Unfold the threads that braved the storm and sun,
The frayed and faded red, the starlight blue,
Its watch is kept, its noble duty done,
Returned from distant seas where freedom grew.
No longer raised to catch the morning air,
Nor guard the quiet dark with loyal keep,
We gently fold the seams with silent care,
And yield the cloth to honorable sleep.
Let gentle embers take the sacred weave,
As burning threads ascend in quiet grace;
No cause for bitter tears or hearts to grieve,
For honor leaves an everlasting trace.
Though vanished from the halyard to the sky,
Its spirit lives in dreams and that never die.
I never wished to be the fire
That found a home already weary.
I only carried the warmth I knew,
Never knowing it would become your ruin.
If I had seen those fragile walls,
The cracks hidden beneath your smile,
I would have held my flames with trembling hands,
Afraid to turn another memory into ash.
You say your home no longer stands,
That every corner became dust.
Yet ashes are only what remain
When something once burned brightly.
I cannot gather every broken brick,
Nor erase the scars my heat has left.
But if there is one prayer I still whisper,
It is that another sunrise—not my fire—
Will one day teach your heart
How to become a home again.
And if, in another lifetime,
We meet before the flames are lit,
May I learn to be a lantern instead of a wildfire.
Like the worst ice cream with a rotten waffle cone.
Ashes I bemoan.
Like a soggy magazine I used to read.
I tore it all up indeed.
In the epicenter of dreaded days.
I’m funneled through this haze.
That urn in the living room seems to squeak and squeal.
Yet never a ghostly reveal.
I wish he would come out of the treacherous ash.
So I can do something rash.
I could scatter the ashes anywhere I wished.
Surely he wouldn’t be missed.
But keeping him, trapped on the shelf.
Helps me reach a higher self.
So I can give him grief while he’s trapped in there.
Remembering he lived and died in despair.
He’s like keeping my least favorite ice cream in the freezer all the time.
Which is my only crime.
Can’t say that about my old man.
But at least I dumped his horrible van.
A new phase
Needs sacrifice
You have to let go
Of who you are
So you can become
Who you want to be
Something goes for something.
You got to let go
Of all that's draining
Endowing what's nourishing
If you want to fly
Give up everything
That weighs you down
Be like the Phoenix
From ashes to a new life.
In a world where love has forgotten its place, lost all meaning, left floundering in the mud—courage has found its nirvanic horizon, its ruby flames rise up in the end~ Poetess
Destroyed, slain,
smashed and driven to the ground~
a brutal odyssey of dispiritedness
of rude awakenings endured
around this, fire kept burning within
intoxicating every vein in my body
when welled up eyes, pools of tears fallen
I was the ocean, the lone firebird that flies over
a lone star ablaze, weightless, free-spirited
and alas, rising from the ashes
in glorious splendor for all to observe and marvel
born outside rose walls, from wind, at night,
from red clay, the flowers and the mud,
weeds and roots they know my name
its not attention I seek, its resonance
smashed and driven to the ground~
ignored, displaced, and all but forgotten
and from this despair, I am the phoenix rising
f r o m t h e a s h e s are the gauze wings,
refined in sapphire gossamer velveteen
walls turn to rubble, no rose-stone left unturned,
left unseen is what most is valued, light sifts thru
I’ve won life’s prize—contentment's invaluable gifts
He stands, golden, cloaked in ruin’s thread,
A radiant god among shadows that writhe.
The scorch of brimstone lingers around him,
Perfumed on whispers where lies take flight.
Hell’s legions bend the knee, adorned in silk,
Doctors, judges, priests, throats stuffed with power.
Their temples gleam with duty unspoken, rotten.
Mouths curl prayers that burn in their teeth.
Apollo waits, for 40,000 breaths of time,
A king of truth in deception’s masquerade.
His hands, a forge of judgment, white-hot.
Will they kneel? Or crumble under his gaze?
Servants wear abundance like shrouds of virtue;
In boardrooms, clinics, altars stained sacred,
Their words, a balm, empty. Ferocious as shadows.
The cigarette flares in Apollo’s cold hands.
Touch their foreheads, he muses, then marks them.
Pain is worship; they sip its poison.
Do they hunger for freedom? Never, they crave;
The one who loves will weigh them all.
The sun god waits, his mercy feral.
Not wrath, but a decision, shaped in flame.
Each condemned by whispers they thought sacred,
His light reveals: the truth has wings, and teeth.
Embers dance, beneath my breath,
Where the heart is crowned.
Time becomes a flame…
Let old be cast down.
A body formed of dust, with fiery brightness thrilled,
And sanctified by Grace’s cooling breath instilled –
No element or creature could have that body killed;
After the fall of Adam, it became
A dark vessel made of coal, with moisture filled.
Coal must become a diamond, holy flame…
It shall resurrect as soul’s own state may claim:
Transfigured, with a new blessed name,
Or in continuously deepening and endless shame.
