bury (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Oct 6 2009

if i could bury myself in this, i would. i would suffocate myself with this. i would place it over my mouth, my nose, my eyes. i
would just let it be the last thing i breathe, the last thing i see, the last thing i think. i
would leave it
just like that. so i would never have to wake up without it one more day. so i
would never
have to look at it from a distance, from an unimaginable distance. i
wouldn’t have to
yell into the void between, the place where my voice never reaches, my words
never matter enough.
i wouldn’t question again why i stand on the fringe of it all, why i
assume
my bridges are too shaky, or my roots too heavy, my intensity too much or
of course, not enough, whatever the argument may be. or that i
am too much or
too little
never again a concern because,entombed in this, i couldn’t be
anything else
but the one who carried this so close it took over and
took my place, couraged me enough to
let go and just
be this
and nothing else, since
i
never really was the rest. i never really was anything else anyway.

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Hope and Stay (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 29 2009

If I could find the vessel

that so resiliently

keeps producing this optimism,

I would rip the damn thing out

that would have to be

less painful

than the torturous wait

that hoping creates

always believing

seems so masochistic

there’s no giving up, no numbing relief of indifference,

no walking away

just hope

and stay.

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Bring The Fighter Back (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 15 2009

Bring the fighter back,
You’ve been under attack for too long.
Letting go-
you let too much get gone.
Sometimes you wonder just where it went wrong.

You look in the mirror
and all you see
is who you used to be,
want to be,
will never be.

You can’t get free of the things
that keep breaking you down -
the things you let tear you right to the ground

Well,
Stop.

Bring the fighter back.
You’ve it all go slack.
You need to stop letting things kick your ass,
And start kicking back.

You feel lost,
At a loss,
Never enough,
Like giving up

Bring the fighter back.
You’re back and forth,
You’re up and down,
On and off the right track,
Never feeling found,
Where you stand never seeming sound.

You’re buried.
And wanting.
Stop mourning.
Start pushing.

Because the battles we fight on the inside
are the ones that effect our day-to-day lives.

Find a way to put your vices down.
It’s time to GET UP
And stop sitting around.
Find the things you’re missing.
Be done with envy and wishing.

Stop whispering excuses,
And screaming out blame.

Bring the fighter back,
And get back in the game.

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Pilgrim Heart (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Aug 20 2009

I’ve got a pilgrim heart
it gravitates
to caverns
and mountains.

Move
spirit
move.

I seek You
in every place
I ever go,
In every face.

Faith and love and light and rest
coincide with
darkness and
dirty hands.

Deliver,
design,
guide,

my heart’s travels.

Keep me close
and in the perils,
substantiate
every thing.

I dive in
to lakes
and graves
seeking every permutation
of beauty,
every version
of love and faith.

You are every where,
I am set on
finding You there.

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I’m a Giant Kicker (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Aug 20 2009

I jump into fires
and lion’s dens.
I run up to giants,
sling my stones
and kick their shins.

My armor is well used,
molded in battle.
Every time I come out
a slightly different warrior,
but a warrior all the same.

Sometimes
I’m in the belly of the whale
but I still end up right where
I am
right when
right in
the design.

I have this independent spirit, this pilgrim heart.
I won’t do just because someone told me to.
I will seek – I won’t be told my truths.

I’m this fighter for faith
I’m not satisfied standing by.
I’m not willing to stop.
I breathe only because I believe.

I have these words, these lover’s hands
I speak the mercy I know, what I’ve been shown.
I touch wounds easy,
I know I’m no healer-
but love can be.

I am this spirited, lover -fighter -pilgrim- child.
I am shaped, designed, and carefully wired
just as I am
by this Master Artist’s hands.

There is nothing new under the sun
I’m not the first that stood to fight,
sought the truth,
refused to run.

I’m not the first that begged for yes or no-
that walked for years unsure of where or how to go.
I’m not the first to doubt, or the first to serve,
the first that didn’t listen or crafted pretty words.

I am in the company of sinners and saints, all the same;
all magnificently capable and incredibly lame.

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Steady Line (by Rebecca Chasteen) Friday, Jul 17 2009

I see the steady line
of you and I
in the folds of time

it’s never been
anything else
no matter
how far
no matter how little
how much

we touch
on that line
so easy,
it’s hard to follow

but we’re free from everything-
you and I
on that steady line

I promise you
I saw it there
all along

I find hope in standing here
looking forward, looking back
all the roads we take
fall to, or from this track
and they all lead here

it’s what I know more than what I feel

because I feel
everything
and I usually fall down
waiting
or move forward, almost
giving up
throwing out crumbs for you to follow
forgetting you know the way

the way’s the same-
some things don’t change

I see the steady line
of you and I
in all the folds of time
Don’t you know
there’s no right or wrong?
Haven’t you known that
all along?

