“You will never make it without anti-depressants” she said. (part I)

“You will never make it without anti-depressants” she said. (part I)

You will never make it without antidepressants.” 

These were my psychiatrist’s “words of encouragement” during our first session, when I uttered, between my tears, that I wanted to try to get through this without medication.

The five years prior to this meeting had been anything but a walk in the park.
I was the mother of a sensitive baby (then toddler) with big needs, and spent three years barely getting three consecutive hours of sleep.
My husband was going through his own mid-life crisis.
And I found myself at work sandwiched between a rock and a hard place.
I felt unappreciated, unsupported, unloved. Crushed under the weight of daily responsibilities, and, in many ways, alone.
So, what did I do? I kept going. When my friends and family asked me how I was doing, I would paint a big smile on my face and say: “I’m OK.”

But I wasn’t. My soul was weighing heavy with pain.

At some point, my body, heart and soul decided to take over the reins. If I was not going to pull those breaks and change something, they were going to do it for me. I found myself crying all the time; incapable of making the smallest of decisions; overwhelmed by everything.

Cooking. Noise. Music. TV. My own child.

The simplest of tasks, like sorting my books or shopping at the nearby supermarket felt like a mountain waiting to be climbed.


Source: quotevill.com

 

Reaching out

My family doctor said I was having a burn-out and needed to be hospitalised. “I don’t want to be away from my child”, I sobbed.
“I understand, she is still little”, she said. “You may want to consider a day-clinic then. Here’s a sick-leave note for your work. And here’s another note for your health insurance”.

My health insurance said it was a depression. Hospitalisation would be the easiest, they proclaimed. “Easiest for whom?!”, I wondered. A day-clinic stay, they explained, would involve a whole set of bureaucratic procedures which may take months. “But I want to be with my family”.

They didn’t care. Procedures come first.

I knew deep inside what I needed… and I knew I was not going to get it through State agents or health institutions. I needed to muster whatever energy I still had left in me and build myself my own individual web of support.

My initial emergency helpline, to get me through life one day at a time (sometimes one hour at a time), were my parents. With God’s grace, they moved from Egypt to Switzerland, two weeks after my mental collapse, into the apartment literally next door (same building, same floor). Say what you will, but I know I have God to thank for this nothing short of a miracle.

My second helpline was my psychotherapist, who was a wholesome, supportive and compassionate soul.

But my health insurance agent struck again: “We can’t pay for a psychotherapist. We only recognise psychiatrists”.

 

A big mistake

So, I left my trusted therapist, and poured my heart out to my new psychiatrist so she can tell me that medication was my only way out.

“They’re not a big deal”, she said, handing me some pharmaceutical pamphlet. But I knew from my counselling work that this wasn’t true. “I don’t want to take antidepressants” I repeated. “They often don’t work or act as a placebo, and they can have nasty side-effects. I want to try to do this without medication”.

“You will never make it without antidepressants.” she asserted.

I left her office gutted, feeling even more down than when I entered her office, dragging my lead-heavy legs back home.
She wouldn’t even look me in the eye. The whole time I was pouring my heart out, she kept looking at her watch. 

Upon my second visit to her office, sensing her uninterested gaze upon mine, I mustered all my courage and said:

“I will not be coming back here anymore.”

Her eyes widened: “Oh… that’s quite a surprise”. Really?  “I was counting on us working together over a longer period of time”. No, thank you! I’d rather use up my savings than be at your and the health insurance’s mercy.


Source: Pinterest, saved by Bloom Taliercio

 

Carving my way out.

It took me four months to regain a new sense of balance.

With the loving support of my parents, the compassionate ear of my therapist, with my husband and daughter by my side, encouraging friends who forced me out of my shell, and my faith in God.

I knew I needed a daily structure of some sort, so I don’t sink in the shifting sands of my muddled mind, wallowing in old miseries. So I read up on what type of activities clinics do, and created my own schedule, guided by what inspires me, gives me energy and a sense of purpose.

Feeling alive & creative

I started exercising in the morning.

Took up a painting class. And one of my friends coaxed me to sign up to a dance class she was visiting. Both of these activities allowed me to give form and colour to my pain and the hope I had within me. It was cathartic.

Re-igniting old passions

I started writing children’s books again, and joined a wonderfully supportive critique group online.

