Trespassing Darkness

Oh, the thoughts I do not write out loud

The thoughts concealed from others

yet not wholly hidden

The ones weighed heavy

discontent

threatening breath and life


How I'd love to will them away

but no

It doesn't happen that way

I wish it did

It's a lazy desperation

while mired in imaginings

standing as shadow over this heart


Darkness and shadow...


Yes, sometimes I venture there

staying far too long

Roots fingering down

demanding vindication

lengthening oppression

These are not friendly roots

The shadow unsafe

I know this well


For truth stands vigilant

when mind cries vigilante

Truth stands still

and stills my heart

Stills roots that seek

to bind in stealth

...make bitter


How despised, this place I choose to go

These thoughts that trespass holiness

For in them I trespass darkness...

another's kingdom


I have no haven here

Gossamer

~Dedicated to my beautiful Jillian, my joy who came after the sorrows.

Gossamer:  n. a soft sheer gauzy fabric…something delicate, light, or flimsy...a fine film of cobwebs often seen floating in the air...adj. sheer, light, delicate, or tenuous.

Gossamer

Phone rings

Chafes the scar 

Yesterday's pain unburied

Precious life

Gossamer

Cradled on wisp, away

Oh these cobwebs 

Memories woven

Joy to sorrow unraveling

Relentless night

The flow of life

Ebbs soft, in shawl of pain

Though day reveals

Heart made raw

Wrapped in tattered garment

Beyond the weave

Soul will see

His wings unfurled, unchanging  

~B. DesChamps

  June 23, 2011

...that which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave.”  ~Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

While my son was very young and before we were blessed with Jillian, I cried through two miscarriages nearly a year apart. So long ago… And now my lovely daughter knows that same ache, and that far off pain feels like yesterday.

I'm so sorry, Jilly...

Through it all, I will stand by Jillian and share her tears. For if I’m willing to rejoice fully with those who rejoice, I must be willing to mourn deeply with those who mourn, or I live only half a life. Life is joy, wonder, and laughter. Life is sorrow, loss, and tears. I must embrace it all to fully live.  

And I desire that she should learn to live as well; to dance the dance of life…and be healed. Grace can teach us both to dance with loss as gracefully as with joy.  And while we’re learning, Jesus will take our hands, kiss our dampened cheeks, and hold our hearts to His.

Echoes

I hear the echoes of the voices

of children laughing

children playing

See furrowed brows

thoughtful poses 

three grown ups in the making

Remember music 

Sofa listening

endless nights of earnest praying

With sentiment near to sadness

      I miss them some today...

But I love to hear the echoes of the voices

of children laughing

children playing