poetry of raw truth: mistakes and glory all in one
I resist talking to her. Although I am desperate to hear her voice. Or have her hear me. It is confusing, which way the conversation will go.
I see her there–separate from me though part of me–and I edge in closer. I have been watching her from a distance, studying her posture, the way her hands hang at her sides, the jut of her hips. But it is her eyes I am afraid to read. For that would require closeness. Intimacy. Begging for permission. And her time. Her attention. Her voice. Oh, how I long to hear her voice.
But I have told you that already.
How would a conversation with her begin? Can I even speak the first words?
“Hello. You are unknown to me though I can’t keep my eyes off you. Do you mind? Do you mind my staring? Do you mind my curiosity? Can we speak, face to face? Will you share with me your heart?”
Would that be weird? Would she tolerate my questions, my attention? Would she exhale, earnest in her appreciation to be known, seen, heard?
I want to know her. Understand her. And she is a puzzle to me. Pieces of memory and imagination. Experiences lived and unlived. She has traveled long distances to get here, and I want to honor that sacrifice. A life of trial and beauty. A journey of mistakes and glory all in one.
She is me. And I am her. And we need to get to know each other. Starting from the middle, the beginning, both the songs of joy and the dirges of sorrow. There is much I can teach her. And much she will help me understand. Do I dare to begin? To speak? To listen? To ask her the toughest questions? To invite her to stare into the face of shame and speak truth–instead of lies–straight back?
I think it is worth finding out.
For this week’s Loop Poetry Project prompt, I invite you to explore an unedited, raw truth about yourself–something about you that you love and admire–or something about you that you struggle to accept or understand.
Let me give you some background that explains why I think this is important.
One thing that is difficult to do as a writer is to write unselfconsciously–to write without caring whether or not you will be liked by the reader. (We all do this, right?) We want to sound smart, appear decent. We want to seem wise, put-together, kind. But if we care more about the presentation of ourselves than the sharing of what is true, two things are happening. First, we are dismissing the opportunity for intimacy with the reader. The voice of the poem is much less effective when it is filtered and untrue. But secondly, and most importantly, we are rejecting the invitation for our own deeper healing. Each poem, if true, is an entryway to the mysteries of the human heart–an invitation to delve deep and discover what God is saying.
Here is something to consider: Can you imagine beginning a poem with an admission of failure or error? Personal or professional. Minor or major. Not because you are trying to get better at self-condemnation. Certainly not. But because you don’t want to hide. Because you want to take off the grave clothes of shame and let God into the places of vulnerability that we so often want to ignore and hide.
Can we let our poem, this week, be a declaration of glory in our weakness? Can we look for how we are beautiful even in our brokenness? Can we write from a place of honesty and self-revelation rather than from self-accusation regret, or blame? And remember, you don’t have to write your poem from the first-person point of view. Rather than saying “I was cruel to the girl in the mirror,” you could say “She was cruel . . . ” if that helps you not censor yourself and write from a place that is unfiltered and raw, beautiful and safe.
Here is mine:
If you need help getting started, here are some questions you can ask yourself that might help:
- What mistakes do you have trouble surrendering?
- What worry makes it a struggle for you to sleep?
- What did you forget to do this morning?
- What secret makes you most insecure?
- What is something about which you refuse to speak?
Use the first person, if you’d like–or have the speaker be someone outside yourself, an observer, someone else telling a story. Do whatever the poem requires. Listen to your heart. It will tell you the right words to say.
And then, when you’ve written your poem, consider sharing it with us here, by pasting your poem as a comment to this post. Or, open up your heart to sharing it with your community on social media (on your personal Instagram feed and your personal Facebook page) and make sure to use the hashtag #looppoetryproject. Another place to share–where it will be kept private except for the members of the private Loop Poetry Project group members–is to the Loop Poetry Project Facebook page. (Click here to join!)
Much love to you, from this one true heart,
jennifer
15 Comments
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“Here is something to consider: Can you imagine beginning a poem with an admission of failure or error? Personal or professional. Minor or major. Not because you are trying to get better at self-condemnation. Certainly not. But because you don’t want to hide. Because you want to take off the grave clothes of shame and let God into the places of vulnerability that we so often want to ignore and hide. ”
This paragraph got me. What if we also did this in conversations with others. Or maybe in conversations with our self? And prayers with God? Let’s quit hiding.
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Yes, yes! Love that idea so much. I completely agree that this would be important movement toward healing.
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Memories with her.
Why did she marry him?
She didnt have the guts to tell her parents.
She knew how much her parents put into the catering,places to sleep for the guests and to make sure they give her a special day with every thing perfect.