And honouring my love to learn, I joined all kinds of online courses on a variety of topics that interest me. Parenting courses. Writing courses. Coaching courses. Psychology courses. Happiness courses. Through these courses, I was able to connect to fellow students, their experiences and stories. Some of them have now become dear friends.

Gaining a new sense of purpose

I volunteered a couple of hours a week with the Salvation Army in the kitchen, serving lunch to school children and washing dishes. It felt good to be part of a supportive community, while feeling “useful” again.

Food for the soul

I researched silent retreats in my area, and found a beautiful home for nuns that opens to the public for silent days of prayer. So I joined them, and have been going there ever since. Contemplating. Chanting. Reflecting. Praying. Spending time in nature. Simply “being” in the silent warmth of other yearning souls. Seeking peace.

I joined an elderly church group for Bible study, whose members filled my heart with love and companionship, in the only way 70-year olds can.

And I created a “sacred” corner in my room. I covered my shrine with a cloth imprinted with Jesus’ picture, holding a benevolent look towards me. And I placed on it pictures of people I love, memorabilia that transposed me to a happier time, a cross and my Bible.
This corner became my retreat every morning and evening. I prayed. I cried. I talked to God about my pain. Reproached Him for allowing my suffering, begging Him to take it away.

He did,
eventually.

But more importantly, I know today, more than ever, that He guided and supported me through it all, so I can use that pain to metamorphose my life to what it is today.

I also made it a ritual to walk to a beautiful nearby Catholic church every day, sit inside the shrine (there was nobody else there), and read my Bible. It filled me with a sense of peace and calm, to visit my Father’s house and read His word in perfect stillness.

“Mon âme se repose en paix sur Dieu seul,
de lui vient mon salut.

Oui, sur Dieu seul mon âme se repose,

se repose en paix.”

It was hard! 

Please don’t get me wrong. None of this was easy! Getting myself out of the house to get to any one of those activities was excruciatingly hard.

Part of me just wanted to crawl into bed and never have to get up. I felt like I was being sucked into a dark cold hole, a bottomless pit. It’s scary when you are taken hostage by your own mind… and you don’t know how to make it stop or how to escape it. But I had to try… Whenever my mind wondered away into a dark alley or headed towards a cliff, I would either:

Get busy – with ANYTHING – reading, going to my parents’, cooking, exercising, taking a shower, …
Or
I would repeat a Bible verse over and over again. These were my favourite:

“Get behind Me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to Me. For your thoughts are not of the things of God, but the things of men.” (Matthew 16:23, Berean Literal Bible).

“The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1)

And Psalm 91.

One thing was certain, whenever I fell into one of my “dark episodes”, I needed to keep on moving. I needed to dust myself off and find a way out. Wallowing in that dark spot was not an option! For I knew if I did, I may end up losing myself in a “no man’s land”, with no return ticket.

Finding allies

My parents were critical allies for me, as were my listening/empathy partners. If you are curious what a listening/empathy partner is, check out this article and this one :). While the context of these articles is parenting, the principles explained can be used in any situation.

My husband was also of great support to me. It was difficult for him at that time to support me emotionally (he had his own “shit” to sort through, as he would say). But he was my rock: caring for our toddler pretty much single handedly; taking all necessary decisions so I didn’t have to face its oppressive pressure; and pushing me to get out of the house…

I don’t think I wanna go to the dance class today, I would mutter, curling up on our living room sofa, sinking deeper in my dark well.

“Of course you’re going! You love it once you’re there, don’t you”?

Yes, but I’m not sure I have the energy to get out. And it’s cold, was my excuse.

“Get dressed and go. You’ll love it. HY will also be there. And you don’t need to worry about K. (our daughter). I’m here”.

With a big sigh, I would lift my heavy legs off the couch, and drag my lifeless body out of the house.

But once I was in the dancing studio, HY would greet me with her big smile and we’d chat. And then J., our dance teacher, would show up, armed with his enthusiasm, positivity and, let’s face it, an incredibly toned body!
After some chit-chat, he would play the most heavenly music by Max Richter, while guiding our bodies to express themselves in a way that gave wings to my soul. Tears often came streaming down, as I gave shape to my pain and released it through movement.

I felt alive again, quickly wiping away my tears lest anyone notice.

 

Re-building my world

It took me four months.

