Stealing Visits/Global Poemic

I have been following Global Poemic for some time now, as they highlight words and artwork about the worlds experiences through Covid-19. I have enjoyed the many perspectives and experiences. Each of us has dealt with the stresses in our own way. Each of us has had to find our own way to wade threw the much of the last two years. It’s not over, but I am honored to have my piece ‘Stealing Visits’ stand alongside the works of other poets and writers as we seek to highlight our individual and collective battles.

Thank you to the Curators for reading and accepting my simple, but heartfelt peace.

Note: They are no longer accepting submissions as the project was meant to only continue for short time.

We thank all the poets and artists who contributed work. Global Poemic will publish accepted poems through July 2021 and will, after that, remain live online as an archive of what we have shared.

The Curators at Global Poemic

Mary Grace van der Kroef


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The Truth and Lies of Poetry

There is power in poetic verse. Words roll off the tongue like music and lose us in the sway of emotions that flood each word. But what about the messages hidden within poetry?

There are many ways to hide truths and or lies behind emotions. Often poetry takes us on a path we don’t control and we discover answers to questions along the way. But not always. If the engine that drives a piece is emotion, it’s inevitable that the author will sometimes get it wrong. After all, we need many more things than love to survive this world, and those that love should definitely still use the phrase, “I’m sorry.” Still, poetry has at one time taught us these things as truth.

How do we sift through the half-formed thoughts, fragmented ideas, and coloured emotions of poetry? Is it worth it? It is, especially when the poet speaks to us of their own personal story, with words that journey to understanding.

I say, you will never find gold if you are not first willing to sift the rivers for it. Maybe that is what a poet is. A prospector, braving the cold river of emotion, the pan of language in hand, searching the sediment of life for nuggets of truth. Will we find gold? Or pyrite? Or nothing but unwanted rocks?

You will never know until you are willing to jump in that river or start a poetic journey. The key is to understand it’s a journey, and a fragment of a journey, not a whole.

I thank God every day for the gift of the written word, and the gems I have found in the gift of poetry. But I also know, not every word I write is truth. They are expressions of emotion. I am also aware that the things I believe in this moment will change, as it should. Life is continually teaching us. A person who stays the same is a person who never grows.

I pray I can grow with open eyes and mind, ready for the truth, but also aware of the lies. For searching for both is necessary for growth.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef


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Beauty Adrip

Beauty adrip like,
slowly spun sugar crystals.
Honeysuckle kiss.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Inspired by the honeysuckle vine my husband bought me this spring for the backyard.

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Free

No one saw me
head to the ground,
feet to the sky,
pretending to fly.
It would have made you cry
hilarity.

A grown woman such as me
behaving as if three.
But just maybe,
you would have joined
the jocularity.
Felt free
to again be three.

Sometimes I take myself too seriously. This is just self reminder that it’s okay, and good to be ridiculously sometimes. Yes, the cover image is of my actual feet. I thought it was cute.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Ink Spots

bravery in pen work
truth of staining spots
tell the story of a heart
stocked by fear
but still uncaught

every stoke
a slash at past
seeks to sever
cords
that grasp

the only sword that has a choice
to further peace
through language voiced

still leaving stains
on those who wield
the heavy tool in open field

not blood
but ink is what it weeps
into fingerprints
it seeps

brave
to name this sword a friend
knowing well it will offend
yet again

and mark the poet at its end

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Stories (22)

What is hope?

An intangible thing that all humanity grasps for.

Sometimes I imagine I can feel it’s edges like a feather soft thing, just out of reach.

But is it really out of reach? Is hope something to be grasped?

No.

Hope is experienced, not held. Hope is found but not possessed.

It lives in places where logic alone dares not live.

Perspective changes things. It doesn’t change truth, but can give us a wider view of what is true.

Toes can never me mountains, but they can show is a likened beauty, and defy the shoes they are so often crammed into, and hold up the weight of our lives, like the deepest roots of the earth.

As does every shoulder bent in strain, stooped in pain, and prostrate in prayer.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

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Peace

Present places,
present faces,
in the moment here with you.

Touching sunlight,
touching evening,
side by side in all I do.

In comings,
follow goings,
always knowing you have space.

Quiet moments
hectic motions,
anchored inside grace.

Such protection,
unseen deflection,
learning ever to remain.

In the sphere
of your promise,
knowing every tear of pain,

is treasured,
measured,
in the palm of your hand.

Ensuring
your enduring
present peace before me spanned.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Joy

Found in simple spaces
when lights have dimmed to ease
weariness of day from shoulders prone.

In the morning beams
where radiance sings
reserving stage for feathered accompaniment notes.

Shimmers in the shadows
like the fuzziness of heat,
but greats in bells that chime with chirping mirth.

Often hid amid
wide open space
blending with a magic you can not trace.

Given to the few
who look beyond circumstance
to find the lines God painted beneath.

Even when awash,
paying untold cost,
finding treasure hid and hold relief.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Spring Sunday

The passing winter mourned,
as busyness begins.
Remember friend,
dispute the sun
over rushing never wins.

Still, need for peace.
Yet thirst for rest.
Take the day God gifted you.
He knows what man needs best.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

I find myself pressing in to the simple things of life. Constantly reminded that my spirit has been calling for quiet for years, and now that I have it, it shouldn’t be abandoned. I never imagined God would use a pandemic to gift me rest. Despite the pain of isolation, he has helped me flourish in the last twelve months. I write this as my reminder to not forget.

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Six Word Stories (17)

Tunnels, arches, trails, these things hold a fascination for me.

They beckon.

“Come explore, come and learn, come experience our adventure.”

But in adventure, there is always change.

Change of self, change of place, change of perspective.

Is it worth it, this stepping into the known?

Dare we?

If we don’t dare, we will never know what we have missed. But the question of what if will always hang there.

I don’t always dare. But sometimes I am lent a bravery not of myself and jump in feet first.

Sometimes I am swept away to places I never dreamed of. Places I never wanted to go. Places of pain.

Sometimes I land in the middle of tumultuous beauty and breath-taking experiences. I am still learning to be thankful for both.

When those experiences look arching waves, may God help me find the blessing beneath life’s crush.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photos sourced from unsplash.com

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