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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Life’s Breath (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 29 2009

I’ve always loved the recklessness

the road warned against

supplies

the breath of life

comes from choosing feeling

the road suggested

comes stealing conviction,

suffocating belief,

handing out grief,

it will work a spirit till it’s weak

and considers falling in line

happens all the time

to even the most headstrong

poison in the heart

making it all seem wrong

making what’s not

look so good

making what is

look like something no one would

hold on to

And the choosers forget why they choose what they choose

and don’t know what is true

or what to do

clarity comes

in so many forms

looks like perseverance pays-

seeking the soul of things

till

the chooser gets back the reigns

and can see

what it feels like

to have been right

from the first step

of recklessness

the gritty sweet

of life’s breath.

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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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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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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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Debtor (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, May 24 2009

(1/31 to 5/25 2001)

O My God,
You overwhelm me.
This is more that I’ll ever deserve.
What a heavenly gift!
I could never earn such joy.

You are consistently
the sunlight that
warms and fills me
after savage storms destroy me
and leave me
ransacked,
cold
and incomplete.

I’ve allowed so many
clouds
to devour
your complete essence;
I began to believe in darkness
as reality.
Then there is no happiness,
there is no free-
only chains of pain and yesterdays,
bad dreams and restlessness that won’t go away.

But the darkness lies.
And it’s hidden the truth from these bloodshot eyes.

I’ve come to understand this:
You are my only peace,
true motivation,
chance at beauty,
and inspiration.

And even as I flounder and fall,
vainly cry out and call,
run everywhere but home,
and wonder why I’m so alone,
You never move from me.

Even as I move from myself,
even after I’ve ignored You,
You never refuse to help.

I’m constantly
rediscovering
Your Divinity.
And I’ll gladly be
forever
a debtor.
For I’m full to the top,
And my cup runneth over.

“You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” Psalm 23:5

This is probably my favorite of the older poems from this time period. It was the completion of a section of a journey; it was the mountain I’d been climbing for so long with so many tears and words and months.

The beginning stanza always makes me uncomfortable, it’s so unabashedly praise-full. It’s no small feat to be in that place. I’m not really a “Praise Jesus!” with her hands in the hair kind of girl. That’s just not my style. But there are times that I am a face toward the sky, palms facing up or resting on my heart, silent tears down my face kind of “O My God” and that’s what this is.

This is resting at the top of that mountain, love and peace and purpose shaking my soul. This is the understanding of “us”, God and me. The love, the relationship. God is still the “sunlight that warms and fills me after savage storms destroy me”. God is still my freedom. God is still my beauty, motivation, inspiration. God is still my perfect parent- covering me, understanding me, guiding, waiting, pulling, forgiving. I say nothing of love here specifically, but this is love: grace, warmth, presence, patience, light; arms that never close. That is my God, as God has always been, and always will be.

It is this love, the acceptance of this love that changes people. Nothing will change you like accepting this kind of love. From there, anything is truly possible. Full to the top with this kind of thing makes a person brave with belief. Makes a person willing to take part in daily miracles because they can now see how many opportunities there are.

And the misconception here, the reason I think so many times we aren’t accepting this love, is because we feel we can’t earn it. But the reason we can’t earn it is not because we don’t deserve it, it’s because it’s not up for the earning. It is there, always, from the beginning. It is there for the taking, as soon as we allow ourselves to take it. The idea that we are not worthy is not of love. It’s not of God. Nothing about God supports that line of thinking. Don’t believe that. Don’t believe anyone, any thing that makes you think you need to be anything other than what you are to have love. Those are lies. And we all know the master of lies. Don’t buy his crap. He’ll sell you anything that will keep you down. Satan is a loser. His darkness is an already defeated lie. Don’t waste time on it. Just take love. Open, free, encompassing, love. Take it. Break and break and break until there’s room for it. And keep breaking if you have to. I know I do.

Everything else will come. Just take love.

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Of Dispirited Disposition (by Rebecca Chasteen) Sunday, May 24 2009

(1-21-01)

I fall so much you’d think I’m blind.
I let this world keep polluting my mind.
I can’t stand.
I fall constantly.
And I seem to be
in my own way more than anything else.
I hold back myself
with all my contradicting desires.

My drive is feeble.
It barely moves me.
I feel so unable.
I can’t seem to be
anything I dream-

Only what I despise;
self-absorbed and insecure.
I’ve forgotten what matters.
I don’t know myself anymore.
I can’t find anything worth fighting for.

What once moved me
has moved from me.
I’m clinging to the past.
I’m striving for what I once had.

I gave up on myself too quickly.
Who will have faith in me
if I have no faith in myself?
And if I can’t love me
how can I love anyone else?

How can I strive to save others
when I’m sinking
into nothingness?

Aimless desperation
clouds desire and expectation.

I want to be
so much more than what I am.
I need truth, motivation, and beauty.
Lord, I need your hand.

“Come to me all ye who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.” Matthews 11:28

I’ve always loved the first line of this one. It kind of makes me laugh, it flows, it’s exactly how it feels sometimes…The part ” If I can’t love me, how can I love anyone else? How can I save others when I’m sinking into nothingness?” is what stands out here to me, because it’s still something I have to work on, particularly in my line of work.  I have to have love for myself, within myself, before I can dole that out to anyone at all. I have to have hope, I have to believe, I have to, or not only will my life suck, but I will be fairly useless in helping anyone else do anything positive with their life. Not that I can’t be sad or feel afraid, but that I have to stay away from that dangerous spiral down from which it is so hard to see any light at all.  It’s nice to have that push though, that it’s not just about me, it’s about the people around me too (professionally or personally).

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What’s Really Missing From Our Saving Accounts (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, May 7 2009

For today’s poem, I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can’t put your finger on (like “love” or “the spirit of Christmas” or something).

What’s Really Missing From Our Saving Accounts

Save the earth!
Save prayer in schools!
Save “Merry Christmas”!
Save our rights!
Save our money!

Save our asses!

Save business!
Save healthcare!
Save welfare!

SAVE OUR COUNTRY
from liberals and conservatives and socialists and terrorists!

Save the children! (in a third world country)
Save the memories!
Save the system on a separate hard drive!
Save animals!
Save your virginity!
Save your waistline!

Save your paint job,
your dye job,
your favorite pumps!
Save your corsage from your first dance!

Save your sanity…

SAVE.
YOUR.
SELF.

Because we sure as hell
aren’t saving each other.

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/April+PAD+Challenge+Day+6.aspx

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