She wanted to shout stop,stop please but couldnt do it.
The mariage was 20 years of abuse.
After every promise that it wouldnt happen again she except the promise. She loves God and know to divorce is a sin and she didnt want to disapoint God.
Her children were abuse as well. She talked to her pastor but he likes all the money from the abuser.
He had several affairs even on holiday we end up with “friends” that I was surprised to see at our destination.
She felt dirty. She couldnt look at him or touch him and that made her the acused one why the marriage didnt work.
He had alot of money and bribed the judges and she walked out with nothing. She prayed and cried on her knees and ask forgivenes from her Heavenly Father. She could feel His arms around her and the promise that He will never leave here or forsake her.
Her children were scarred but eventualy they healed. Her parents shower them with love and they felt they can face the world.
With the love they got at church they know God will provide. 14 Years later they are done with university and have wonderful jobs. She is a very proud mother and regained selfconfidence.
All the glory to God that they have survived and are a happy smiling family without all the money from the abuser.
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Breaking open,
All the fear unspoken.
Is it time?
What is time?
A measure, a perception.
The timeless Witness,
The creature and creation.
In metamorphosis, unfolding.
Breaking open,
A heart open.
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Wow, love how we are invited into this space of pondering with you. So good. Thank you for sharing this here, Mbalenhle.
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I had a word today About me it spoke that I wear a wetsuit to protect myself from people and situations.
how true is this the things that have been done to me have made me protect myself from myself, protect the wounds I have, protect the emotional black mail, protect me from others, just in case they hurt me, use and abuse me.
This is a bit lonely I know it isolate me from other, because I don’t let them in. They only close on surface not much closer than that.
My husband my my children my work colleges my parents and siblings. How lonely life can be with the protection I have created. How alone I am but he says to take that wetsuit off, it’s ok to get a bit hurt, I’ll be there with you, I have always been there for you. My child.
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Oh, Margarita, bless you! This is so, so good! Such an amazing revelation. Here you go now, sister–deeper into His love. He is guiding you. One step at a time. Praying now for protection and courage as you trust in Him.
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Silenced Heart
A child lost
No grave to visit
Her grief unspoken
She blows kisses in the wind
She hunts social media for traces
Of what was and what could be
Does adoption make her loss less painful?
Is the grave crueler because of its permanence?
What if wondering is the hardest of all?
She cries tears of regret
She cries wishful tears
She weeps through the cracks of a broken heart.
She made mistakes
She does not profess perfection
But she always did the best she could.
It wasn’t enough
She will always be judged
Her grief forbidden, unspoken
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Dear sister, I am so so sorry. Oh, this poem. Your heart. So beautiful. Praying now for healing in these deep places. Jesus, mercy. We love you. Hold Your daughter now. Show her the baby you have with you now.
I will continue to pray.
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My Lack/His Full
Lacking confidence and concentration,
Striving, ending in frustration.
Hoping somehow for a fascinating narration,
That a different story will bring the ovation.
External and internal voices adding to the deception.
The “not enough voice” a steady companion.
No matter the work and the planning,
Left with emptiness, feeling abandoned.
My lack though; leaving room for more than I can imagine.
His “full” has, can, and will stop stagnation.
His “enough” is able to fight all temptation.
His “more than” is an endless supply for all duration.
His overcoming power when received, leaving all in grateful prostration.
Father, son and Holy Spirit together in compassion
Never leaving, constant champion.
His love instilling in me His passion,
Moving me to be still or to action.
His sufficient grace poured out after resurrection,
Ample to overcome all rejection.
Needing to believe that my lack will go beyond all expectation,
That He is complete, and I will be found whole
in Gods’ heavenly thrown by His extravagant transaction.
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Wow, Dale! such a beautiful gift! Thank you! What was your experience like writing this?
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I will admit this is an older writing but the process still the same …letting the holy Spirit work into those spaces, speaking truth and then when I write it down it becomes real and something I look back and continue to remind myself to walk in.
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Yes! So wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing it here!
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It isn’t easy for her to explain how fierce her love is
standing on the bridge of friendship
facing its other side
whiles visibly seeing the
possibility of shutting the doors of her heart
when hurt and pain threatens.
She almost closed the door to
exploring the vast lands and space
within herself as She deeply enjoys
the hugs and chattering with the loves of her life.
She’s keen about her life being a sweet scented
sacrifice acceptable unto her Abba.
enjoying life hasn’t diminished her desire of
the son of David embracing her as he utters
well done my good and faithful girl.
Food, exploring, creating memories
are all the other things
that warms her heart
and keep her giggling each and every day.
at