Prolonged Solitude
Jumping straight into the poetry, followed by a personal note…
Jumping straight into the poetry, followed by a personal note.
Prolonged Solitude
by Regan Smith
• • •
Prolonged Solitude is the only one
who has created such a space to where
my claustrophobic subconscious can
finally take a deep breath, reach out and
pen itself to paper.
Prolonged Solitude has given me
revelations and understandings of myself
in ways I’ve never known before;
she’s honest and kind and has
kept me accountable.
Her silent words have shown me
myself in raw and uncomfortable ways;
where I realize that I’ve been storing
shattered glass in my side–only
now my eyes aren’t too busy to
see it, my hands aren’t too busy to help,
and where I can alleviate and heal.
I’ve mistaken her before, long ago
when we weren’t well acquainted.
I mistook her as an enemy–
and thought I responded with
purposeful neglect, but when I numbed
her out, it was because I was screaming,
trying to fill the void which would
only leave me with a sore throat and
a messy mind. I inaccurately
attributed that character to her.
For while she’s a quiet friend–
one who says few words–
those few words are pure wisdom,
always bringing me back to myself,
to still my self, to slow my thoughts;
and for that, I thank you,
Prolonged Solitude.
While I still work during the week remotely and spend a lot of time with Ricky, this pandemic has brought on a great deal of solitude, as I’m sure many others are experiencing. As an introvert, I adore being alone–I truly get so much energy out of it. But there’s a point to where I exceed my introversion tanks and start retreating inward. I go deep, deep into my thoughts and truly get lost. I start to lose touch with reality for I’ve ventured so deeply into this secret land that only I can see. I begin to take every thought with a thousand tons of gravity, chasing it back to origin, and can’t find my way back. It’s such an interesting concept to share but truly I become so distracted with my thoughts that I have a difficult time focusing on really anything. I start feeling anxious since I don’t feel grounded.
To counteract, I’ve been spending more time in meditation and prayer, writing and setting myself a structured schedule to continue to write and create. This has been a true blessing these past few weeks.
During these efforts, I partook in a guided writing exercise to help bring forth my subconscious to paper. To simply see it and allow more clarity in my mind. The activity was to write a letter to someone. I chose to write a letter to my present-day self. To be even more vulnerable, I found that through this exercise, I have been harboring hate subconsciously against myself. The letter was so incredibly encouraging and uplifting–speaking against the inadequacy that I had felt.
I didn’t realize until after the ink dried that I had been in an ongoing struggle with feeling inadequate, a slave to growth, an imposter to all.
While I can’t control this terrible circumstance that we’re all in, I’m so incredibly thankful for this season of solitude. I’m not sure how much longer I would have gone before I recognized the hurt that I was holding. I don’t have many answers to this, but I know what the truth says about me.
I know that I am empowered, and out of the abundance of that is my growth.
I know that I am strong, and out of the abundance of that is the encouragement I give.
I know that I am fully loved, and out of the abundance of that I’m able to love others.
I know that I am on the right track, for when I’m not, I’m always guided back.
Brandi
This is a poem that’s a part of the Sister Series, a series of celebrating individual women and sharing their beauty through poetry. This poem is titled, Brandi…
This is a poem that’s a part of the Sister Series, a series of celebrating individual women and sharing their beauty through poetry. This poem is titled, Brandi, after a sunshine of a soul.
brandi
by Regan Smith
• • •
Her thoughts are a garden,
exposing a glorious song.
During the day, she diligently sows seeds
and during nighttime she draws her flowers:
the Black-Eyed Susan, White Wood Aster,
the myriad of Goldenrod blooms.
She wrangles snakes, pulling them
out of her garden, grasping their bodies
right behind the eyes; she holds no fear–
for although she’s been bitten before,
familiar to the feeling of poison in her skin–
she now holds authority, victory over all:
depression turned to dreams,
anxiety turned to assurance,
her thoughts now at full bloom.
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.
Water-Streaked Window
A break within my afternoon, in the midst of the a foggy drizzle, I am given an opportunity to pause and reflect. Even though it seems as though my body has turned blank, contemplatively calm, this is when my thoughts are able to erupt and outpour. Buried beneath the depths of my mind, I’m lost within this whirlpool of thought.
Routinely, I go about my days and take notice of circumstances that remind me of others, memories that slip out through various forms. There are the ideas that peek within my thoughts, but are silenced due to prior commitments of the day. Flashes of distress triggered through words, or healing that is tangibly recognized. There are thoughts reminded by the subconscious realization linking to a slumbered image experienced within my youth. Creativity, shapes and colors coat the insides of my mind. Even within the nighttime doze, every minute is crowded with hallucination.
During this intermission is when I am able to digest and decompose this introspection. Today, this interlude transpires in the form of a coffeehouse I nest within this afternoon. For although my pen is low in ink, here I write—liberating the commotion of my mind.
This is when I can provide these thoughts with identity and deduct their derivative. For I’ll nurture the words written, for they bring growth. They develop restoration, release contentment, and stimulate encouragement into my life. I analyze my thoughts through the devotion of words imprinted to paper—but also through the reading interpretation of the depiction itself. The thoughts, poetry and development are all intertwined—running together like this water-streaked window.
These thoughts and practice may be overwhelming at times, but the creation of poetry and sharing experiences through words is a gift I have been given. Transferring thoughts into tangible form glides smoothly, almost fluid.
And now I share these pieces with you, reader. These letters and notes are the thoughts that have stained my mind, spouted onto the pages and bred discovery. As you browse these letters, I pray that they resonate with you; that these realizations that have altered my life will prove pleasurable to yours too.