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These works by Jeni Bowlin are displayed with permission from the author. |
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Jeni Bowlin |
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Breathe
I can’t breathe. Hands press me down into a pool of punishment and pain. I strive to stand. I pry at the hands that hold me in a grip of grief. I attempt to stand again. My feet are kicked out. The cycle repeats itself. My lip quivers, terrified. Fear permeates the waters of my world. I cannot escape.
Wrapped in a blanket of blue, I search the world around me. The surface looms above me. Light and shadow dance in tandem motion beneath me. My hair cascades around me, suspended in the void. My eyes stare unblinking into the distorted images of a world I do not know or understand. Muffled words echo in my ears, insults piercing my heart.
My lungs sear the inside of my chest. I desperately seek the air I long to breathe. Arms flailing, feet kicking, the waters churning, I break the surface. Insecurity splashes around me. Up and down I fight for freedom from the clutches of contorted conformity. Tidal waves of innocent guilt assault me.
Exhausted from the exertion, the water stills. I float wordlessly and lifelessly, except for the pounding of my pulse. A veil of obscurity shrouds me. A gag has been placed over my mouth, rendering me mute. I listen to the sounds of eerie silence in a cesspool of shame. Chains of condemnation, criticism, judgment, and intimidation tug at my body, pinning me down. Tears flow, mixing in the watery grave of my strangled hopes and dreams. The colors of my soul diminish. I am invisible.
Buried beneath layers of forced almost fatal wounds, a scream erupts from inside me from a place of almost primal passion; at first, a feeble cry choked by reproach but soon the shout of a warrior sparring for survival. Treading the water, gasping for air, fending off the hands, a different Hand extends down. I cautiously clasp the Hand and find myself catapulted out of the water, droplets streaming off my body. Rugged arms gird themselves tightly around me. Icy terror floods my veins as I contemplate the new prison I am in. Instinct kicks in as I furiously fight for my freedom. The arms embrace me tighter. I continue to wrestle, to no avail. I sag wearily into the arms, defeated. Lifting my head, I peer into eyes like I have never seen before. A reflection of the pool appears in His eyes like a mirage, vanishing, evolving into a mirror image of myself. I glance away, the intimacy too great, the shame still present. Water trickles over me. Fear seizes me again. I anxiously look up again and find tears flowing from His eyes, bathing me in His sorrow, binding my wounds. Gulping air, I cough and sputter, expelling foul fluid. A breeze stirs my soul. Restorative breath expands and contracts my lungs. I inhale and exhale hope. |
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Colors of Hope Hope is a prism, a kaleidoscope of colors on the canvas of life - a new life in Christ a window, a glimpse into glory a message, tucked in a bottle called grace a waltz, a daring to dance an ache, a burning heart’s desire a waterfall, a cascading of mercies a picture frame, preserving memories a delicacy, savored by the soul a melody, singing through life’s storms a pearl, formed by the oyster of sorrow a gardenia, a fragrance that is sweet an echo, of a place we long to call home a chest, a bride fills for her groom a seashell, collected on the shore of God’s will a longing, yearning to be filled a gem, a treasure of God’s earth a sigh, a life-sustaining breath a piece of driftwood, sanded by the seas of time a piece of coal, transformed into a diamond a redwood, sturdy and strong a sculpture, molded by the hands of God a canyon, carved deep by pain an eternal flame, shining with purity a submarine, plunging deep into God’s love a laugh, an overflowing joy an anchor, stabilizing the fears a journal, intimate thoughts engraved on the heart a gift, opened with care a smile, meant to be shared a seed, yielding a harvest in due season a spark, ignited by passion a portrait, longing to be painted |