Awakened

It’s hard for me to explain this season that I’ve lingered within the past couple months. I want to describe it as a slumber, but I’ve been awake; not in the way of an awakening, rather, that moment where eyes open only slightly in the morning, and you roll back over into welcoming warmth of the bed. It’s been almost lethargy, a depression that I masqueraded as ‘resting to recharge’ to pacify my lack of understanding for the current season.

I’ve recognized it for what it is. While I have thought that I was ‘recharging’, neglecting everything that inspires me, I was really punishing myself in hopes of a deeper understanding. My personality always wants to grow, stretch, learn. But I was wanting to learn, only stripping away all else. I was pausing my life, hoping that I’d have an epiphany that would change my world and maybe other’s too. This idealistic concept never came. I don’t think it would ever come in this state. I wasn’t living life. I was sitting at a prideful pause, rather than a state of stillness. I was missing stillness’ humility where growth truly incubates.

The irony in it all is that I have learned one thing: that to learn I must lean not on my own understanding, but through discernment in all things. I’m pursuing this art to marry the two together, discernment and living. I’m finding that I don’t have to fear fumbling, that I’ll be guided once I relinquish control and solely trust. I can be confident in knowing that deeper soul-growth won’t graze by. I’m living with my eyes wide open.

Surrender

m a y   8

With a quiet mind, 
and soft spirit, 
either you will show me or teach me; 
though they are synonymous.

• • •

m a y   15

Just take a moment—
I tell myself—
to lay and look up at the sky;
see how small you are, 
beneath the myriad of the white billow’s bloom. 

Oh, how our woes,
could never crumble the clouds—
my eyes are drawn and drift, 
along their lull. 

All else evaporates. 

• • •

m a y   25

I hear the red cardinal call, singing the song of today with the occasional hum of a modern day machine. I’m practicing open awareness, the simplest form of gratitude. To acknowledge everything in existence, and to soak in all surroundings. I look at what’s ahead, along with each fuzzy-faint fragment happening within my peripherals. I’m amidst a stagnant scene—neighbor boy, not even four years of age, playing with airplanes while a maintenance man fixes another’s air conditioning. 

Recognizing it all, without label or thought. Solely existing, inevitably followed by gratitude. 

Little pieces of tree pollen fall on my head and tangle in my hair. Alternating bees linger around my yellow mug, filled to the brim with hot tumeric, ginger tea. The breeze picks up and releases more pollen, gravity pulling it to ground. 

This is where serenity dwells, within the stillness. My tired mind has finally been emptied of its clutter and clamor, and now is solely taking up space. I get lost in this space, buried in gratitude. Amidst this space, this blank scene, anxiety isn’t able to erupt in any form nor capacity. For I am breathing freely, standing still with a wide-lens view, encompassed by my surroundings. I’m allowing myself to hear, feel, breathe. 

• • •

j u n e   8

It’s a pause of a page turn, 
mid-way. 

A thin piece of paper wavering; 
no camaraderie nor support from either ends of the book; 
rather stagnant, enveloped only by air, 
connected, only through the shared spine. 

The pages which lay left are known, 
their words well read, 
though the words on the right, remain unrevealed—
though a few catch my eye; 
terms recognized, 
restless to be read, 

but it’s a pause of a page-turn, mid-way.

• • •

j u l y   4

My shaky knees sit together, 
with feet on the wall, 
propping me back into the posture-failing chair, 
a few feet away from my mother-in-law in the hospital bed. 

I peer out the blinds onto the small-town city, 
saturated in the sunset’s glow. 
It’s harsh light glares through the blinds, 
onto the wall that’s been begging for its light. 

My mind is a mixed up ball of yarn, 
a thread of thought that’s been tumbled and knotted—
stature matching my stomach. 

A low quality audio recording plays to her in the background, 
along with the occasional gurgle from obstruction in her lungs, 
accompanied by the throat humidifier’s hum that moonlights as a white noise machine.  

My hummingbird heart and half open head tosses confusion, 
fights with frustration; 
I ache for her bones that have been touched by pressure ulcers, 
I have sorrow for her skin that feels the fabric of the hospital gown, 
of every pinch and every needle, 
though isn’t able to move a muscle. 
I pray for her mind that working in full capacity, 
but can’t communicate verbally. 