They were the hardest four months of my life. But I made it out of the pit.

One day I woke up, and those emotions that laid so heavy on my chest felt all of a sudden lighter. I started to feel joy again. I started to make plans. I also knew I needed to make some changes in my life, starting with my job. I needed to learn to let people in. Give myself permission to share my needs and say “no” or “later”.

Little by little, I re-built my world… a new world… with a new sense of purpose and confidence that all things will work together for the good.

I still had ups and downs.

Some days were better than others.

But all in all, I knew I was on the right track, and that I will make it. Not because I’m especially strong or special. Sure, I refused to give in to the voice of despair thundering in my head, and I reached out for help. But I was also fortunate to have compassionate people around me, willing to support me, challenge me, and push me when I needed a push. And most importantly, my Faith in God and His healing words, helped sustain me as I re-built my world.


Brave – Winnie the Pooh and Piglet.
Source: Pinterest, saved by Marie-Louise Jaeger

 

Moving on

It’s been exactly 5 years since my burnout. And I pass by that psychiatrist’s office every day on my way to work.

And when I do, part of me wonders how it would be like if I were to walk up to her in her office and say:

“Remember me? Probably not… Five years ago, you sat here and told me that I would never make it through without antidepressants. Well, here I am to tell you that I did!
Just because you wear a white coat, doesn’t mean you know it all! You sure as hell didn’t know me!
Curiosity and Humility can go a long way.
Listening to your patients with genuine interest can go a long way.
Exploring with them the resources they have in themselves and around them can go a long way.
Showing up as a genuine human being can go a very long way.
Please don’t ever doubt the resourcefulness of your patients again, no matter how desperate or “broken” they may seem. Your job is to lift them up, not crush them down!”

Maybe one day, I will. Meanwhile, I’m just gonna keep on moving.

Recommended resources: 

Where do I belong: Ode to a chaotic world

Where do I belong: Ode to a chaotic world

I wrote this poem – Where do I belong – in a moment of deep sadness, feeling a sense of loss – lost in the world we live in, the values it espouses, the fears it harbors – loss of where to fit in. And so I dedicate this poem to all those who, like me, are searching for meaning in a chaotic world.

Where do I belong

Where do I belong
if not with Thee.

In a world of tumultuous
noise,
persistent flow of
information that carries
no knowledge,
no substance,
no creed.

A world of chaos,
unrest,
greed.
Where the deafening silence
of disconnection pervails.
Where compasses swirl around
in infinite confusion,
for haven’t you heard?
North has been cancelled,
discarded,
striken from existence,
relegated to superstition,
for who needs a North,
when every man is his own
master,
a world of as many true Norths
as sand on a beach.

Where do I belong
if not with Thee.

In a world where
anything and 
everything
goes,
where there is no right or wrong
but only subjective truths,
where liberalism, once an
aspiration, an
inspiration,
has become
the most tyrannical wave of all,
to judge, blame and shame,
nothing but BABEL all around, 
endless sounds of
nonsensical discourse,
self-righteousness,
pride.

A world where we believe
only what we see,
where scientism and materialism
rule the day,
where our mind
is
our brain,
our personality pure genetics,
a set of chemical interactions
that can be set and 
reset,
where man’s search for
meaning
is but a futile attempt
to fill the space till the
inevitable advent of our
expiration 
date.

Where do I belong
if not with Thee.

My soul stands here before you
in endless sadness,
screaming,
in pain,
mourning the loss
of our divine humanity,
our celestial compass,
our true North.

Man, as his own master,
is but a myth,
a lie,
no
wait…
we are masters!
We’ve mastered
violence,
deception,
excess,
injustice,
selfishness,
sightlessness,
the blind leading the blind.

No
wait…
there are those who
inspire us,
those who mastered
kindness,
mercy, and
love,
but how?

Could it be that they
mirror
the unseen,
act as a
vessel,
reflecting the light,
the beauty,
serenity, and
warmth
of a North outside themselves,
Thy true North,
that only hearts,
not minds,
can see.

Not where, but whom do I belong
if not to Thee.

————

Agape

New Year poems for a new beginning

New Year poems for a new beginning

2020 has been one strange year to say the least. So, in the spirit of last week’s Christmas poems, I thought I would share with you some of my favourite New Year poems as we welcome 2021

And I’ve also included a beautiful song by Voctave entitled This is My Wish / Let there be Peace on Earth. The lyrics, which I have added for you, are not only beautiful but also very suitable to our time. 

