Category Archives: writing

What Once Was

 

Ashes to the ground then to the sky
While this fire it burns,
And the wild cry of Camelot rises
From the ruins of what once was
England’s glory and pride
Because peace and wisdom were sought after
And fought for,
A King wanting that for his people.

But Lady Peace and Lady Wisdom,
War is in this country of yours.
Blood is the color of your skies, Camelot,
As tempers are lost and no one seems
To seek for you, Lady Wisdom;
And your quiet strength, Lady Peace,
Are not in many of the hearts of men,
But instead mayhem – the Devil’s tool and foothold.

Lives are lost and sacrificed, and the living
Forget how to breathe
As they focus that the ones they love
Are dead and not coming back,
And not on what their loved ones gave to them
When they were with them.
So sacrifices made for them and the love
That was given are forgotten as if it were nothing.

O Camelot, O Camelot,
Why did you do that?
Why did you not trust your King?
Why did you take the lies for truth, and truth for lies?
Why did you lose what you should have
Held onto, and yourself?
Trust the hope that was waiting for you in this darkness?
That God would take you by the hand to lead you?

Will you do it again, though, like you once did before?
Will you believe with me, borrow what is mine and what I have
To help you in these journeys that we both have?
Will you slip your hand into His hand, Someone oh so beyond all this
That we know and everything else?
Borrow my smile, my laughter, my hope, my faith, and my peace?
Just take it, my love; I want to give you these flowers
That you’ve seen and grown to know that I love.

You’ve pushed Lady Wisdom aside during this time,
Getting caught by all that is happening –
Will you listen to her now, though, to her sharing her heart?
That this suffering we see is not for nothing,
Unless we make into nothing, though?
Because if you make the suffering and sacrifices that have happened
Into nothing, just like that,
Then it will be nothing to you when all along
It was something real in this world we live in to hold onto.

4/1/16

Clad in a chess-covered jacket,

Growing with ferns and moss on it
As I rub my hands,
Covered in chocolate cookies
And tears
Because of worry that I will turn
Into an icicle if they continue
To keep the freezing winds blowing.
But the black moths lead me
To a way that I can escape to,
Will someone burn the night away?
I seem to be afraid,
And the light burning the night
And leaving the stars to fall
Will help me see and wide awake.
A white shirt is bright as I wear it.
Coffee black and egg white,
Tired grey.
Tomorrow’s not yesterday –
Well, hopefully not, oui?
Tuck me in a frame of memories
If the day today is like yesterday,
So that I will not have to be
In a day that is the same.
Same old same,
I am tired of the same things,
Of bears growling at each other
Of the same things over again –
A paper shield will be covered
In my tears too
And my wooden sword
Will be worn from the same battles.
Will my Knight in Shining Armor
Be able to save me from the dragons
That have kidnapped me?
Will my Knight still love me
Even when the walls are still
Around me
Even though I try to tear them down
With my own hands?
Whisper me the answers,
Sir Owl;
Tickle my ears with your feathers
And peck into my stubborn head
The answers of
How to be wise
And not be like a donkey,
But me.
 . . .
A/N: Because He can leap over your walls, the walls that were never meant to be there. He can leap over your walls, He can walk through your walls, He can and will comfort you.

I See the Dandelion Blooming

Dullness starts to settle in,

and I think the whole world
is gray and black
as I feel life leaving me –
and I think how ironic
that I feel like that life
is leaving me,
just as spring comes
and is here.
. . .
I am sitting here,
waiting for something
that I don’t even know,
and I am wasting away;
wanting to wait
for the daisies to bloom,
but the heartache
is still there –
I still miss you.
. . .
I wait for the daisies
to bloom,
but they don’t come.
It isn’t the time for them –
and I wonder,
was I actually waiting for you,
all along?
And was I waiting to see
if you still wanted to be with me?
. . .
The buildings rise up
in the air,
I see that through the window,
but I am still down
on the ground.
I think the world
is gray and black,
the skies being white;
but then I see the color yellow.
. . .
I see dandelions blooming,
and they are in her hair.
The dandelions
are already blooming,
and they are here.
Gray and white and black
are not the only colors
in my world
and that I see.
Am I wanting to not miss you? No, I don’t want that. I don’t want to not miss you. I just miss you. I miss you. And I’m scared as I write this, and I don’t exactly know why I’m scared.
A/N: This was a poem that I wrote two or three days ago. I’m not sure if it makes sense, for to me it almost doesn’t make sense; but this is just something that I wrote a few days ago. Thank you for  reading this if you are, for it means much to me that people have read my writings and read my writing s when they do.

