Ready made

Everything there is to get
I hold it
I grab it all
all while stumbling over my own feet
thinking of the perfect choreography
to perform a perfect dance
for You
so I don’t have to sit down
or stand still
and hear
how lovingly You crafted me
and shaped these busy hands
you made them just about strong enough
How ready you made these feet
and boy, are they ready
You made them just about ready enough
but now and then
they no longer can
I stop in my tracks
and turn to You
laying it all out, neatly before You
And You tell me
how lovingly You crafted me
and how you shaped these hands
these feet ready made



Love was guaranteed

Love had guaranteed to mend

the wounds in the wall

the fists that were pounded open

would be rebuilt

blood would creep back

and fill the cracks

breaths would be taken

and shoulders would relax

Love was guaranteed


never stood a chance

My days are on charts of the Creator

My days feel like charts on a board of the Creator.
They are never the same in a row.
I believe that I may have a set of three to five different days in a week.
When I say day, I mean the way they feel to me.
I don’t think I have a disease or syndrome, but when I read about people with syndromes, I understand this better.
There are ‘feathery’ days, ‘I’m angry, don’t touch me’ days, ‘everything will work out fine’ days and maybe some more that I haven’t quite figured out yet. I may have ‘feathery’ today, ‘leave me alone’ tomorrow and then maybe something ‘normal’ (what is normal) and the day after ‘normal’ I get ‘all will be fines’. I also have days when I feel so distant from the ‘now’, as if my soul is trying to plunge into the future. On those days, my mind’s eye is in distant places that are both physical and non- physical. Then I feel like I am seeking shelter from I’m not sure what. Shelter and I guess assurance. These days might start out looking like feathery days, but last longer and feel a little bit different. Some ‘distance’ days, I have a lot of art on my mind. In a previous blog post I mentioned museums and travel, I see myself dancing (ballet or something contemporary), painting and feel like writing. Maybe those are the days my soul seeks (taking) flight.
The name ‘feathery’ comes from the way the clouds look on such days. The sun will shine from a blue sky and there will be a few little white clouds. On those days, my outlook to the world is positive and my mindset is ‘I can do this’. But it also feels as if I am in this big bubble and I slightly fear it might break.
‘I’m angry, don’t touch me’ occurs at the moment I wake up. I may or may not be in a stressful situation. On those days I am extra unfriendly, don’t feel like talking to anyone and just feel as if I’m alone on my planet and have to handle stuff myself. Anyone that tries to approach me is a threat.
‘Everything will work out fine’s’ are when I am generally positive. I may be i a stressful situation, but have the power to focus on positive things. I feel quite careless and have extra positivity to brighten up other people’s days. Then I am most likely to smile to strangers and laugh off people and stuff that would normally irritate me.
The thing about these days is that, only people I care a lot about can break through and bring me back to ‘okay, you’re human’. These days generally feel this way up until around noon. By then I will mostly have engaged into work or been ‘neutralized’ by a friend or mostly my sister.
On ‘leave me alone’ I restrain myself from contact on social media, because I am very irritable and have a negative mindset. And believe me, for the Christians out there that might point out that ‘quiet time’ will change this. I have tried and it doesn’t necessarily do so.
I used to worry and wonder whether I was ill. I wanted to grow up and be just one constant way, but I have found out that straight lines can be very boring. I prefer beautiful chaos and colorful disorder.
I don’t trouble myself too much about these occurrences anymore, because I believe I am a person in development. I might remain this way or I might grow out of it. Most importantly, I love myself in every way. Not because I don’t need to become better at being myself, but because that is the foundation of true love.
I understand that the Creator loves me, so why would I leave loving myself to others? Why would you?
‘The self’ is something everyone has to get to know and try to understand for (inner) peace.
I would love to hear or read about other people going through these motions. Are there actually people out there that feel the same everyday?

I want your hands

Give me your hands
I’ll lift them up
I promise
They won’t break
from then on
you won’t shake

Give me your hands
I’ll open them
I’ll show the world
all that I entrusted
to you and that
You are my favored

Show me
your beautiful
let me
run my fingers
through the palms
of them and feel
and know
I’ve been here
and am given total

Can you feel that
Their aching
for mine
Their aching
for my touch
their running over
with thick oil

Give me your hands
show me you surrender
To my perfect plan
my overtaking smile

Let me
take you to the worlds
Your shoulders long to
line horizons with
Your leg wants to
feel oceans with
Your eyes want to
under the sun and
your skin wants to
feel the rain in

Let me lead you to this
In my secret chambers
where everyone can see
This is love for you
and for me

You will get rest.


I know You’re here. Filling my eyes with tears. Holding me in Your embrace.

I know You’re here.

Pulling on my wings, my legs and arms. Urging me to fly higher, to dance more free than I used to be. I know You’re here.

Inviting me in. Into this dance of life with you, making sure that at the end I’ll be at Your table to drink the wine and brake the bread…soaked in mercy and free. Like You made me to be. I know You are here.

Oh yes, my eyes can see and my limbs can tell. The way You are lifting up my head to fully enjoy, see You, scent the beauty of heaven and feel fine sunshine on my skin.

You are here, taking me in.


The cold creeps up my legs
I set them one before another
Wandering further in the night
The morning is still a few hours away
But I swear I can hear the first dew drops dissapear
This isn’t the first night that I walk like this
And there are countless more to come
I feel the stories that I’ve been told mumbling up my lips
A poem about my identity rise up inside of me
I wave it off with a tougth of a wonderful office and cute notebook and sharp pencil to write it in
The soul of my ancestors dance in my mind
Sing a song in my spirit
My hoody keeps the cold wind outside
And gets me closer to comfort
The music in my head sighs under the sound in my ear
Leaving the word of the recording artist somewhere in my heals
In the steps I take into taking over the night
Streetlights in my back cast me further into the dark
Barking dogs hold my hand on my bag
My breath peaks over my lungs and escapes my lips or nostrils now and then
The shadows of the palmtrees and the contoures of my nest drive me to relief
The door creaks as I step inside
The dark is still out there
My heart leaps at the sight of comfort:
A sofa, pencil and cuaderno waiting for my rusttled excitement and the threads of my ancestors, the storytellers that dance in my veins