Jana's Poetry Place

How Can I Teach Her

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 09 Jul 2007 18:29:00 +0000

A girl of twelve looks up at me
With eyes pleading for help

I long to be her hero
Teach her everything she needs to know
Hold her in my arms
Give her some hope

I long to give her the answers
To the questions in her eyes
Wipe away all her tears
Fix the broken parts of her life

Looking inside myself
I have nothing to offer
How can I teach her
What I don’t know?

I long to give her a mirror
Showing her a head of curls
Tell her of the beauty
She can achieve

But my hands are clumsy
The rollers tangle in her hair
The curls won’t stay in
She feels so plain

I long to tell her
How to stand up for herself
Unchanging when others pressure
Confident of who she is

But I still crumble
Under the weight of the slightest criticism
Wanting desperately
To be affirmed too

I long to help her love her body
To eat foods that are good
Avoid foods that are bad
Consistently exercise

But I run into the arms of comfort food
Time and time again
Instead of working out my feelings
On a treadmill or a tennis court

I long to show her how to keep her space
Neat, tidy, decorated well
Where friends will feel comfortable
She will feel proud

But my own house is a wreck
Consequences of daily neglect
We cry together
So overwhelmed

I feel so helpless
So alone
unequipped for this task
No answers to give her

So I simply hold her close
This little girl
How can I teach her
What I do not know?

A Single Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Thu, 14 Jun 2007 18:22:00 +0000

On my way to the pharmacy
Just grabing some eye drops
But a single moment,
A chance encounter
(Or was it really chance?)
Made all the difference in my day.

Walking into the store
A woman caught my eye
As she zipped along before me
In her power chair
With a bright orange flower
Hanging from the headrest.

I complimented her on the flower
And we began to chat
About the flower
And the friend who gave it to her

She told me how many times it fell off of her chair
How many times she put it back on
And the superglue she finally used
In a moment of desperation,
To keep the flower attached.

Now she looks at the flower,
Whenever she is sick
It used to make her smile
But now it makes her laugh
As she remembers the superglue.

We went inside the store together
I went on with my life
Waiting at the counter
Lost in thought

The woman passed by me again
Her eyes were red now
And I asked if she was okay.

She said she had a funeral
For a close friend later today
She dreaded going to it
The first funeral since her sister's death
But he was a close friend.

In that moment I remembered
The strong arms of my Dad's best friend
As we stood beside my father's casket
How he held me close
When I was so weak.

He told me how much my father loved me
How his face lit up when he talked about me.
Words I'll never forget
They were exactly what I needed to hear that day

And what I needed to hear today too.
As Father's Day approaches
Ads with fathers and daughters are everywhere
Each one bringing a stab of pain

But in the midst of the pain,
A single moment
A reminder of a hug from long ago
Makes all the difference.

What Will Never Be

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 02:58:00 +0000

They say that one day
the power of each memory
will grow stronger
than the grief attached

But here in this moment
the grief is so strong
it overwhelms me
in the strangest of places

I miss you so much
sometimes I can't believe you're gone
a future without you
is totally unimaginable

Tears roll down my cheeks
as I think of the times we won't have
the adventures we won't go on
the moments we'll never share.

I'm grieving for the things
I miss about you
but most of all
I'm grieving for what will never be

Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 14:14:00 +0000

Where did my fire go, my passion to change the world?
Did it perish in the storms of life
Blown out by the winds
Or drowned in the rain?

Where did my fire go, my hope to be a light in a world so dark?
Was it stomped out
By a world that felt blinded by the light
Reacting in fear to Your gentle beacon?

Where did my fire go, my desire to give my all to You?
Was it slowly smothered
By so many people needing so much of meWhen I spent so little time letting you refill me?

Where did my fire go, my heart that broke for the lost?
Was it drowned in a sea of selfish desires
Consumed in my appetite for more of this and that
Or just forgotten as I thought only of myself?

Where did my fire go, my focus on You and Your will?
Was it destroyed in a whirlwind of activity
Running here and there
Cramming so many things into so little time?

Where did my fire go, my desire to live life to the fullest?
Did it slowly flicker
Growing cold
Lulled to sleep by the lullaby of mediocrity?

Where can I get this fire back?
I miss my passion, my depth, my intensity!
Kneeling in humble repentance
I feel a spark in my soul

Reading Your words
I feel the fire beginning to grow
Living in Your presence
The flickering flame becomes strong

Lighting a dark world
Spreading to those around me
Setting the world on fire

Little Hands - Poetry Thursday

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Thu, 28 Dec 2006 20:07:00 +0000

Little hands
Reaching up to me
Needing a hug, some love

Little hands
Trying to do so much
Struggling to grow up
To be big
To do everything "all by myself"

Little hands
Guided by my hands
Moving as mine move
Our hands, our hearts, moving together

Words Unspoken 8/9/2006

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Fri, 22 Sep 2006 15:31:00 +0000

Words Unspoken

My face remains impassive
The mask of calm safely in place

My heart rages inside me
"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

The words from my mouth are quiet
Revealing nothing inside

My heart burns within me
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I sit beside you
As if nothing had ever happened

My heart breaks inside me
"I TRUSTED YOU!"