What is worthless is destroyed by fire
And is scattered by the wind;
Freeing the trapped most pure light,
Forcing diamond's facets shinned.
When silence is the radiance of soul,
And every earthly voice at last is dumb –
The time will roll up like a scroll
And the Eternity will come.
Watch me fall apart,
Watch me burn to ashes.
sin breaks like charcoal
under the weight of mercy
my hands rise clean,
still smelling faintly of smoke
In the darkness of despair where shadows loom,
Evolves the diamond from the ashy gloom.
From fiery trials and pressured pain,
Emerges the diamond struggling - not in vain.
The cuts and chips make the light shine bright,
Revealing beauty hidden from sight.
The diamond in the ashes formed by the flame,
A witness of resilience, it does proclaim.
Each facet carved and every tear shed,
Polishes the diamond and the soul’s thread.
Through disdainful despair, hope still thrives
Like the diamond in the furnace, our spirit survives.
For in the deep dangerous dark and doomed night,
The diamond, the survivor – brilliantly beautiful, bold and bright.
Copyright © 2019 by Crystal David John
(I wrote this poem for my niece who went through such difficulty and yet shone through it all. She continues to face her challenges with God's grace and her own willpower.)
Beauty from ashes, His glory the centre,
Blessed the nation where God is the Mentor.
Raise the banner, lift it high,
Shout the triumph - victory’s nigh.
Let His glory fill our land,
His Name planted where gates still stand.
Turning ashes into gold, a prototype new,
Let go, to receive the new He gives you.
Breaking the chains of sorrow and pain,
Unique you are - His blessings remain.
His favor surrounds, a shield ever true,
Forever protecting, encircling you.
Because in the lonely bed the virgin trembles, spurring the wind to wake from her sleep before the gates of heaven close, before we fade to ashes — and there is nothing that we do not know the true meaning of - Silivester Kiik (2026).
***
The time has come
the sleepy stars
on the shoulders of the old hut
invite us—go
don't turn away.
Behind—the shadow of anger
tears our footsteps
filling the air with footsteps and dust.
The time has come
the stars never acknowledge
fidelity is theirs
because the flowers
in the bride's courtyard
— realize it
don't prophesy
let us go.
For on the lonely bed
— the virgin trembles
drives the wind
awakens from her sleep
before the gates of heaven close
before we fade to ashes
— and there is nothing
that we don't truly know the meaning of.
Atambua, March 11, 2024
***
Note:
I have turned this poem into a song. However, the song is in Indonesian. You can watch it on my YouTube channel Silivester Kiik.
We traverse life seeking coloured feathers
desire silk gowns like fools dancing around
sand grains become ashes spoiling heather
stand we sapped witnesses to contexts found
Halfway we perceive abundant date palms
recall that we are here to live as whole
Almighty requesting kindness and alms
pass infernos with ignorant blind moles
Banish states of limbo lust and deceit
masses of souls circling as if in traps
immoderate are actions though seem neat
wade not in oblivion, find due maps
piano frequencies in harmonies
you will perceive, rejoicing amid ease
Slowly, in the darkness, you will find me—counting the feet beneath the earth—driven by the urge to be by your side and to come to rest upon your hand, before you vanish into the light, never once looking back.
I contemplate, I observe, I watch; yet I neither weep nor laugh, for I am too young to feel, too young to care, when is this all going to end? I want to feel alive again, but your face is everywhere.
I long to alter the very rhythm of my heart’s beat, and to never forget the brush of your touch. Yet as the sun rises, I see your shadow descend into that pristine void you left behind when you departed.
And if only I could turn back the hands of time, I would lay my inner self bare for all to see, holding it gently in just one hand; with the other, I would cradle yours—for though I may watch my own life passed before my eyes a thousand times without cease, I shall never, ever be able to forget your soul.
Slowly, in the darkness, you will find me—counting the feet beneath the earth—driven by the urge to be by your side and to come to rest upon your hand, before you vanish into the light, never once looking back.
I contemplate, I observe, I watch; yet I neither weep nor laugh, for I am too young to feel, too young to care, when is this all going to end? I want to feel alive again, but your face is everywhere.
I long to alter the very rhythm of my heart’s beat, and to never forget the brush of your touch. Yet as the sun rises, I see your shadow descend into that pristine void you left behind when you departed.
And if only I could turn back the hands of time, I would lay my inner self bare for all to see, holding it gently in just one hand; with the other, I would cradle yours—for though I may watch my own life passed before my eyes a thousand times without cease, I shall never, ever be able to forget your soul.
Feel as tho' I'm going to the dogs
it's almost time to pop my clogs
kick the bucket chuck it in
call it a day take a spin
and shuffle off this mortal coil
be released from worldly troubles and toil
buy the farm and bite the dust
or cash in my chips if I must
when D-Day dawns (it's not that far)
a big bang send-off will be my last hurrah
but it's no joke
as should I croak
who will miss me
when I'm long-gone
for no matter where on earth I am
I don't fit in I don't belong
oh well easy come easy go
whether up in smoke or down below
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