He Names Me

Who am I?
The one that you see?
What she thinks of me?
All they note?
Or the thing he missed?

Who?

Guilty
That I forgot
Lost in the mess
Of others’ thoughts
Spewed at my feet

Why?

Untranslatable
From one mind to another
Labeled with others
Experiences
Self perceptions that tell lies

Where?

is the truth of me
In this ever shifting nexus
Is it written down
In His book of days?
Was I

Planted

A vine that climes
Grabbing holding of His
Provisions
Both free and confined
To grow along the trellis of

His cross

When I reach the top
Will I know?
Intertwined and grounded
By Him, with Him
I am for Him

Upheld

Blooming in my seasons
Existing, a separate being
Singleness, within the
Universe Whomb
Bearing fruits as He names me

Loved

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Covid Verses/Paddler Press

The Covid Verses

Featuring 30 poems written during the global pandemic, this eclectic collection from international authors shares the humour, the frustrations, the loves, and the loss that we all have experienced.

– Paddler Press

I love it when an editor brings writers together and creates something special. I believe that is what Deryck Robertson has done with The Covid Verses. My poem Starving Overtime has graciously included in this collection that stands a testament to the world’s shared grief, pain, and fear. It may have been a dark two years for many, but it’s not a time we should forget, lest we fail to learn from our experiences.

This collaborative chapbook is available in print from Paddler Press. Please consider picking up your own copy to support this great Canadian Small Press.

Mary Grace van der Kroef

Keep Lit

He didn’t say
we wouldn’t weep while we waited.
He didn’t say
feeding the lantern’s flame,
wouldn’t singe.
He didn’t promise,
finding oil would be easy.
Only “Be ready,”
and the Spirit will with you sit.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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‘Omnipresent’ and ‘Things Made’/Heart of Flesh Literary Journal

I have been waiting with great anticipation to be able to share this publication. Heart of Flesh Literary journal is a publication I have been following since the beginning of my writing career, and they have been a dream publication for me.

This last week Issue Seven went live! My poems “Omnipresent” and “Things Made” have been included in this issue and I pray they bless you. They are available to read for free, accompanied by audio readings.

Print copies are available for purchase if you wish to support the Heart of Flesh Literary Journal.

Mary Grace van der Kroed

Feature art by Veronica McDonald, Heart of Flesh Literary Magazine.

Egg Salad

A crunch to spoil the
Creamy texture I spread thick.
Celery, too much.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Disconnect/Mental Rhythm Magazine

A literary magazine dedicated to showcasing the rhythms of mental health in individuals around the globe.

Mental Rhythm Website

They have featured my poem Disconnect in their first issue. I invite you all to read it along with the many other great works included.

It’s always a blessing to have a piece chosen out of the many submitted to each outlet. As a student run magazine, it’s also great to know my words are reaching young people in need of support.

I look forward to following them as a publication and supporting the students working behind the scene.

Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Miller Farm Fairy

Originally Written in 2009 while sending time in Bourbon Indiana on my Grandparents Farm. We enjoyed many walks down to the pond and dressing up in cattails and corn leaves sparked my imagination.

Her skirts are bound with borrowed twine,
Its folds of corn-leaf silk.
Braided reeds with clover, wheat,
Above a face as sweet as milk.

Her cheeks glow pink, her feet are bare.
Eyes a-twinkle in the light.
Heals they stain a healthy green
As they dance with all their might.

She is friends with the old elm tree;
Names the drying cornstalks.
Talks with people and things unseen…
But only till it’s six O’clock!

Then it’s off with her corn-leaf skirts,
Goodbye to pond and field.
For mother will be calling soon,
The table spread. It’s time to eat.

Bath with a story,
Sleep with sweet dreams.
Rest until tomorrow,
A day filled with many new things.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Washed Out

I found this poem from 2008 hiding in my files. It was written before I considered myself a writer, and before I ever dreamed of being a poet. I thought it would be fun to share it with all of you.

In fields of grey
and washed out rose,
Beneath a sky
in eternal repose,

Opposite a Rainbow,
its edges torn,
Beside a bramble
full of thorns,

While set against
a horizon, worn,
Laid across
a brook so forlorn,

Is a precious place
imprinted deep,
on wooden planking
where he sat to weep.

He watched
a little boat drift,
so far away
his last loving gift.

Carved from a branch
leaf for a sail,
it bobbed down stream
green foam on its tail.

The lady fair
he had dressed in moss,
her fragile wings
still held high aloft.

With her went his worlds
colour and life.
His soul skipped a beat
at this, his first strife.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Splinter

Like
a splinter in the foot
you just can’t seem to see,
is the pain within a heart
filled with
anxiety.
No one else can see
pain
that you now feel.
Often times you ask
if it’s even truly
real.
Walk about your day,
the prick
will stab with pain.
Balancing
the wound
becomes a dripping drain.
Energy is lost,
focus on protect.
Friendships
pays the cost,
when attention you
deflect.
How
to remove
a shard that can’t be seen?
First admit,
discard
pretending’s screen.
Allow
a probing look.
A gentle searching poke.
Trust
someone who knows,
this pain in not a joke.
Often
it may feel
like a bandage ripped away.
The sting,
it may endure
well into your day.
But,
pain of healing hands
is worth a season’s rest.
It’s a pain that’s bearable
when into tears it’s
pressed.
Gentle
words may pinch,
a tweezers searching bite.
And tears can wash away,
splinters
and their bite.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Splinter,’ was originally published in Fahmidan Journal‘s Issue 6: Autoimmune & Mental Health Warriors. Page 10–11.


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Six Word Story (62)

Honesty is beautiful. When it’s brutal, when it’s gentle, when it grieves, or when it stands on the borders of our perception, just waiting for us to look its way, it’s still beautiful.

May I never lose the love of honesty.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from Unsplash.com


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