I find my lost shovel
Digging a grave
For the words in my heart

My heart softly cries out
"You hurt me"

As the last heap of dirt
Burys all traces
Of words unspoken

Categories: Poetry, Pain

Guilt 6/14/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 19:28:00 +0000

In the river of life, guilt lurks unseen
Silently, it attaches itself to us
We don't even realize that it's there
In the murky waters it grows
We adjust our movements unconsciously
Compensating for it's growing weight
Slowly we notice a weariness
Each step is laborous
Our strength seems almost gone
Peering into the water, we recognize our guilt
Exhaustedly we struggle to break free

We pick up the guilt, hold it in our hands
Wondering what to do with it

Some throw the guilt at another
"It's all your fault!!!" they scream
But two can play at that game
And the guilt is always tossed back

Others clutch it fatalisticly to their chest
Embracing it's weight
They sink to the miry depths
Never to return

But a few are truly wise
Throwing the guilt down to the bottom of the river,
They jump on top of the guilt
And let it become a springboard
Launching them into new waters
Where guilt cannot follow

Categories: Poetry, Healing

Bridgette - 5/23/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:54:00 +0000

My best friend through the first 9 years of school
She lived in an old farmhouse with her grandma
When I was little, I always wondered why.

I remember her being so sad because she missed her mom
And I remember the bad days, the tears in her eyes
As she told me what her uncle had done
About how she told the teachers
And how they thought she lied.

I remember her first babysitting job.
She loved those kids so much!
She even brought them to church to show us how cute they were.
She always loved kids.
Some women are meant to be mothers.

I lost touch with her over the years
But I knew she'd made some bad decisions.
Didn't we all?

Last week I heard an update on her.
They said her kids were in foster care now
The different fathers of her children had abandoned her
And she was alone.

They described how the baby had cried
And she had yelled for it to JUST STOP!

And my heart broke,
For the woman who just needed some help.
A woman to teach her the things her mother couldn't
A friend to just say "here, I'll take the kids for an hour
So you can have some time alone"
Someone to help her stop the past
From being repeated.

Categories: Childhood, Family, Life

Diversity - 4/6/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:45:00 +0000

Diversity

Chinese, Lebanese
Black, White, Hispanic
Diversity is more than this

People from all nations, all backgrounds
All expected to be the same

Different people
All expected to fit into one mold

"This is what you should be" they say,
Pushing and squeezing you into their mold

Trying to fit you into a shape
You weren't made to be

This is not diversity
Diversity is something far greater

Diversity is different people
Allowed to be themselves
Working together

Diversity is remembering
That EVERY PERSON has value

Diversity is being respected as an individual
Not just as a "culture"

Diversity is every person finding their place
In the rainbow of creation

Diversity is everyone joining together
Becoming a community

Categories: Poetry, Connections

Real Life - 4/14/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:42:00 +0000

Real life is me, in my garden, with my hair up in a loose crazy-looking ponytail creation of some kind. My hands are covered in dirt, because I absolutely HATE gloves. There are handprints across my butt from where I've wiped my hands, and my knees are dirty from bending down to reach the plants. And I love every bit of the dirt.

Real life is me, propped up by pillows on my bed, surrounded by art supplies, yarn, and good books. Relaxing music is playing, usually ocean sounds and classical music, and I am at peace.

Real life is me, raising my hands, talking to a God I believe in wholeheartedly. Sometimes I weep, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I just talk a while. Soon the things of life start to pull at me, and I realize I have to leave him. But as I start to move on and do other tasks, I notice something. I feel filled.

Real life is me, holding a small hand, walking in the woods. The rains from the past few days have flooded the State park, making what was once a gentle stream rush forcefully over the rocks. I sit down on the top of the rocks, he sits on my lap. I push off, and down we go! The water has made the rocks into a perfect waterslide! We reach the bottom, and my backside is soaked, cold, and dirty. He looks up at me all excited, "can we do it AGAIN?!" My heart melts.

Real life is me, sitting in my local yarn store. It's open knitting night, and I have never been before. I am tense at first, but as we chat, I relax. We gab about this and that, politics, work, love,... and I quietly settle back in my chair. I feel at home.

