The days of darkness as I call them.  When I spent over a year and a half in this or that institution. When Bipolar wasn’t the only diagnoses they tried to slap on me.  I had an edge to me.  Not just to my attitude or my mouth because believe me that was there.  Rather an edge to my writing.  To my poetry.  Granted they were deeply dark, gruesome and had an ugliness to them that to read now would make me weep for that girl.  At that time I liked it,  Because I could write, I could create things other than the written word.  It made me feel alive somehow when my soul felt dead.

10 years later.  Saved.  Alive in Christ and dead to the days of darkness.  I find myself depressed, stuck and sad sometimes because I cannot create now like I could then.  I want to create like I did then.  Minus the ugly, twisted and haunting words.  Yet I find myself stuck.  Almost hopeless feeling that the only thing I will ever be able to write is a story like post filled with “I said’s and she said’s and he said’s” or me telling my story, story style.  This has depressed me for a long time.  I would never want to go back to those dark days but to have the ability to write like that again………

I did write one thing, a poem awhile ago and I thought I would put it out here and share it.  Be bold and courageous.  And if ya’ll think it sucks then I have a jumping off point right?



It’s Heavy

Stripped Bear

To the Core


From an Unlikely Place

a God Man

Stripped Down

Nailed to the cross


Just like Me

At His Core

My Loss

Became His Loss

Tears Shed

Blood Shed

A Sacrifice

Hope Rises up


That was written sometime last spring I think.  Things were horrible at that point and my words just came out.  I go back and forth between how I feel.  However I do that about everything in my life so I’m not so worried!

As Always,