Poetry

‘Betrayal’ and other poems by Ellie Kelazil

By: Ellie Kelazil

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Betrayal
I don’t remember who I am
when my closest friends tell me they would leave me
(because blood is thicker than water)
and I find all my accusing fingers
falling short of their target and pointed back–
I am the only one to blame.

Ignorance is no excuse for hurting others.

I turn up my music so I can’t hear my thoughts
as they run rampant–Destroying
(my will to persevere).
The lies stampede through my mind,
trampling the hope of Truth
as I struggle to understand how to fix
what I have Destroyed.

Having vices and patterns pointed out
is only as helpful as the subsequent advice
of how to change.

You have made me a Restorer–
yet I leave a path of Destroyed hearts
wandering through my past
(in crossroads with the pasts of others)
as the ignorant child cowering within
fumbles with the relationships of adulthood.

Vices are not immaturity.

My feet carry me miles as my voice internally
screams,
wails,
shouts,
begs
for relief from the agonies
carving incisions into my heart.
I cannot draw myself out of this struggle

of
Destroying Destroyed
and being
alone.
And as my feet grow tired and my body
stops the compulsive walking
(off my problems),
I find You alongside me–
it will be okay.

###

Lies
These Lies that banter back and forth
with my thoughts multiply exponentially–
desperately searching out a crack in my Armor.
They pinpoint what holds everything in place:
Truth.
So many infiltrate, posing as my own:
I am not enough.
I will always fail.
I am a destroyer.
I will never get past this.
I am wholly responsible.
I will always be alone.
I am unworthy of forgiveness.
I will never be chosen.
On
ond
on
and
on
and

The tears murmur the secrets of their
razor sharp swords and of the
lacerations, incisions, bruises, gashes, cuts
that words fall shamefully short of.
Their tactical scheme to recapture my heart
after two years arrives with an unanticipated force–
I want to run (again)
from all of it.

And so I embark on a trek in territory unmarked by man
(save the odd set of footprints
conveying another searching similar relief)
to obtain reprieve from this battle.
I arrive tense and ready
to defend myself from Abba–
the attack has confused me
as to who the enemy is–
and I find my words falling apart
before they can leave my lips.
So I walk my miles through the soft
and sinking sand in relative silence–
the wind rustling the red pines along the shoreline
and the waves gently lapping the shores
as the rain droplets patter into the flowage
offer the comfort only creation can manifest.
As I reach the end of my circuit,
I am bestowed with an understanding:
everything will be okay.

The heavy peace flowing from
that comprehension revives me–
Abba has already won this war for me.
I watch as the Lies pause in their attack,
cowering back as they realize
Truth securely holds me again:
I am enough.
I cannot fail in Christ.
I am a restorer.
I will get through this.
I am only partially responsible.
I will never be alone.
I am worthy of forgiveness.
I have been chosen.
Again
and
again
and
again
and

###

Dis-ease
The dis-ease in my body speaks
of the turmoil disturbing my heart–
discord.
I find myself mercilessly afflicted by
my emotions through the disrupting
maze of mirrors and glass
(where I cannot distinguish reality and perception).
Calm confidence // Distracting disarray
Steady structure // Agitated anarchy
The combat within climaxes
(in physical and emotional exhaustion)
so my assurance melts before me–
what
is
my
ultimate?

You hesitate, not meeting my eye as you
excitedly hug each family member after
months of separation–
distress.
I pause, trying to find you in this
distant person before me
(I cannot differentiate my discomfort from objectivity).
Unsure ultimatum // Promising proof
Absurd assumption // Indubitable idea
My past disorder flares
(by manifesting symptoms)
to further decrease my rationality–
what
am
I
to
do?

When I can no longer stand the
suspense of my diagnosis,
we begin the battle of communication.
Your surety juxtaposing my bewilderment
floors my restless anxieties–
disconcerted.
I analyze the evidence
(looking for the underlying theme)
to find that I invented my malady.
The peace you emanate infects me–
the ease overcoming my body pacifies my mind.

I reach out (to offer you my heart)
and cautiously extend my insecurities to you–
disquieted.
Flutters in my stomach contain my risked vulnerability–
what
will
you
say?

###

Loss
I don’t want to go–
the sand courses through my fingers
quickly as they overflow with their contents.
I hear you are dating again
(despite stating you wouldn’t),
and Loss twinges my heart
as I find feelings straying from intentions.
The sand runs down and over itself
as it continues to slide out of my hold.
Against certain possibilities,
you graduate from high school–
one step closer to your new life.
The sand falls faster through my fingers
as they curl in towards my hands.
I watch as you are driven away to your
new (bigger and better) life,
leaving this place you have called home
for eighteen years in (fearful) pursuit of improvement.
The sand slows to a trickle as the granules
decrease in number, still escaping my grasp.
Letters appear weekly in the mailbox–
I cannot contain my excitement–
informing of new skills, lessons, challenges,
discouragements, and whispering promises
to my hopes.
The sand dissolves from my clutch.
Several hours after vacant months are not enough
(to satisfy my longing for quality time),
and I don’t want to go.

Life goes on despite wants–
I look down at my hands to evaluate
the remainder of their contents,
but (to my surprise) they are full.
I never held the sand I feared fled from me,
but instead a thing with feathers:
Hope.
Confusion reigned as I felt her
weight shift in my hands–
improper perspective.
And how could I dream anything else
(of You, Abba)?
Your promises are not
empty,
void,
false,
so I look up and whisper my gratitude.
She takes flight
(leaving my cupped hands)
to embark on a journey far and long–
and a tear trails down my cheek as the joy
and the sorrow blend into one another.
So I stand with arms out,
hands never leaving their post–
I await her return,
because life goes on despite wants.

###

Not the Strong One
I am not the strong one,
so I have a request:
do not let me wonder.
do not let me wonder what we are
do not let me consider what is not
do not let me fantasize about potential
do not let me entertain feelings without commitment
do not let me feed your wishes
do not let me reinforce my dreams
do not let me live a lie

I am not the strong one,
so I have a plea:
do not fall.
do not fall into passivity
do not fall out of conviction
do not fall past rationality
do not fall out of place
do not fall into temptation

I am not the strong one,
so I have a petition:
listen to Abba.
listen for direction
listen to Truth
listen for guidance
listen to wisdom
listen for His voice
listen to advice

I am not the strong one,
so I make an appeal:
talk to me.
tell me who you are
tell me what we are doing
tell me when this could work
tell me where you see Abba’s hand leading
tell me why this cannot work now
tell me how I may pray for you

(I have never been)

(where we are going)
(may never be)
(when it is not reality)

(if you truly care)
(you know better)
(to fruitless end)
(you promised never again)

(I am not presently)

(where it destroys)
(Abba does not)
(permit false belief)
(into invented life)
(feeding mere wishes)

(I may never be)

(where are we going)
(who are we)
(to what end)
(will we act)
(instead of ours)
(Abba’s)

(my strength is of Abba)

(in His plan)
(I am unsure)
(when                           )
(my hopes cloud vision)
(I need you)
(to be the strong one)

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Categories: Poetry

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7 replies »

  1. Okay, I’m sorry, all likeness or dislikeness for the poems at hand aside (I did not particularly enjoy any of them, very primitive form and emotional work),
    Did the last composition refer to Swedish-based Pop-band Abba as an all-knowing being? Or am I literally insane in even assuming this?

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