The destruction is still there

The pain

The death

I can not stay in the Eye

I step out

Swirling winds are all consuming

Throwing me around senselessly 

The noise drowns out any peace 

The debris crowds my vision until all I see is destruction

This hurricane spins me around endlessly 

In my mind…

The water surges and grows

Rising higher and higher

Swallowing me whole

Until I sink beneath the waves

Struggling 

Drowning

I reach out my hand 

My final breath bubbling in front of me

A warm hand grabs me 

I feel my head breaking the surface

I breathe 

The hand guides me through the wind

And the noise

And the water

It offers me a home

A safe place

A sanctuary 

The hurricane feels like a distant memory…

Then the eye tries to take me again 

But the Hand will not allow it

The Hand will never let go

The Hand will ALWAYS save me.

The post The Hand appeared first on GirlSpring.

drags in a new era with the gray,

where the cold dew of winter dusk

slowly fades 

to the beaded light 

of reluctant dawn,

reflected in drops of rain 

left from a fresh pour,

cleansing time clean,

dripping between the gaps

of my fingers,

running my dry mouth wet,

relentless,

a beginning with no certain promises,

another notch added to my belt,

as I tell myself

“no matter”

still clutching onto the last shades of hope 

for revolution and change

to shock life 

back into dead dreams

and cure a drought with a single shower. 

The post New Year’s Eve appeared first on GirlSpring.

The trees are twinkling

The lights are sparkling

The snowflakes are falling

Children waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap

Parents shopping for presents in department stores

Carolers singing their favorite songs to strangers

Inflatable elves are waving from store fronts

Plastic reindeer are bounding in your neighbor’s yard

Plush snowmen are adjourning the surface of every restaurant counter

The lights and noise are mesmerizing

They are distracting 

In a forgotten corner a little baby lays in a manger

He is precious and small

Yet he is King of Israel 

He is the greatest gift given to the world

He is absolute perfection

He is love incarnate 

He is the only hope we need

He is the only peace we have

He is the only joy we know

He is all we need

He is all we desire

He is all we crave

He came to join us

He came to love us

He came to save us

The lights and noise try to be mesmerizing

They try to be distracting

Do not let them

Do not let the baby stay in the dusty corner

Do not forget the real reason to celebrate

The post The Forgotten Reason appeared first on GirlSpring.

Meet me in the meadow.
Where we were young and pure.
When life didn’t burn to the same degree as when we were 5.
Who could stop us from being us?

Just two little kids chasing dreams.
Believing in Santa and the Tooth Fairy.
Let’s sprint through the labyrinth like when we were 10,
where age does not matter, and we could just be free.

Let’s roll in the Myosotis oblongata
So that the memories will flow
Come back to the forefront
With powers of blinding gold

I dust off the gypsophila that don’t matter
Since you’re not pure anymore
Not since you tried to disintegrate the flowers
Attempting to erase you and me from this land of memories

I fold your hands over your heart
Act like you’re only sleeping
Or just breathing slow
As I cover you in Papaver rhoeas

You quietly seep into the ground
The vines rising up and making you part of them.
Your soul answer to their bludgeoning call,
that you could never ignore.

No matter how many times tried to command
this meadow of possibilities.
Now they’re here to prove to you once and for all that
you could never dominate what’s already been set in stone.

The post Greenhouse Overflowing with Time appeared first on GirlSpring.

and time sifts through my fingers

falling

as swiftly

as the golden burned leaves

struggle to fly off branches

the world

spins out of my control,

silk blue

swallows my head

I hold out my hand,

expectantly,

and a single leaf

drifts and catches

in some hole in my heart

my hand tightens,

it crunches against my dry palm

I cling

to desperation

to hope

for a better season.

The post Under the Oak Tree: A Poem appeared first on GirlSpring.

she looks in the mirror

But the girl she sees staring back,

is not who she once was

The grass beneath her feet,

the sound of her mother calling her back inside because it’s too dark

is replaced by scrolling endlessly

and full agendas

Stress, anxiety, fear,

all things that the girl she once was never had

When overcommitment was a word she could not spell

When missing school caused a celebration,

not long nights of extra work

When the blue sky was not replaced by navy folders

She didn’t realize that

her time in the sun was fleeting

Yet, amidst the replacements,

the girl that once was sits in her heart

And as she steps into the sun,

and feels the grass beneath her feet,

she realizes the girl that she still is.