Happy New Year!

May God shower you and your loved ones with His many Blessings!

And may 2021 be a year of…
… Renewed Relationships,
… Social Closeness (not distancing),
… Hope &
… Inner Peace! 

Poem 1:  NEW YEAR

Another year is coming to a close.
We can forget our troubles and woes.

For me, this year was tough.
It brought many emotions, was tearful and rough.

Now another year is approaching fast.
Let’s hope it’s a New Year with love and health; let’s hope it’s a blast.

May all of your dreams come true
And you find peace and love in all that you do.

May this world know the gentle sound of a hush.
May it calm all its anger and slow its pace from the rush.

May we all hear the sound of joy
And push away all that hurts, all that destroys.

The New Year I hope will be good to us all.
Care and calm, a helping hand when we fall.

Listen more, slow down, and say I love you.
Stop for a moment; take a breath, take in the view.

Appreciate your family; tell them you care.
Do something exciting, a thrill or a dare.

Enjoy all that the New Year may give.
We have but one life, so let’s learn to live.

It’s a New Year, a brand new start.
Always remember, live and love from your heart.

Wishing each and every one a year to behold,
And may it be full of wonders for you to unfold.

Love, hugs, and kisses too…
A very happy New Year from me to you.

– A poem by Sandra Hearth (published in 2018)
on
familyfriendpoems.com

Poem 2: IN MEMORIAM,
[RING OUT, WILD BELLS]

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be

– A poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809 – 1892)
on
poets.org

 Poem 3: FAITH    

 Lord, give me faith!–to live from day to day,
 With tranquil heart to do my simple part,
 And, with my hand in Thine, just go Thy way.
 Lord, give me faith!–to trust, if not to know;
 With quiet mind in all things Thee to find,
 And, child-like, go where Thou wouldst have me go.
 Lord, give me faith!–to leave it all to Thee,
 The future is Thy gift, I would not lift
 The vail Thy Love has hung ‘twixt it and me.

 “I WILL!”

 Say once again Thy sweet “I will!”
 In answer to my prayers.
 “Lord, if Thou wilt!”–
 –“I will!
 Rise up above thy cares!”

 – A poem by William Arthur Dunkerly
on 
poetrycat.com

And here another beautiful song by Voctave that really fits the current season.
Lyrics are at the bottom.


THIS IS MY WISH / LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH

 

This is my wish 
My wish for the world 
That peace would find its way 
To every boy and girl 
This is the time 
The time for harmony 
Let love be the song 
That everybody sings 

Fill the air with joyful noise 
Bring the bells and raise your voice 
Let there be peace on earth 
Let there be peace on earth 

Lift your light and let it shine 
Let it shine, shine, shine 
Let every voice be heard 
Let there be peace on earth 

I hear the sweetest sound 
The sound of hope to come 
Together we could bring 
Goodwill to everyone 

Let it start with you 
Let it start with me 
Let every nation rise 
And sing this melody 

Fill the air with joyful noise 
Bring the bells and raise your voice 
Let there be peace on earth 
Let there be peace on earth

Lift your light and let it shine
Let it shine, shine
Let every voice be heard
Let there be peace on earth
Let every voice be heard
Let there be peace on earth 

Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me
Let there be peace on earth
A peace that was meant to be 

With God as our Father
Brothers all are we 

Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony 

Fill the air with joyful noise
Bring the bells and raise your voice
Let there be peace on earth
Let there be peace on earth 

Lift your light and let it shine
Let it shine, shine, shine
Let it Shine, shine, shine
Let it shine, shine, shine 

And every voice be heard
Let there be peace
Let there be peace On earth
And let it begin… With me.

The true meaning of Christmas: a new take on an old story

The true meaning of Christmas: a new take on an old story

Christmas has always been my favourite time of the year. Streets and homes are lit in bright colours. Chimneys and trees are decorated. Families who haven’t seen each other for some time meet again for some holiday cheer (or drama depending on your family :)). Children rejoice at their end-of-year school vacation and, of course,… PRESENTS! So, is that the true meaning of Christmas?

