The Honest Poet

This category focuses on essay, poems and prose.

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Life’s Alluring Invitation

/ Rebekah Brackett / 2 Comments

Photos by Brackett Studios: {Passing By} Series

In a breath, we are swept off our feet:

Eternity pulls back her fine curtain, winking,

And the unutterable clutches at our chest,

Swirling and spinning our insides up

Like frothed passion foaming,

Swift and intoxicating.

We are caught staring point blank

Into the Eyes Who See All,

And awakening to that holy gaze,

Our exposure splits us wide open —

Head to toe,

Spirit to soul to mind to dust;

All rushes to the surface

To receive that engulfing Kiss of Life —

No part left behind.

And I want to drown in It —

And submerged, to give up the struggle —

Stop the flailing and panicked fear,

And find:

I was born to breathe under this tidal flow.

Homebound, winding upon those country roads

Held within ripe cornfields growing lush and tall,

Clouds layered and danced within

Piles and piles and piles of storm-clouds

Like some mystical parfait

Stacked as wide and high and deep as Heaven —

The kind of treat you’d climb up in

To eat from inside out,

And to top it off,

Those setting sunbeams kept pushing through,

Painting a stunning, living, shifting canvas:

A complete gift of unexpected awe.

And my heart took flight —

Involuntary, urgent, primal —

Right out of this frame of molecules

Miraculously bouncing in tight contraction,

And despite the Law of Gravity,

With that great Sky I melded —

My body quivering,

My mouth overflowing with laughter,

My eyes begging to remember

Every delicious split second,

My spirit flung wide-open,

Engulfed in Mystery, drowning in bliss —

For in the midst of the Unknown,

Glory broke forth,

A radiant freedom enfolding,

An encounter with Love’s liberating embrace,

As deep cried out unto deep —

Oh! The longing in these weighted, throbbing bones!

Oh! The ecstasy within Your manifest Presence!

Here I am —

Tethered to this dying Earth —

Yet forever One with The Sublime.

— Life’s Alluring Invitation —

Poem by Rebekah Brackett

Distant Hope

/ Rebekah Brackett / 2 Comments

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“Distant Hope” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

Weary, I yet search.

Stumbling, I continue forward.

Onward, I glance back again;

Are You there?

 

The largest organ of me is hidden from sight –

It is not the covering of these frail bones and sinews of broken memories;

It is the ever-evolving Spirit of You, of me,

Melded as One –

Or so I used to believe.

 

You seduce; I am easily flustered.

You whisper; I fear the loss of mental solidity.

You shine; I feel warmth on the surface,

But the light loses power in my core darkness.

You create dreams; I break them.

You become my home; I wander.

 

“The human spirit is stronger than we realize,” they prattle to me.

Can’t they see how shattered and worn-out I am?

I see a vision of a house in the distance

Which once portrayed all meaning of “home” to me.

Now it mocks as the feet turn into yards and the yards turn into miles

Between safety and the wild wilderness in which I am entrapped.

Alas – my legs are crippled by unbelief,

My arms weakened from years of neglect

To nurture hope or build up courage –

Both of which must be exercised over time in order to realize

Any meaningful effect.

 

Perhaps I could cry out for a neighbor to carry me home;

But no one is there is hear my call.

Perhaps I should give up and give in to despair;

That is what my aching heart is screaming.

But something more – something calm, still, resilient –

Persists within me.

It will be my undoing –

It could be my salvation.

 

Hope remains alive.

I can still see home…

All is not lost –

I might still be found.

Travel On Home

/ Rebekah Brackett / 1 Comment

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“Longing” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

Along the winding ribbon we chase

Sunlight and storm-clouds colliding;

Fingers intertwine, wind-swept hair dances,

Smiles and sideway glances linger

Until we reach the crescendo of mountains’ rising.

Here we pause, hearts yearning into the wide-open

Horizon,

Dreams arching high as the rock-face distance plunging –

Here we hold our breath, aching to find the answers

To hidden questions dark as the wooded reprieves below…

Will we ever know?

The clouds lower and tensions rise

In the seen and unseen and everything in between.

There is dissonance in the meeting of darkness and light,

In the marrying of rearview mirror and distant mirage –

The future so close, we almost grasp it,

The measure of which is miles and miles and miles away.

It’s only from here to there, they say –

It’s just a twinkle of the eye,

Or as the crow flies,

In the sweet by and by –

Oh, sigh!

Longing and a shudder and grief invade –

Winds whip cold; grey and green and violet churn,

But you take my hand, and my sorrows fade –

We are the future, the here and now;

What dreams may come, what loss is felt,

Cliffs and coves and peaks and falls,

We travel on,

Home.

Praise to My Savior

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment

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“Quiet Repose” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

Oh, Great Artist!

You, who buried me in Life’s fertile soil,

Who whispered secrets to my hidden heart —

You wooed me to trust You in the great unknown,

And in my letting go,

You freed me from my seeds’ conflicted constraints.

Now from deep darkness I bloom in radiant light,

My buds wholly yielded to Your compelling grace.

In quiet repose, my tender petals and leaves unfurl;

Death’s pangs are forgotten as my roots anchor deep.

Your glory grows through my multi-layered unfolding —

My life bursts forth to proclaim Your praise!

All That Remains

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment

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“Light in Darkness” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

Smoke permeated the air, billowing up and spreading its grey chaos throughout the woods. I walked through it, eyes blinking fast and short coughs pushing up my throat. I clutched my camera tight, avoiding lifted roots and hidden stumps, and stepped into the deep, cool, green forest. My perspective cleared as the sun’s rays danced upon the remains of logs and twigs and pieces of old newspaper. It was a brilliant, beautiful moment — the collision of fading day with the ghost of wood, burnt and smoking up to heaven. The trees seemed to sigh, leaning into the last light of day, embracing the sun’s warmth while the remains of their kind wafted between their tender bows. “We are here, then we are gone away,” they whispered. “All that remains is ash and dust caught up by light and air.” Solemnity filled my child heart. “And so shall I be,” I echoed.