Meditation

 

Snow falls in great white blossoms to the sea,
budding slowly as they fall and disappear,
but they turn into stars –

shining in the daytime, as well in the night,
drenched in sunlight, becoming sunlight
in a strange green darkness of sea;

and I lay on an ocean of stars,
on beds of breathing waves,
looking up to something more and beautiful

and seeing paths of gold in the sky,
leading to home, leading to heaven
as the sun sets and dies.

A flower is stirred and a star is troubled,
and useless rage is tempered by patience,
by a great ring of pure and endless light

that blinds the darkness in my heart
and kills inside of me
what needs to be dead, what needs to die.

Eyes are closed and fingers brush the sky,
and a broken heart heals –
hope like an open, eternal flower.

 

A/N: The name of the poem maybe a bit terrible. I am sorry if it is. If you have suggestions for the name, please feel free to share if you wish to share. I hope you enjoy it.

-Nichi

1/22/16

Sitting in the mud, my friend,

and reaching for the stars,

fingers brushing

the sky –

 

and disorder comes to order,

peace comes to chaos,

the storm comes to an end.

 

It doesn’t matter

that weapons stab

at my heart,

 

and the feeling of being incomplete and hurt

was just familiar

a few moments ago.

 

Because I am complete –

though, fallen, I have learned to fly,

and star-dust envelopes me now

as I go to you, my God –

 

the only whom I can go to

and trust when the anger and hurt

are familiar as these broken hands.

 

A/N: I am sorry that I have not posted in a very long time. A lot happened, haha, sigh; but I am not trying to and do not want to use that as an excuse. I apologize for not posting in a long time.

 

Care

{June 24, 2015}

It’s hard to know how to take of yourself, when one hardly sees anyone or one, truly taking of themselves.

It’s one thing to say that you’ll take care of yourself, but another to do so. It’s easier to say that you’ll take care of yourself than to actually, truly taking care of yourself.

That I can connect to.

More than once, I promised other people that I would take of myself, but then I would do the opposite: hate myself, push myself more than needed, be hard on myself, not take care of myself physically like I was suppose to.

All that and more.

“You cannot possibly imagine exactly how much I hate myself.”  

When I found this on the Website, I could connect to this a lot.

I hated myself so much back then because I thought everything was my fault and I made so many mistakes; and I didn’t like that I made mistakes. I though I was a burden, a problem.

A monster. A puzzle. A question. A mistake, and so many more lies.

I hated myself. I didn’t like myself, let alone love myself.

How could I love or like the girl I was, when I was a monster? When I was a depressed, teen-aged girl who had problems and baggage?

A problem, a puzzle, a question, a mistake, a burden?

How could I love myself and forgive myself?

I thought I would never be able to love myself and forgive myself. I thought it was not possible, and that it would never happen and that it could never happen.

But then something changed. Something started changing, and has always been changing ever since I said yes to God.

I started asking myself, “How could I keep on loving God and hate myself?”  Or God started asking me this question: “How can you love Me and hate yourself?”

To love God and hate yourself isn’t possible; it’s not because He’s Love.

Somewhere along the way, I changed and yet at the same time did not change.

I changed to myself, changed to who I was always meant to be. I changed into becoming myself, all because of God.

And because of God, I started loving myself for His sake; because He considered and considers my heart a treasure of the Kingdom, I do too. I start to consider my heart as a treasure of His Kingdom because He does.

I start loving myself because He loves me. I start taking care of myself because I know He deeply loves me.

I have started loving myself for His sake.