When I was a child…

… Christmas was a very special time. We didn’t celebrate Christmas on December 25, but December 31. It was a combined Christmas and New Year celebration, and I cherished every minute of it!

In those days, it wasn’t about the Christmas tree – in fact we never had one. Nor was it about the presents  – we didn’t have those either. Yet the house always buzzed with excitement and trepidation days before the big event. And everyone had a role to play.
My brother and I helped decorate our walls with all kinds of garlands – both Christmassy and New Year’s Eve-y.
And I would accompany my dad to Giza’s biggest open market. It had everything, and I mean EVE-RY-THING! The baker next to the car mechanic. The vegetable market across from the butcher’s. The live animal market down the street from your favourite textile store. 

Traditional Giza open market with a potato seller and buyers.
Vegetables market in Giza, Egypt.
Picture by Khaled Elfiqi / EPA

I loved following my dad through the market’s maze of dirt roads, jumping over potholes, soaking-in every scent, colour and noise.

The feast

“I see you bought half the market again!” my mother would exclaim as we entered the house laden with bags over bags of meat, fish, bread, vegetables, fruits and a plethora of delicious Egyptian sweets.

All of our close friends were about to gather at our home that evening. There was no doubt as to why we were meeting, and who or what we were celebrating. And as evening time neared, my excitement grew, for I knew my dad would soon take out his Tabla (Egyptian drum), and our home would be filled with music, songs and laughter.  Not to mention – delicious scents of the great feast that was awaiting us!
God had gifted himself to us in our own image – our mortal human form – so we can live forever. This was a time of great rejoicing and thanks giving!

It’s 5 minutes before midnight.

The music stops. The chatter breaks down. The house lights get shut. Candles are lit. Incense scents replace the earlier food smells. And we would all kneel down in our living room.

We kneel before God in prayer and praise

H. usually led the prayer, with everybody else chanting after him in beautiful harmony and unison, as we welcomed the New Year:

“Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh (I am who I am – Exodus 3:14)
Adonai (The Lord)
Sabaot (of Hosts/Powers)
El Shaddai (God Almighty)” (Hebrew)

“Almagd lellah fel 2a3ali, we 3ala el 2ard el salam, we belnas el massarra” (Arabic for Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men – Luke 2:14)

“Kodous Allah. Kodous el qawi. Kodous el 7ay allathy la yamout” (Arabic for Holy God. Holy the Strong. Holy the Living who does not die)

“Kyrie Eleison. Kyrie Eleison. Ya rab er7am” (God have mercy)

And many more…

True meaning of Christmas. Two Pillar Candles lit in the dark.
We kneel before God in prayer and praise.
Photo by Matej Novosad from Pexels

The true meaning of Christmas

This was the true meaning of Christmas to me as a child. A time of Joy and Rejoicing. A time of Community. A time of both loud and quiet celebration of the birth of Christ – the rebirth of humanity. A time of new and hopeful beginnings.

This year more than ever, tainted by Corona restrictions and lock-downs, I’ve come to an important aha moment. I’ve come to realise just how much the Christmas we celebrate today in Western societies, and in my own home for that matter, has nothing to do with the Christmas I learned to love and cherish so much as a child.

Christmas is meant to be all about celebrating Jesus – God incarnate. Our Redeemer. And Our Saviour. But, in a secular world, that’s precisely the bit we ignore, discard, or relegate to an ignorant superstitious past.

A tale of two Christmases

We seem to have at least two kinds of Christmases today:
the Secular one, and
the Christian one.

The Secular Christmas has become the most popular kind in my view. Where Christ-mas is X-mas. Where pine trees are decorated. Where Santa Claus (originally inspired by St. Nicholas) is reminiscent of some “pagan deity” who sees everything, knows who’s naughty or nice, and bares gifts to the “good” children all around the world. Where reindeers fly, and elves rule the toy production industry. We light the biggest Christmas trees to attract shoppers, so we can keep feeding our lucrative capitalistic venture. We enjoy kissing under a mistletoe, and exchange gifts. We might still get together with family for a drink or a meal. But Emmanuel – God is with us no one knows His name.

The Christian Christmas on the other hand has been relegated mainly to churches. We might enjoy nativity plays (well not this year). Sing Christian carols and celebrate special mass in church.
The Christian Christmas has become something you “go to”, and…
… then you’re done.
A temporary sense of Community, albeit an important one in a secular world where the belief in a Creator has become the exception rather than the rule.
And after the “Christian” bit is over, we go back home where the Christmas celebration and family reunion revolve again around the decorated Christmas tree and the gifts underneath.

