by Naomi S.

a young girl in Italy.

 

HOPE

If I could go back…

back to when my wide eyes

peered at the world,

trusting,

innocent,

wholehearted….

If I could go back,

back to when nobody,

nobody had stepped in

and whispered delicious poison

in my ears…

If I could go back…

back to when I was still a flower,

petals whole,

all in one place…

I’d tell you.

I’d tell you everything.

The pain. 

The heartache, the brokenness.

The searching.

The hatred.

The burning in my chest. 

The bitterness of

being told

you aren’t enough,

and knowing

it’s true. Too true.

Friends are only for a moment,

they aren’t there

for you,

but for themselves.

I’d tell you about the goodbyes,

the pain,

the ache I couldn’t fill.

The loneliness in the place

I was told

to call home.

Yes.

I would tell you.

I would tell you about the humiliation,

the grief,

the wondering,

the tears,

the ache in the absence of tears.

I’d tell you about the pain

of loving

and losing when you need love

the most,

and not knowing the future,

and wondering…

wondering if love would ever come.

Telling you would crush you.

But am I not crushed?

Yes.

I am crushed.

I am broken.

I am shattered.

My petals are scattered

in different homes.

What is home anyway?

I would tell you about it all

and not hide one word.

Not one word.

But then,

after all the heartache,

and pain,

and loss,

and goodbyes,

and lies…

…then…

Then I would tell you…

I’d tell you about picking myself up.

I’d tell you about the One

who took me,

loved me,

showed me,

healed me,

exposed my lies,

held my hand,

transformed the pain,

the loss,

the goodbyes,

into scars.

Scars of loss,

of love,

of healing,

of losing myself

to find myself. 

I’d tell you about the growth,

daughter of pain,

the flower

born from the ashes,

strong

because of the flames,

because of the pain.

I’d tell you about the comfort,

the healing,

the love brought by true friendship,

the care,

the words

that leave me speechless,

heart bursting each time.

“Your worth is not in yourself”.

I’d tell you about Christ,

about his loss

and my gain because of it.

I would tell you everything.

About heartache,

loss,

pain,

tears,

ache,

loneliness,

emptiness.

I’d tell you about hope.

 

Notes from the author:

“I’d love if you shared the poem on your blog! Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. I’ve only ever written rhyming poetry, but I started trying free verse because I like playing around with the rhythm…I actually didn’t think much of it when I wrote it months ago, but coming back to it last week, I though you might enjoy reading it.”

“…how Christ changes a broken heart through redemption…that is exactly what the poem is meant to portray.”

 

What are YOUR thoughts?

 

 

 

jh