Tag: poem

Spoken Word

Beauty From Ashes // Spoken Word Ed.

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

One of my dearest friends, Bobbi Jo Brooks made a painting for me last year entitled Beauty From Ashes. We spoke a lot about the themes of the painting and I fell in love with the painting and everything it represents. When she presented it to me, we talked about me one day writing a poem to accompany it. A year later, I finally managed to capture some of Bobbi Jo’s ideas in words. The fruit of that is displayed below.

For more of Bobbi Jo’s work, go to her website bobbijobrooks.com

https://youtu.be/idkQ8ANf7i4

Beauty from Ashesby Rebekah Eckard

If you stand far enough away,

you’ll only notice the gold and white running down my body.

I shimmer in the sunlight and dance in the shadows.

You call me beautiful. Lovely.

As Pretty as a Painting.
I am a work of art,

not meant to be admired but experienced.

Come closer and touch me.

See for yourself what I truly am.

Run your fingers along my skin,

and find that I am not just a shell.

There is more to my story than what your eyes can see.

 

I am not a blank canvas.

Underneath my beauty there is a past.

There is always a past.

It’s only when you get close enough

that you begin to see the bumps and bruises-

the accumulation of ash that lies beneath

Years and years of failed perfection

Heaped upon the burning fragments

Of unmet expectations, hopes dashed from the rooftops,

falling short in all the ways I wanted to succeed.

Yet the artist took me as I was.

My bumps and bruises not a hindrance

But a foundation to be built upon.

Color and paint poured over and over

Soothing my enflamed wounds.

Making wonder from the darkest parts of me.

I can feel these new elements forever changing who I am.

Not hiding, but transforming.

Ash glittering into gold.

Ridged landscapes smoothing into porcelain.

So you see beauty where once was brokenness.
Yes, I am more than a pretty picture.

I am a living, breathing story

Echoing throughout time.

Ashes to Beauty.

Death to Life.

Come closer and see for yourself.

Come closer, and see yourself.

the Color of Home
Spoken Word

the Color of Home

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

 

 

Image-1 (2)Home looks a lot like the color green.

Coming home to little white house

against the backdrop of golden fields

with shutters that had been painted the perfect shade of hunter green.

You were our tiny grasp of the American dream.

You were a place to be free-

to run wild through pastures and carve mazes through fields of wheat.

I remember how we worked in those fields all summer long

building our little castle out of scraps we found.

I remember the sound of the shotgun when the farmer found us

Traipsing through his crops. We ran all the way home

until we found safety behind a great green door.

 

Home looks a lot like the color green.

One great wide expanse of a quadrilateral.

It was at the center of everything.

Your grass was the perfect shade of summer green,

surrounded by red brick buildings with white staircases spiraling up the sides.

How many times was the sun just too lovely to go to sit inside a classroom?

How many times did we throw down the weight we wore on our backs,

and throw Frisbee under the shade of giant oak trees?

The bell chimes and reminds us that another hour had passed.

One less hour that we could stay in the holy space.

The night before graduation, we escaped to this timeless expanse

And sat for our while in the dark of the night

ignoring the fears that came with tomorrow.

and the inevitable goodbyes we would have to say.

 

Home looks a lot like the color green.

It’s mint green tile covering the walls of the U-Bahn station

signaling that it is time to get off the subway,

that I can let my shoulders slump and my feet drag.

The day is over. My duties are done.

I grab a beer from the shop on the corner and take my time walking up cobblestone streets

that sparkle rose gold reflecting the setting sun.

and I inhale slowly, the edges of my mouth slowly curving up.

I can rest now. I am home.

Spoken Word

The Sky Has Already Fallen

Rebekah EckardLeave a comment

The sky has already fallen

and I don’t recognize this new horizon.

Now my mind may wander but it cannot comprehend

this cataclysm that so easily wrecked my plan.

 

Like waves in the ocean the mountains fell,

left me trying to climb up the swell.

But every solid hold I grasped poured out from my hand.

I’m a fish out of water, a foreigner in this land.

 

The mountains I once called my home have fallen into the sea.

The sidewalks that once lead me to you have cracked beneath my feet.

Now there’s an ocean between us and it’s sink or swim it seems.

But if you ask me to come to you, I’ll meet you somewhere in between.

 

Could you build a bridge across this divide?

Pull me out of this rising tide?

For I know that I must cross this ever shifting sea,

It’s just that right now I’m afraid of stepping in too deep.

 

Yet with each step I take towards this new sunrise

I’m getting closer to the fusing of you and I.

And suddenly we’re in the middle, far from either shore

Must I choose between what lies behind me or before?