I am not suggesting we get rid of either one of these forms of Christmas, and people often mix and match. But I am missing my childhood one. 

The Church within

Because I love Christmas so much, part of me is saddened that our secular society has managed to strip this celebratory act of all of its meaning; turning it into just another commercial gimmick to sell even more stuff no one needs. 

Yes, I miss my childhood Christmas.

Even though we did not go to Church that day, we WERE a Church! We gathered as believers, connected in Christ, to celebrate the birth of the greatest King of all. That was my true meaning of Christmas, and O! how I miss that.

My family is no stranger to the Secular Christian Christmas. My daughter and I go to Church (well, again not this year), sing a bunch of carols, get back home and open presents. My husband doesn’t believe in God, and so our home festivities are relegated to the secular type. Although I do get to have a handcarved wooden Manger at the feet of our Christmas tree.

Ironically, the secularisation of Christmas, with its Santas, Elves, Reindeers, and Trees has not necessarily made it any friendlier to non-Christians as it seems – see this article for one such perspective.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course, I enjoy the family reunions over Christmas around a good meal! But, that’s not the point. The point is…

I miss those Christmas/New Year celebrations of my childhood – this year more than ever. I miss…
… the friendly gathering. I miss…
… the laughters. I miss…
… the jokes. I miss…
… the singing. I miss…
… that sense of Community. I miss…
… the spiritual praise of our Lord.
I miss having Church within my home.

Maybe

Maybe it is in the waiting for God,
not in the wandering from store to store,
that we find our way.

Maybe it is in the friendship of God,

not in the frenzy of crowds,
that we are led to go to the manger.

Maybe it is in the steadfast love of God,
and not in the pile of stuff under the tree,
that we find what we have been searching for all our lives.

Maybe, just maybe, God of Advent,
this year will be different.

Maybe, just maybe,
we will let you lead us to Bethlehem.

– Thom Shuman

I wish you all a Merry Christmas! May your lives be filled with Peace. Love. And God’s many Blessings. 

O COME LET US ADORE HIM, CHRIST THE LORD IS BORN!

Christmas poems to inspire the uninspired in Corona 2020

Christmas poems to inspire the uninspired in Corona 2020

I have loved poems since I was eight. I remember that moment so distinctly: my 3rd grade teacher picking a white chalk, and putting our first poem down on our classroom’s blackboard. I was immediately captured by the beauty of the art of writing poems – stanzas, rythm and rhyme. Little did I know that 30 years later, I would start writing my own. 

The below selection of four Christmas poems are not my own, but the beautiful work of William Arthur Dunkerley, aka John Oxenham. Courtesy of poetrycat.com. Hope you will enjoy them.

Merry Christmas!

Poem 1:  CREDO

 

Not what, but WHOM, I do believe,
That, in my darkest hour of need,
Hath comfort that no mortal creed
To mortal man may give;–
Not what, but WHOM!

For Christ is more than all the creeds,
And His full life of gentle deeds
Shall all the creeds outlive.
Not what I do believe, but WHOM!

WHO walks beside me in the gloom?
WHO shares the burden wearisome?
WHO all the dim way doth illume,
And bids me look beyond the tomb
The larger life to live?–

Not what I do believe,
BUT WHOM!
Not what,
But WHOM!

– A poem by William Arthur Dunkerly on poetrycat.com

Poem 3:  THE CHRIST

The good intent of God became the Christ.

And lived on earth–the Living Love of God,
That men might draw to closer touch with heaven,
Since Christ in all the ways of man hath trod. 

