HOPE SCREAMS


Hope screams 

“Don’t let go of me!
There is something you can’t see right now
because your eyes are focused on your mess
and your soul is drowning in your pain”

As loud as my circumstances are 
and as much as they try
to drown out any sound of rescue

Hope still screams louder

“Don’t let go of me!” 

(And as I write this poem, the song is sung
‘Jesus Christ, my living hope’

No coincidence there) 

© Ruby Neumann


Poet's note:

Written February 23, 2019.  My Mom and I were  sitting in the auditorium at MissionsFest in Edmonton.  I was trying to find some words to write in a card for a person who was going through a hard time.  And these are the words what came to me.  Then the song "Jesus,my Living Hope" was sung and I looked up and saw the words on the screen.  It was like I was seeing a confirmation of God's identity.  God is Hope.  Like God is Love, God is Hope.  

The speakers of the evening were Kevin and Julia Garrett.  Their story was about hope in the midst of hopelessness.  They were abducted and imprisoned in China for 775 days.  They had lived in China for thirty years teaching ESL and operating a coffee shop.  They were accused of being spies and it was later revealed that they were "pawns in a political play between China, Canada and the U.S."  Again this theme of "God is Hope" came through the sharing of their story.  

I am not sure yet how this relates to me in my life at this time.  I wrote this for someone else, but maybe Hope is screaming at me too.  

Painting on my heart

Time is passing 
Since you left me behind
Days turned to years
Moments to time

Photos of you
Adorn the walls of my home
I might fear that I’ll forget you 
Now that I am alone

I want those moments 
Those photos I took
To be alive again
Not dead portraits on a hook

I could take them all down
Strip my walls bare
But it won’t change much
You’d still be there

Even without the photographs
My life's adorned with your art
For every memory you ever gave me
Is a painting on my heart

© Ruby Neumann













Poet's Note:

Written February 22, 2019.  Today someone is looking at the photos on their wall and longing for those moments to be real again.  I am not the only one with photos all over my wall of the people I miss.  All around this planet are hearts aching for the faces they see in those photographs.  Can I see a little through their eyes today? 

Sarayu

Holy Spirit
Collector of my tears
Beautiful Wind

You sit there beside me
You smile at me 
Your laughter penetrates my brokenness
You listen as if hearing me for the first time

You are Creativity
The Breath of Life
His Spirit 

You dance for me 
Swaying in the evening of my soul
Showing me freedom

My direction
My guide
Giving me a place to find answers
Giving me an oasis to find myself

Gardener in the midst of my mess 
Creator of my healing 
You make my life beautiful
Take me with You 
Let me work in Your presence 
Teach me 
Open my eyes to understanding
Ask me questions
Help me discover 
And then
Straighten me out
Correct my faulty logic
Gently bring me to Your passion
Welcome me into Your conversation
I will sit with You in this garden
As You invite me into your wholeness
And You tell me I am
Perfectly in process

You are very persuasive
Very convincing 
I only wish I could keep up with you

Give me Your eyes
Let me see what You see
The Colour
The Light
The Movement of Your creation
But not only see
Let me be awashed in Your arrays
Of Forgiveness 
Of Healing

There You stand as I come
Bearing the most painful burden
I cannot stand in Your presence
I am weak and lost
You reach into my pit
Your gaze penetrating into my pain
Your gentle hand caresses me 

And then I hear the music
Flowing into the broken crevices of my soul
You take flowers
Flowers grown in the garden of my mess 
Giving fragrance to the death before me

Love me as I cry

Lead me to my healing
Back to the garden of my mess
Back to the place we prepared
We will bury the burdens 

Believe in me
Sing to me
Take my tears 
Pour them out in the soil of my sorrow
Stand with me now as we watch what grows there
The tree of life 
In the garden of my mess
In the garden of my heart

In this peaceful place
You promise to be with me forever
You remind me that who I am is important

You are I AM
Always was

© Ruby Neumann

(image taken from "The Shack" movie

Poet's Note: 

(Inspired from “The Shack”) 
written Feb 9, 2019

I had a idea to watch the Shack Movie and find some poetic inspiration from each of the characters... The first character I chose was Sarayu... The Holy Spirit.  She is my favourite, so I started with her and just started writing what I saw portrayed and how I felt that translate into my own relationship.  This isn't the first poem I wrote on Holy Spirit... Wind was also inspired by trying to capture a description on someone not easily describable.  I couldn't organize my thoughts into rhymes or meters... I just had to write and let the thoughts flow in what may seem chaos, but is called free verse for a reason.  How do I attempt to convey who Holy Spirit is to me in poetry chained by structure?  I couldn't with Wind and I couldn't with Sarayu.  If you haven't seen the Shack Movie or read the book... I will explain one thing.  Sarayu was the name for the Holy Spirit character that Paul Young chose, taken from a Hindi name for wind.  

The Dad in my Dreams

Today,  I’ll spend time with my dad in my dreams
Maybe a waste of time it seems

It may seem lazy to stay in bed
But I can’t get the pictures of him out of my head

So I’ll lay down and close my eyes
And maybe those pictures will come alive

Maybe I’ll find myself back on the farms
Back with him and me in his arms

If I had control of where we would be
I’d pick the farm in Flatrock for the first memory

We take Champ and Brownie and go for a walk
Our sheepdog friends lend their ear as we talk

We talk about school and sheep and stuff
“We have a lot in common.” He says with a laugh

The next place we go is the farm in Round Hill
I’m grown up; he’s retired and there’s time to just chill

We hang out in his shop and make sawdust fly
Knowing this won’t last, I start to cry

He looks at me with no surprise
Takes out a clean handkerchief and wipes my eyes

“You always have me inside your dreams
Lay down, close your eyes, and relive our years

Remember the good, bypass the bad
And know I love you.  I’m your Dad

I wish I could take your pain away
But instead, I’ll give you this place to play

To be with me as long as you need
I’ll be the Dad who lives in your dreams”

© Ruby Neumann



Poet's Note:

I wrote this on Father's Day 2017  (June 18).  Today, as I post this on my blog, February 9, it is my Opa's birthday. My Opa was my Dad's Dad.  He was born 114 years ago and has been "missing" from our lives for almost 29 years.  My dad has been "missing" for 11 years.  I wanted to post this on January 28th, the anniversary of my Dad's passing.  But I missed posting it, so I wanted to wait to today and maybe honour both dads... my dad and my dad's dad, because I am missing them both.  The poem could work for Opa too.  I remember spending time in his shop on the farm and taking walks with him and his dog Curly.  

* * * 

About a month after my Opa passed away, my dad was having a sad moment and I asked him about it and he told me...

"I just realized I lost my dad."

I didn't think much of it then, because I couldn't relate to what that meant for him, until he had passed and that moment came for me.  

Maybe today, I will lay down on my bed, close my eyes and spend time with both of them in my dreams.  Because I can. 

 * * * 

The picture I chose for this post is of my Dad and his parents on the Flatrock Farm in the 1950's.  It is one of my favourite pictures of a collection of pictures that my Dad took. To see a collection of my Dad's photography from the 1950's, check out this Youtube link.  Journey back to the 50's.