Real life is me, on a Saturday morning. The roomate is gone, the house is quiet, and I am ENERGIZED! I throw on my "cleaning clothes" (you know the ones, kinda stained, kinda "hole-y"?). I throw my hair in a braid, and put on a bandana just because I can. I turn up music as loud as I possibly can, open up the doors to let fresh air in, and set to work. I clean and clean, singing loudly and off-key as I do it. I enjoy the smell of the cleaning supplies that fills the house. And when it's all said and done, I collapse down in exhaustion and play a game on my computer, loving my nice clean house. I feel accomplished.

Real life is me, hiking with my cousins. We find a section of rocks, and of course we have to climb! We go up the hillsides, hanging onto small trees when we can. We find strange bugs, and admire the view from the top. We find a small hollowed out space in one of the giant rocks. We squeeze in, and dream. We think about the lives of the Indians who once roamed this woods. Did they hide there from the rain? Did they pretend it was a house? What were their lives like? I look around me and see the beauty of nature, and the warmth of family. I feel whole.

Categories: Poetry, Family, Life

Testimony - 4/17/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:36:00 +0000

Shattered
Broken
Wounded by sins
Others had committed

Wandering
Searching
Looking for a God who was real

Traditions
Hypocracy
Those were the "Christianity" I'd known

Desperatlely searching
For a God that was real
In someones life

Empty
Hungry for love
I slid deeper and deeper
Into sins that I couldn't control

But a merciful God saw more
Than the anger I felt
Looking into the broken heart

People entered my life
Telling me this God was real
And their lives showed it.

Living the faith they taught
I listened to their words
And wondered
"Could he be real to me too?"

Sitting here with you now
I'm amazed yet again
That he was, and still is

Healing
Comforting
He's been real in my life
In ways I could never have expected.

Loving
Caring
He longs to be that real
In your life too

Categories: Poetry, Spiritual

Wasting My Life - 4/21/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:30:00 +0000

I go about my day
Just as I have a thousand days before
Looking to accomplish
What I always have.

Giving no thought
To the dreams I once had
Or to the people who need
Those dreams to become a reality

I live in a daze
With glassy eyes
That look all around me
Seeing nothing

Numb to the pain
Not feeling any sadness
But also not feeling
My life

I need to wake up
From this dream I live in
To feel the hopes and the dreams
And make a difference in my day

To remember
My life makes an impact
Ripples that change the world
Words that change lives

Categories: Poetry, Impact

Hurts - 3/15/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:27:00 +0000

HURTS
In a weak moment
I let my armor down

My exhaustion overpowering
The sense of self-protection

Her words shot inside
Struck like a thorn

Poison words slowly seep
Infecting my soul

Clouding my vision
Draining my strength

Making me feel unsafe
Afraid to be authentic

Categories: Poetry, Healing

Time - 3/10/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 18:23:00 +0000

Time

Time seems so short

So much to do

Little time to do it in

So many people needing

My time, my energy

Fighting to keep some for self

Wasting so much on trash

Activities unworthy

Of my time and attention

I must make it a priority

To remember:

Time

Limited

Categories: Poetry, Time

Words Unspoken

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Wed, 09 Aug 2006 03:11:00 +0000

Words Unspoken (written 8/8)

My face remains impassive
The mask of calm safely in place

My heart rages inside me
"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

The words from my mouth are quiet
Revealing nothing inside

My heart burns within me
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I sit beside you
As if nothing had ever happened

My heart breaks inside me
"I TRUSTED YOU!"

I find my dirty, worn shovel
Digging a grave
For the words in my heart

My heart softly cries out
"You hurt me"

As the last heap of dirt
Burys all traces
Of words unspoken

Categories: Poetry

Laughter - 2/14/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Thu, 15 Jun 2006 19:13:00 +0000

Laughter

Once so empty
Hollow
A mask to decieve
To hide the pain

Clung to tightly
As a powerful shield
Keeping pain out
Keeping the real person in

Once created to protect
It became a prison
Seperating aching wounds
From healing hands

Now genuine
True
Irrepresible

No longer a shield
But instead a great gift
Given to others

Bringing joy and hope
To others not yet healed
Showing the way
To their own healing

Categories: Poetry, Healing

Broken - 1/11/06

noreply@blogger.com (Jana B) — Fri, 26 May 2006 03:39:00 +0000

Broken
Reaching Out
Cutting
Wanting Only
To Connect
To Hold
To Touch
Finding Only
Pain

Healing Comes
Wholeness
Reaching Out
Connecting
Touching
Caressing
Healing

*Written 1/11/06 after a deep "morning page"*
*Thinking about "until I allow myself to be healed, I have nothing meaningful to give to others. Until my broken edges are healed, I can only hurt others when I try to reach out."*

Categories: Poetry, Healing