Without Substance

Without substance without form
a translucent bubble
Beautiful yet bound to gravity

Afraid to land and disappear
to leave no trace
I pop just a faint damp ring.

See me hear these words
like whispers faint
They are empty and vanish

They burst and implode collapse
as a dying star
A black hole remains concealed

The ghost of my former self
my copy in a mirror
Sparks too far gone to flame

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About Bree M.

Single mom of 5 beautiful children, librarian and voracious reader, christian, city-girl-wanna-be, movie lover, people watcher & graduate student! If you are on my family blog and want to learn more about me please go to http://breemidavaine.me View all posts by Bree M.

3 responses to “Without Substance

  • jillnottelten

    That zealot depression – determined to cast our eyes and hearts before the ephemeral nature of our earthly selves. Robbing us of our spirit, our sense of completion in Christ and our sense of all he created us to be.
    What a thief. What a liar. And yet – so believable while we are in the depths of depression.
    As a Christian it becomes hard to believe and hard to remember that in Christ you are a new creation; the old has gone – the new has come!All this is from God who reconciled you to himself in Christ, not counting your sins against you. God made him who had no sin to be righteousness for you. And yet God in his word assures us that this too is true.
    This ghost of yourself, so fragile I can associate with. I have been there so many times. I can associate so closely with your poem – and I know that you’re probably not looking for advice, simply looking to share a moment that you have captured beautifully.
    But here is some anyway. Ask God for that substance, that he fill you with his spirit and reassure you of your position before him. Open your Bible then and read Luke and into Acts or Colossians and be reminded of the true nature of your place before him.
    Before I leave you after such a really loooong comment – let me share one of my poems with you.

    There are footprints at the doorway
    where ready feet stood set to go
    That are now filled with a shadow
    with a path it does not know.
    Where once a heart convicted
    was ready with a word
    A feeble vessel gasps for faith –
    its rhythm barely heard
    And a shadow longs for substance
    as the faint lungs gasp for breath –
    This quiet, restless soul seems lost
    Its once sure spirit, dead.
    Yet here soul with spirit emptied and
    transformed begins to grow.
    It sets footprints at the doorway –
    seeking a pathway … where to go?

    I hope that you find your way back to feeling more whole.

  • Deviltoy

    Fancy the dew for the ground below,
    the arc of color in the mist of your moment,
    Gather the breath to float once again,
    untied, unburdened, unbound to meanings.

    Cast off foolish worries to linger mid-air,
    Create the burst, the pop, the boom,
    And rain down upon the broken shield,
    There a rusted sword does hide.

  • deviltoy

    I enjoied this one, the way i can take the trip with you from light floating airs to unfanned flames…there must be ashes.

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