Poem

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!

A Place Where Love Reigns

/ Rebekah Brackett / Leave a comment
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“A Place Where Love Reigns” | Photo by Rebekah Brackett, Brackett Studios

I long for a place known only by my dreams. A place where love reigns and the wide, open spaces of the soul expand and expand infinitely. The home where my heart is fully known, fully understood and fully accepted. The world in which I completely love my God and my neighbor, and yes — a world where I even truly love myself. So I call Heaven to come to Earth, to this mountain home where I feel so lost sometimes. I tell myself to breathe; to notice how the sun keeps rising and setting, how the world keeps turning without any thought to its schedule or timing; how the grasses and wildflowers move and sway in the evening breeze. I tell my heart to “hush” and embrace stillness and sit with the discomfort of the Unknown until Peace permeates every fiber of my being. Oh, beloveds… In this place, may I remind you: We are not alone.✨

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.