• Melony Hill

"Words On My Mind", Extract of a Poetic Diary by Maryonn Grace

It’s been more than a month I haven’t gotten back to you.

I wasn’t tired but uninspired. I couldn’t say it was writer’s block, I’d say it was a life block. I can’t tell you any lies or make up stories that never existed, except when I warn you that we are having a novel and chill night, but it wasn’t the case. Nevertheless, I am glad to say I’m back. Maybe not back for good, but back enough to pursue what we’ve started together. Pondering, expressing, goofing around and contemplating everything that we catch, everything that we lose.

*Laughs. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes. Yes, I have come back with my philosophic self, so what?\

To be honest, I have put water in my wine, I’m less tense, less obsessed by what I can or cannot do. I’m just living and pushing through.

Now is the time for feedbacks and catching up!

My mind, spirit and soul are doing better, much better. I have acquired “some” discipline through God’s help, and I can now stand up from my bed of lament and depression, and stick my hands through the little crack of enlightenment that is found when you start to speak the very opposite of what you are feeling. Like a soldier with no weapons that yet has a strong desire to not die. Duh, who wants to die? Even those who really want to die are more looking for relief, and for the pain to end then actually dying, well, minus those who really want to meet their loved ones who passed.

I went far again, but yeah, things can go speedily down or speedily up, depending on what you’re being fed.

I fed myself on nothing,

Yes, I,

Starved myself to death,

Standing up and looking for food seemed unnecessary,

Because I knew it would repeat,

Soon again I would be hungry,

I crashed on my bed, and was thankful for just that,

A bed to hide in when the outside world appeared as a cave that would silence my every sigh,

I couldn’t,

Not anymore.


And fail,

To lift my soul,

Why are we always asked to stand?


Be strong?

Forget the hurt?

Many years of ignoring my own inner cries,

Built up a bomb that would explode in my face every now and then.

What a disease!

What a world we live in!

Weird how negativity has a way to come in me,

Yet joy is left at bay.

I prayed, cried,

Came out raw, harsh and loud,

Took the weight off and was determined to not move until I had a clue,

Of how life is supposed to be lived when you have a scar that bleeds.

Scars aren’t supposed to bleed,

They should be just memories,

Sharp blades must haunt me,

Hunt me down,

Confused as to why I’m not destroyed nor crushed,

It doesn’t show,

Of course, it doesn’t show,

I got so good at hiding I don’t even need to try,


Camouflage like a reptile,

In humid forests and hostile territories,

The reality is not that poetic and adventurous,

It’s just a lot of unfulfilled wishes and broken dreams,

And some boredom and overload of stress.

It took New Year Eve,

No feast,


God and me,

The whole Trinity,

To reach new possibilities.

I needed to start listening,

“Come to me”,

He never stopped begging,

I eventually came.

A fed-up attitude has become my motivation,

When lonely nights have prison forms,

Bars of steel and claustrophobic dorms,

“All in your head”,

I guess,

A raging storm,

But I found the light,

Held it tight,

Promised I would,

Roll over day and night,

Crawl to the center and use my right,

To come to the Throne of a man dressed in white,

Holy enough to make me holy and satisfied,

Feel the atmosphere retreating?

Feel us rising like clouds after collected condensed rain drops turned into torrents,

Hear the noise fading?

Silence matching peace like a royal dance,

A ball,

A party,

A banquet to admire,


What God has united,

Let no man put asunder,

His voice is like thunder but He chooses to whisper,

See Him soothe you as you surrender,

Thinking this is an invitation?

A crusade?

A discrimination?

This is just prayers I lived,

Yep, I didn’t do all the praying,

Jesus prayed for me,

And that remains the greatest form of love and poetry I ever witnessed.

It’s not easy every day,

I don’t get visits from unicorns or fairies,

But when I roll over to the other side,

When I try to stick my finger in His side,

When my blood matches His,

And doctrine becomes a useless word,

I live,

I live a life that doesn’t hurt."

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