Love to heal it. Father, the journey, the reality, the depth and the messages, it's all part of what I have and continue to write. This week I am over by Altarwork, sharing my poem entitled Father. I pray it blesses and speaks to you and maybe you want to send it on to someone who needs to know Father's gate is always open for them to come home!

Altarwork - Father Poem 

MeaningFull Poetry Week - Christina's Heart

Day 5! Truth be told - our poetry week is not running in chronological order, life has happened in between but! We are still doing it and I cannot believe how inspired we all have been feeling after reading "heart words" on these pages. This afternoon I want to share the words of a fellow writer and blogger, Christina Hubbard. I loved bumping in Christina's world of words on her blog, and since then we have formed a great kinship of writing. So here's what she says about herself; Christina Hubbard is a poet who writes memoir. Her work has appeared at (in)courage and she recently hosted #write31days of Five Minute Free Writes. She loves helping women find courage and freedom to influence their world with honest, beautiful story. A wife and mom to two squirrelly kids who will change the world, Christina loves sitting on her deck and dreaming up roadtrips and overseas adventures. Find her at Creative and Free

 Christina's Heart! (I fell in love with this poem of hers!)

Come by Here, My Lord

What do we do when love beckons, 

But we fear it?

When it requires us to knock down 

The black night of our own terrible histories,

Cement with sledgehammers,

Hate with kisses,

Bitterness with hand-holding grace.

How can we welcome the murderer into our homes,

The thief to our beds?

But I tell you, It's courage to embrace.

We are still piecing together the disintegration of our lives:

Race hate.

Religious terror.

How come we by some hope?

Come, sing, friend,

Kumbayah. 

We'll weave small threads, like children around the campfire

Blazing. 

Christina's Favourite Poem

 I love poetry which socks it to you with the turn of a word, or phrase, and stays in the concrete world. Poetry is easy when we stay in the abstract. When we struggle with the details of a moment and listen to what they want to tell us, then we begin making art that really means something. One of my favorite poets right now is Laura Van Prooyen

I highly recommend her book: Our House Was On Fire. The book's title comes from her poem "Blanket." She has a way of startling you with subtle truth in a simple line,

"but tucking my daughter in bed

I ask: If our house was on fire

which would you choose?

She says: My blanket, Mom,

'cause you can run."

Sharing Christina's Poetry over at #smallwonder link up 
 

MeaningFull Poetry Week: Bianca's Heart

Day4 and what a day to share our hearts and lives! Today I am blessed to introduce my fellow friend and sister Bianca Pipe.

Bianca is a Yeshua pursuing, tea hoarding, animal loving South African. As someone who is a big planner and likes things to go according to said plan, she is terrifyingly and wonderfully in awe as she experiences all these plans unravel and watches as Yahweh creates a story for her life much better than the one she had originally planned for. Currently, she finds herself as an accidental nomad in England as she discovers who she is in Yeshua and all that He has in store for her life. She occasionally shares bits of her story over at Written by Rivkah

Bianca does not write poetry or even considers herself a writer, but she wrote a moving Psalm through a personal encounter with her God, here are her words..

A Psalm

A season of life without words

A destitute land.

Forgotten, abandoned, left for dead.

Why have you forsaken me, my God?

When will you remember me?

I cried out onto empty ears.

I searched high and low

I searched for You but You were nowhere to be seen.

Please, my God, remember me.

May Your anger towards me disappear,

Before I do.

In a destitute land, it was there.

It was there where You found me.

Broken, beaten, bleeding.

You lifted me in Your arms.

Cradled me close to Your chest.

I could hear the beating of Your heart against my ear.

Come, My darling daughter.

Come, rest in My arms.

Weep no more, daughter

For I am with you.

Along the still waters, I walked

Hand in hand, gazing into Your eyes

The warm glow of the sun on my bare face.

Forever loved, forever safe in Your care

And now, out of my mouth comes no more wailing

But rather a song.

A song of restoration

A song of grace.

Words that speak of Your majesty and saving power

A song for my King and my Beloved.

A song for the nation

A song for the future

A song.

Her favourite Poem;

I am Woman by Aliyah Lauren Jacobs, (thanks my friend!:))

The reason that this is my number one poem is because when I read it, a fire within me is ignited. This poem causes a light to be cast on all that I have been through. Things that were meant to defeat me, reject me and silence me. This poem makes me see that these things instead made me unconquerable in Him, accepted in Him and helped me to live more loudly and boldly than what I ever thought I’d be able to. I have this poem hanging in my bedroom and when I need to be reminded of who I am, I read it. When I need encouragement, I read it. When I am feeling weak and broken and weary, I read it. It is through this poem that the Father has spoken so deeply into my heart. It reminds me of who He created us all to be. It is who we are – unafraid, hand-made, warrior, ruler, poet, queen.

I am Woman

By Lauren Jacobs

I am Woman – I choose to be undefined.

Undefeated but despised.

Rejected

Dismembered

Disgraced

Maltreated.

But I am Woman – unafraid to be seen.

I am me – a woman and everything that means.

Unafraid

Hand-made

Warrior,

Ruler, poet

Queen,

Boldly powerful,

With a need to be seen.

This is Woman – take a look and see

Object,

Subject,

Beaten

Silenced

But still undefeated; Queen.

I am Woman! Possessing a powerful form.

Victorious,

Impassioned,

Courageous,

Spirited.

Formidable.

She is Woman and all that means!

Captain,

Healer

Fighter,

A Freer.

Impassioned,

Emblazoned

Powerful,

Whole.

I am woman, a spark inflamed, crowned with glory

That is all of me. She is woman, poet, ruler, Warrior, Queen.

Sharing at Holley Gerth