I’ve known
all along
about you

we are both
wind and sun
we are everywhere, there’s no where to run
we are everything, underneath it all
it doesn’t matter-

walls
fall
and there,
behind,

you’ll find
that steady line
of you and I.

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Pretty (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Jun 29 2009

Don’t be so surprised by pretty mouths full of dirty words-
the dirty is not the part that hurts.

Everyone knows
pretty only gets you so far
and it’ll come down to
what you’ll swallow
and what you’ll spit,
what you’ll reject
and what you’ll stretch or shrink to fit

Pretty mouths
have to learn
“Me first”
and
“Fuck you”
or even
“Fuck me”

Pretty mouths have to be
able to say “No”
and spit it with conviction

Pretty mouths
have to practice non-pretty ways
to secure attention

Pretty mouths
have to be willing
to dirty themselves
with
sex and money and politics,
with opinions and arguments

Pretty mouths
have to put out
exactly
what they’re told to take down
so their voice
makes it’s way around
the teeth and tongue and lips,
all the things that rest on the tips…

I’m not saying pretty mouths
can’t gloss it up,
can’t pout it out,
can’t pour out sweet,
and drink sweet down

I’m not saying pretty mouths
can’t move as they choose-
but a pretty mouth that won’t get dirty
may lose all there is to lose

So don’t you dare lay out
fairytales
for little lips
from the spoons of your mouths

Don’t enchant them
with dreams that someone else must fulfill
(because no one can and no one will)

No-
feed them
honesty and the power of vocabulary
that spans all the things they’ll ever taste or
have to demand or
suck away from someone else
to make sure they have enough for themselves

Feed them love and feed them the gritty,
just don’t feed them
the crutch of pretty.

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Side step (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Jun 29 2009

I couldn’t slip through
I couldn’t side step you-

don’t worry

the best
can
get beyond the worst
with such quiet calm
they look crazy

and I am satisfied
with my changes

blazes
eradicate
the least important things,
so I’ve never really minded being licked by flames

the more you rough me up,
the smoother I become;
sandpaper against scratches
just polishes me up

I don’t try
to stand above,
untouched

I don’t stop
uneasy,
unsure

whatever label you’ve given me,
just know that I’m more

I can take any shape
and I’m so pliant
I won’t break

So,
I didn’t slip through
I didn’t side step you
I didn’t try to.

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Stakeout (by Rebecca Chasteen) Wednesday, May 27 2009

For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem of longing.

Stakeout

Standing at the periphery
I know you know
I want you to see
I’m watching
everything
waiting for my opportunity
to slip into
the inner circle
be folded in
to the pages
of history with you

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/2009/04/27/AprilPADChallengeDay27.aspx

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It’s Okay to Walk Alone (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, May 24 2009

“You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” Psalm 16:11

It’s Okay to Walk Alone (5/22/00)

It’s okay to walk alone.
Once you’ve made up your mind,
don’t ever doubt the truth you know,
don’t be discouraged
when you find yourself
alone
on a road that seems unused.

It’s okay to not make sense to anyone but yourself.
Don’t be frustrated when
everyone fails to understand,
don’t feel abandoned when you reach for a hand
and no one’s reaching out.

Don’t you know the words you say reach God in heave when you pray?
So don’t feel lonely.

And when you begin to realize that no one else
can see things through your eyes,
find a way to show them your world.
Don’t let anyone ignore
how beautiful you are.

If you decide to walk alone,
you must be strong.
Don’t ever condone what you know is wrong,
don’t pretend to agree with what you don’t believe,
don’t place your faith in something that will change,
don’t lose your hope,
don’t run from pain.

And when inside your heart the truth is known,
don’t be afraid to walk alone.

As I promised long ago to Caleb, this is an older poem (not the really old stuff, but I’ll get there!). I’m about to post a few more as well. I picked out the ones I picked because I read a blog entry by a friend of a friend that inspired the selection. Sometimes, the best way to say “I’ve been there”, is to just be there, as you were, as you are.

Woven into each of these older poems that I’ll post today is G.A. (General Appalachian) camp at the Advent Christian campground in Blocking Rock  NC, Alpha Omega youth group from Dulins Grove Church, and the farm- the dirt road, the open sky, the sun. I couldn’t unweave these influences if I tried. They still run rampant through my heart and push themselves out at any given moment. A collection of “homes”, of places I met with, challenged, devoured, submitted to, and learned the power and freedom of a God-induced high. Places where I was never held back, never rejected, never discouraged. I can say, without a doubt I wouldn’t be this person without those places (and all they encompassed).

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