– A poem by William Arthur Dunkerly on poetrycat.com

Poem 2: A SILENT TE DEUM
  

We thank Thee, Lord,
For all Thy Golden Silences,–

For every Sabbath from the world’s turmoil;
For every respite from the stress of life;–
Silence of moorlands rolling to the skies,
Heath-purpled, bracken-clad, aflame with gorse;

Silence of grey tors crouching in the mist;
Silence of deep woods’ mystic cloistered calm;
Silence of wide seas basking in the sun;
Silence of white peaks soaring to the blue;
Silence of dawnings, when, their matins sung,
The little birds do fall asleep again;
For the deep silence of high golden noons;

Silence of gloamings and the setting sun;
Silence of moonlit nights and patterned glades;
Silence of stars, magnificently still,
Yet ever chanting their Creator’s skill;
For that high silence of Thine Open House,
Dim-branching roof and lofty-pillared aisle,
Where burdened hearts find rest in Thee awhile;

Silence of friendship, telling more than words;
Silence of hearts, close-knitting heart to heart
Silence of joys too wonderful for words;
Silence of sorrows, when Thou drawest near;
Silence of soul, wherein we come to Thee,
And find ourselves in Thine Immensity;

For that great silence where Thou dwell’st alone–
–Father, Spirit, Son, in One,
Keeping watch above Thine Own,–
Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords
Of praise beyond the reach of human words;
In our souls’ silence, feeling only Thee,–

We thank Thee, thank Thee,
Thank Thee, Lord!

– A poem by William Arthur Dunkerly on poetrycat.com

Poem 4: THE CHILD OF THE MAID

On Christmas Day The Child was born,
On Christmas Day in the morning;–
–To tread the long way, lone and lorn,
–To wear the bitter crown of thorn,
–To break the heart by man’s sins torn,
–To die at last the Death of Scorn.
For this The Child of The Maid was born,
On Christmas Day in the morning.

But that first day when He was born,
Among the cattle and the corn,
The sweet Maid-Mother wondering,
And sweetly, deeply, pondering
The words that in her heart did ring,
Unto her new-born king did sing,–

“My baby, my baby,
My own little son,
Whence come you,
Where go you,
My own little one?
Whence come you?

Ah now, unto me all alone
That wonder of wonders is properly known.
Where go you?
Ah, that now, ’tis only He knows,
Who sweetly on us, dear, such favour bestows.
In us, dear, this day is some great work begun,–
Ah me, little son dear, I would it were done!
I wonder … I wonder …
And–wish–it–were–done!

“O little, little feet, dears.
So curly, curly sweet!–
How will it be with you, dears,
When all your work’s complete?

O little, little hands, dears,
That creep about my breast!–
What great things you will do, dears,
Before you lie at rest!

O softest little head, dear,
It shall have crown of gold,
For it shall have great honour
Before the world grows old!

O sweet, white, soft round body,
It shall sit upon a throne!
My little one, my little one,
Thou art the Highest’s son!
All this the angel told me,
And so I’m sure it’s true,
For he told me who was coming,–
And that sweet thing is YOU.”

On Christmas Day The Child was born,
On Christmas Day in the morning;–
–He trod the long way, lone and lorn,
–He wore the bitter crown of thorn,
–His hands and feet and heart were torn,
–He died at last the Death of Scorn.
But through His coming Death was slain,
That you and I might live again.
For this The Child of The Maid was born,
On Christmas Day in the morning.

– A poem by William Arthur Dunkerly on poetrycat.com

 

The gifts of grief

The gifts of grief

No life is devoid of pain and sorrow. But why? For what purpose?
So I imagined: What if Grief wrote us a letter? What would she want us to know?
Here’s what she had to say.

The gifts of grief

Many people don’t like me.
Don’t appreciate me.
They cast me aside,
Rejected.
Neglected.
Despised. 

But I ask you this:
Without me,
how would you recognise
Joy? Without me,
how would you feel
Regret? Without me,
how would you show
Forgiveness? Unearth Patience?
Cultivate Hope? Without me,
how would you know
Love?

I know my load can feel heavy and difficult to bear.
I wish it didn’t have to be that way… Yet
Pain is, and always has been, the
precursor of change and growth.

You may not always see it that way, but
you need me.

 You need me to cleanse you from your pain.

You need me to clear that fog, that
opaque armour on your soul.

You need me, so you can see more clearly,
Re-arrange that house of cards you’ve built so neatly,
Tear down that fence you’ve put up
around your heart. 

You need me.

So, next time I visit please don’t shun me away. Instead…

… Embrace me! 

Allow me to flow through you,
Imbue you with my wisdom and care. 

For when you do.
When you accept my gifts of love,
diving into the depths of Your Soul,
Your Humanity. Your Vulnerability.
Your Unadulterated Beauty,

You Will Shine!