I breathe deep.

God’s never left us,
and hasn’t now. 

He hasn’t vanished for even a second within this all-enduring wait; 
though we wonder when this hour will be over. 

He’s in the humidified air,
alongside the shoulders holding a cinderblock weight, 
and in the bright blue eyes of my mother-in-law. 

He’s there when our hearts lay so heavy, 
when the diagnosis offers months, 
when doctors share the prognosis with tears welling, 
when my soul feels shattered.

He’s in these moments where her husband feels peace, 
one that surpasses all understanding; 
He’s in the hearts that the nurses carry, 
their patience and diligence. 

He’s holding us, 
calming our minds, 
holding our hearts, 

even amidst the mess.

Sisters

Baby blue stitches, 
little crossed threads creating denim patterns; 
though fading in the elbows. 

She paints oranges, develops photos of her sisters, 
and captures footage of the Cinquefoil flowers. 

She wraps her arms around her brothers, 
and laughs loudly; 
honeydew hope is held in her eyes.

On a basking blanket between two Cottonwood trees,   
with a short story collection between her palms, 
her face begins to freckle—
beneath her full eyebrows,
and on her soft shoulders. 

She is in the wind, and will grow weary, 
belly swells as baby grows—
resting her spine on the bed, 
as she pulls splinters from her fingers.

Gray strands emerge from her scalp, 
woven throughout her cocoa curls;  
it holds the air of the forest, 
and unravels beneath streams of warm water. 

A lively life looms, 
indigenous to encouragement. 

Her heart is held, 
familiar to a full mind—
but not foreign to today. 

I think she understates, 
how many good traits she received from her mother; 
how they both speak with words that break the bones of death, 
and shift tides with a whisper.

---

Credits
Poem, written + read: Regan Smith
Music, written + recorded: Ricky Smith
Cover photo, courtesy of Elizabeth Miller

Lately

Light dances on the morning comforters, golden meets white, as the sun surpasses the horizon. This always stirs a spark of excitement for the day, all the potential fruition to be birthed, beauty created within the world.

The past several weeks have felt hollow where joy poured out. I was salt that lost its flavor, the bright yellow that lost its shine. Our house had flooded from an A/C issue, one that we are still in the recovering stages of. I had been giving every last drop of energy outward, through people, work, family. With my introverted personality, I inevitably became empty. Instead of taking some time to rejuvenate, I crashed. I stopped caring for myself, slipping off my supplements—causing my body to crave necessary nutrients.

The deficiencies caused me to boil and steam, translating to mis-directed anger and a frenzy of anxiety. I was pulled back into a lot of counteractive thinking, seeking for control. As one who has experienced the hold of eating disorders earlier in my life, the desire and urge for control contributed extra anxiety to my already flustered mind.

I went into a large room with concrete floors and black walls, and listened to a message sung gently beneath string lights. I had a tear stream down with each word spoken. It resonated with me deeply.  

I shuffled home and flipped through some lavender-streaked bible verses I recently highlighted. I accumulated a few to calm and direct my mind when I felt anxiety begin to unleash, or when I felt depression attempt to dampen. As the week progressed, I would add to this collection when stumbling upon another string of words that echoed peace within me. I’ve listed a few of the bible verses below—the ones that grabbed both of my hands with a firm grasp, and yanked me out of the quicksand. 

Proverbs 4:25-26
Let your eyes look right on [with fixed purpose], and let your gaze be straight before you. Consider well the path of your feet, and let all your ways be established and ordered aright.

Romans 5:3-5
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.

Philippians 4:6-7
Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

Colossians 4:2
Devote yourselves to prayer with an alert mind and a thankful heart.

Luke 11:36
“If you are filled with light, with no dark corners, then your whole life will be radiant, as though a floodlight were filling you with light.”

These verses have been held within the palm of my hand, recited and remembered when thoughts approach or intertwine themselves with adversity. This practice has my perspective evolving—adjusting a melancholy focus to this fixed gaze set much further into the horizon. 

For every dawn-to-dark has been redeemed through Christ’s death and resurrection. 

