Sunday, 15 October 2017

when heaven touches earth

Some days we feel like the cruelties and evil of this world just become too much to bear,
a hopeless cause,
a place you and I will never be able to change or make a difference in.
You want to turn your face from the tragedies and heartbreak all around you,
because yes,
sometimes living in this fallen world can be exhausting.

But other days,
heaven touches earth
and you can feel your very bones vibrate with the hope that He brings when He comes near.
Near to the mess,
near to the brokenness,
near to the hopelessness.

& on the days when His Kingdom comes close,
so close you want to reach out and touch it,
grab onto it with both hands and never let go,

you will know it more than ever,

that you, dear child,
are living for something more,
something unseen,
something eternal.

Monday, 10 April 2017

hold me right

For so long I've stood,
arms open,
a welcome sign hung around my neck,
welcoming in all who are seeking,
always thinking I must have what they are looking for

but this welcoming in has taken its toll,
this always giving myself away
to people who forget my name after they
have wiped away their last tear
or lifted their head up from my shoulder,
it has left me seeking,
seeking after someone like me

so from now on
I swear I will

wrap these arms around myself, 

I will hold my own body tight,

I will hold this body right. 

Thursday, 30 March 2017

royal poetry

The story of us
involves doubt and unbelief,
learning to trust when I (really) don't feel like it,
learning how not to feel powerless in all I can't control,
learning how to find freedom in surrender.

None of my questions have ever fazed You,
nothing I do or say comes as a surprise to You.

You are the only One who can love me this way,
through my highest highs
and lowest lows,
all the same,
without hesitation,
without limits,

You are the only One who looks at my mess and calls it 'holy',
the only One who calls me 'complete'
as I run to you with scrapes and scars and broken pieces,
the only One who sews me back together when I start tearing at the seams.

Your love is the truest and purest love I've ever known,

Your love is what keeps this universe from falling apart,

Your love is the deepest mystery humanity has ever tried to solve.

here I am,
messed up,

and I am loved by You.

Thursday, 3 November 2016


You will never know the depths someone
contains within themselves if you only
splash around in the shallow end.

Thursday, 27 October 2016

lessons in blue ink

I've been sitting here for the last two hours
with a pen in my hand
and a blank page in front of me
but somehow tonight,
the words won't come out,
won't arrange themselves
neatly into sentences and metaphors
like they usually do.

The relief of being able to open up my chest
and let it all out won't greet me and I find myself
suffocating in feelings I can't put into words.

I feel like I've woken up on
the wrong side, in the wrong body.
A body whose hands don't know the
way to hold a pen like a lover
and whose mind doesn't look like
the inside of an open notebook,
whose blood isn't spelled 'ink'.

And suddenly I don't know what to do
with myself because now I have nowhere
to escape to, no one to turn to.
No one who understands me the way words do,
no one who offers me shelter the way writing does.

And tonight, all I can think about is
what a tragedy it is when a writer runs out of words.

Friday, 9 September 2016

give me time

Somehow, somewhere, I started listening to the voices,
they got inside my head, bouncing around inside my skull,
screaming loud about things that made me want to
turn and run.

But I quietened them,
told them to sit down
and be patient.

A masterpiece isn't crafted in a day.

So won't you give me time to be a mess?

Monday, 22 August 2016


This is for the ones who feel unintelligent
because of their inability to understand
what happens when you change the
variables in the equation for a parabola.

The ones who have spent too many years
feeling like they're breaking their heads over
a math problem the rest of class did in
a matter of two minutes.

The ones who feel misunderstood,
feel like they've mastered the art
of being a wallflower.

Because you see, I might not
get stoichiometry,
but do you get
how to write a piece of poetry
that will make your father cry?

I believe in many types of intelligence.

And if there is one thing I know, it's that
you cannot narrow down the word 'smart'
until it means 'to be good at math and science',
because the girl over there,
with shooting stars behind her eyes,
with an entire universe hiding in her mind,
she'll spend her days believing she is dumb
until someone explains to her that there are
many ways to be smart.

So tell her
that there's nothing wrong
with a head full of words instead of
a head full of numbers,
tell her the world needs more people that
thinks the way she does,
that there are empty places that only she can fill.

Tell her that this life needs more
deep feelers,
more dreamers,
more storytellers,
more people who are willing to
write about what hurts.

Tell her that it's okay if her words
sound better in her head
and written down on paper
than out loud.

That you don't need biceps to be strong,
that you don't need an 'A' printed next to a math test
to prove your intelligence.

That you don't need another person's praise
to validate your talents or ideas,
to validate your voice.

Tell the girl with metaphors running through her veins
that you don't need to have your name
spoken over a microphone to prove you're heard,
that you don't need a bright spotlight and a stage
to prove you're seen.

Go on.

Tell her.