Rocky Mount, North Carolina
On September 2007 I was hospitalized for the second time due to symptoms of my bipolar disorder going beyond my ability to manage. The psychiatric facility was both confusing (why am I here) and lonely (where is God). I noticed that everyone kept to themselves and seemed very fearful (me included).
To pass the time, I started drawing artwork with crayon and markers and giving them to the other patients. They kept asking for more. In addition, the creative spark that had died since college was ignited. I started writing poems and giving them to the patients and they really smiled and it led to some of the richest conversations I believe I have ever had.
Since then, I continue to write at least twice a week and I give many of my poems of gratitude and consolation to friends and family. Poetry has kept mementally alive and vitally connected to God. Poetry truly can cause a soul to bloom and heal, including my own.
Think. When will you see? Seeing of such mercy, praise Him? Yes.
Your red-eyes, your tears? Both are needing, your Abba's eyes.
Your red-eyes, yes, your deepest tears. Is His task: Arise.
Now, Stand. He calls your wandering spirit, Now to bless.
Come, find rest, open arms, your Abba will express;
His crazy, wild, wondrous ways-all logic He defies;
At last will find a cloth and kiss for your sighs,
A scarlet robe, ring, song and lavished love, your dress.
As sweet lovers draw near, eagerness draws nigh;
His laughter-liking stands with open arms
To her; with each step she charms, her love disarms
All fear found with loss love or heart's sigh;
Each fragile soul wants deep care and blind eye:
Gives all one's yielding appeal and never harms;
See—this passion; singing with sounding alarms,
Offer me to you I do: this is my cry.
Say no word: your sweet-soul-listening;
Accepts love: eyes with tears glistening;
You in all worlds would be sky over me,
You. Your joy runs through me brightening
Soft ever stillness, in silence we flee
To life's places with faces ever whitening.
Copyright©2009 by Bryan Creech