I begin making tea, to sit and spend some deliberate time bathing in this beautiful thought—it’s stirred, dissolved, yet lingers. Dwelling on these good thoughts, is when my contentment always flourishes. I’m thick within contrast as now these days are no longer burdened by anxiety, worry, or probing for control. I follow the tea leaves within my glass pot—they intermingle with the boiled water. I feel that although the past few months have felt turbulent, the outcome has been brewing something strong, rising and sinking and to be poured outside myself. 

It’s been a beautiful metamorphosis—I laugh when I write this, for only a week ago, I mentioned to a friend that I felt amidst a rocky transition. I’m now flowing within water, rather than resisting the rapids. I’m within my cadence, my song—filled with alacrity and excitement. This was breathed into my being, long before I was born. It has replaced worry with confidence, anxiety for joy, exposing all dark corners to light so that I can be a floodlight, pouring out to all others. 

I finally feel like me again, a relationship where conviction can gently tug me back into the word. I’m working towards being better, always, yet harmoniously comfortable within my mind and skin; attentive to the small, still voice within my head.  

When the air is fragrant with basil, and when my lips can’t help but smile, is when the dark thoughts try to stick and stay. I remain within the peace, and remember my relationship. For my mind is a dwelling place for the Lord, so there is no room, no place and no tolerance for those thoughts to get further than their knock at the door. 

Authentic Verities

Surrounded by incredible love, 
just as the sun shines within the day—
as beautiful as the morning’s aurora. 

More encompassing than the skin wrapping our bodies, 
or the blood within our veins. 

More bountiful than the
leaves, needles, blooms, buds. 

Steadfast like the mountains fastened into the earth. 

Just as the east meets the west,
never ending yet marrying at every point. 

Given to each of us, 
and all of us.

Rebirth

For the past month and a half, I’ve taken a few steps back. I’ve been able to recollect myself and take a long, deep, cleansing breath. I’ve privately penned notes for myself as well as letters for my forthcoming poetry collection—its unfolding has held a mirror to my mind. I thank you, reader, for your patience and support during my absence.

I underwent some great alterations within my tangible life, with a sweeping growth within my mental state. I initially thought that by taking a pause from distractions, creativity would pour from my fingers. This happened, in a way. 

For the past five years, I’ve placed a careful emphasis on perspective growth. I’m constantly working on stretching the way that I perceive experiences, while kneading out negativity. These past couple of months supplied great opposition, yielding accelerated growth within my understanding.

There were nights that came quickly, leaving me depleted from the day’s thoughts—heat radiating towards my eyelids, sinking slowly. When my mind is sore and my perspective feels bleak, I am susceptible to slipping back into an inverted state. With racing thoughts swirling throughout my head and tears collecting at my jawline, I recognized that my mind would remain weak if I recluse. For I am undergoing deep rooted growth. My mind has been emotionally training—exhausted and distressed—but building up and strengthening towards a strong and brilliant future. The process can be tedious and taxing, but the outcome will be filled with tenacious endurance—but only if I push through my gasping lungs and my burning legs. 

These occurrences within this breathing space forced me to stretch out and hold onto my Creator, expanding within His peace. He has uncovered answers and holistic understanding—a quiet, yet boundless forest. The forest floor is densely packed with ferns and thick tree trunks of truth. Mushrooms and leaves from the magnolia tree are scattered, leading up to where the river runs by, seeping hope. The gentle wind invigorates freedom, as I’m amidst the comfort of the all-encompassing sun. He is the oasis for my brittle bones and weary mind. 

This sanctuary and its teachings have been translated into little notes written while I’m at my wooden desk at work, along with feverishly written pages stuffed within my leather-bound journal. By just taking a breath and recognizing the moment at hand, all distractions dissipate and my soul is calm. This is where my strength is regained, since I was never the source of my own strength. 

Gratitude, tranquility and eternity have been poised towards the top of my mind and have been spilled into each piece I construct. These past two months, I was able to handwrite, lick and send out some letters across the county—connecting through an old-fashioned and intentional way. I even received a few letters back, and have sealed and shipped my reply. My husband and I adopted a little rescue pup, who has showered me with such love; I’m eager to share him with you. Greatest of all, I’ve been able to thank, praise, and expound in joy to the only one who matters. 

I’ve been rebirthed, reborn, saved and strengthened; this epitome of perspective has been placed as paramount, and my gratitude never runs out. I am incredibly honored, to have you here, and to be able to share these pieces of my heart with you. 

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