The post The Girl That She Still Is appeared first on GirlSpring.

Born of Soil, Sun, Soiled Sun

In the beginning, was the creation of heaven and earth.
Raw and reaching, pulled from the hollow hush.
Of earth, I came through the jagged jaws of the splintered stone, through fissures coughing up the breath of an everlasting joyous sun.
My skin was pressed from the caverns who guided the underground, damp and rich.
Stitched, with roots that stretched, alive.
The rivers ran, keeping my spirit true, the main source of my youth.
My fingertips kissed by the blue hush of dawn.
And when the wind curled against my back, it did not howl—it sang.
A hymn that felt like love.
I was Soil.

In the beginning, was the creation of heaven and earth.
Sunlight pooled in the valleys of my skin,
gold dripping, spilling, making me something more than stone and soil.
Trees grew thick at my spine, arms outstretched, aiming to graze the heights of heaven.
Clouds stitched themselves into the corners of my mind,
lazy and laughing, rolling figurative shadows over the grass.
The rivers carried my secrets downstream, delivered them to the sea,
where the waves cradled them, quiet and knowing.
I was everything and endless.
I was Sun.

In the beginning, was the creation of heaven and earth.
Soon time and I started a game of tag, and I never seemed to win.
Hungry and hurried they came,
touch peeled the green from my ribs,
cut open my breath and left me gasping in the dark.
The trees, once outstretched, bowed their heads in surrender.
Smoke curled in my lungs, immensely thick and choking,
They split my once powerful bones, carved them hollow,
pulled light from my veins and called it theirs.
They built themselves ladders, to climb through life,
while the very soul of my body was stripped.
A new distorted hymn I did not know.
I was Soiled.

In the beginning, was the creation of heaven and earth.
Though fractured and sore, I will not accept ruin.
I press seed to soil, whisper to the roots,
teach the wind my name again.
They cut me open, but they did not take it all.
My breath still lingers in the mist,
my veins still rush with the echo of rivers.
Even as my body aches under their weight,
I gather what remains—scattered light, quiet green, the hush of rain.
I will stitch myself whole again.
I will grow it from the dust.
Not as I was, but as I will be.
I will not be a Soiled Sun.

Check out more poetry here!

The post Born of Soil, Sun, Soiled Sun | Be Empowered Poetry Contest appeared first on GirlSpring.

By: Victoria Spear

Liddle, where is your head?

Has the Red Queen Rolled it again? 

Tongue out, eyes rolled back, the girl lacks response. 

The blue buckled vest must be too tight again. 

And here we were about to have a tea party.

The mice from the stairwell won’t be in attendance. 

The flowers, the flowers!

They are to Blame! 

The chatter, no squeal from their swayin’ stems 

 by the window of the blonde. 

Ah, caught talkin’ to the flowers again Liddle? 

Nasty Little Things.   

– Victoria Spear

The post Girl In the Blue Jacket Talkin’ To Flowers: By Victoria Spear appeared first on GirlSpring.

I bleed my feelings onto a page

But the page is blank

I scream my frustrations at the world

But I am silent

I cry rivers of sorrow

But there is a smile on my face

I craft the beauty I see in my life into verse

But I have fury in my eyes

The say it all contradicts

They say it drowned

They say it burned 

They say it was demolished

They say it is dead

But when I write 

I am alive

Truly 

Fully

My words are 

My air

My water

My food

It contradicts

Of course it does

Life contradicts

Some words go unnoticed

Others become inspiration for centuries

Sorrow lives with happiness

Beauty causes fury when beauty is being tarnished

Writing is finding contradictions

Finding those contradictions and embracing them

Contradictions are emotions

Emotions are life

Life is writing 

Why do I write?

Because I want to live

The post A Writer’s Reason appeared first on GirlSpring.

Spending time slicing apples and peeling tangerines — acts of care that speak louder than a simple “I love you.”

Her hands dry, her fingernails short, her knuckles bruised.

Some days, I’m sure that I will never be certain of her love.

I will always wonder if she ever truly loves me.

Yet even without her spoken words, her worn hands declare those three simple words for me.

Shouting them from the mountains for everyone to hear:

“I love you.”

The post Fruit — A poem appeared first on GirlSpring.