When I came home from a long walk, my door was a little open.
I thought you had shown up to talk, but then I felt more heartbroken
As I thought you wouldn't, for how cruelly I spoken.
thieves condemn thieves
renting breath from the open air
news repeat theft.
I held the broken pieces tight,
Afraid of what the empty space would bring,
Confusing the shadows for light,
And clinging to a bruised and brittle thing.
I prayed for eyes to truly see,
Then turned away when truth began to speak.
Making excuses, bargaining to be
The anchor for a bond already weak.
How easily the heart defends
The familiar ache of carrying what is gone,
Calling it love when someone bends
The spirit until quiet peace is torn.
Yet mercy worked beneath the grief.
The sudden silence wasn’t cold neglect;
It was a shelter, a swift relief,
A sacred wall the Father did erect.
Not every traveler along the way
Is meant to walk the path where grace resides;
Some doors are closed so we don’t stray,
Some hands unclasped to stem the rising tides.
So now I loosen every plea.
I yield the ache, the wondering, the strain
Trusting God, who rescues me
Who never creates a hollow space in vain.
© Deborah Seale 2026
/Boom Bap Reverie
Crates cracked open in dusk-lit basements/
Needles tracing dust on grooves of gold, Soul samples looped—forgotten statements resurrected from wax, stories retold/
Basslines thump like city heartbeats, Hi-hats flicker, snare drums snap, old school wisdom in concrete streets, Cyphers ignite in a boom bap trap/
Chopped horns echo in subway tunnels, Scratch of vinyl, a DJ’s prayer, Freestyle poets, words like funnels pouring truth in the midnight air/
Apollo Brown dreams in sepia tones, Soul-worn records, crate diggers’ pride, Underground kingdom, built on bones of legends who never died/
So, spin that hour of rare instrumental. Let nostalgia ride the groove in every sample/ Hip Hop's past is still on fire/, and hip hop’s spirit finds its truth/
I left the curtains open for you
Just in case you decide to visit
If you ever decide you want to see how things are going,
I left the curtains open for you.
If you ever want to see how far I’ve come since we last spoke
I left the curtains open for you
The curtains are always open
But the window is locked.
And so is the door
I don’t want you to come back in
I didn’t want you to know you were welcome
The curtains are always open
Even though I doubt you’ll ever pass by the window.
The room is stripped of shape and shade,
Where colors blur, and contours fade.
No mirrors watch, no eyes critique,
As silence yields to what they seek.
The music breathes, a sudden tide,
A map that forms from deep inside.
The cello hums against the floor,
A heavy footstep at the door.
They step into the weightless air,
Unbound by sight, immune to stare.
The treble sparks, a silver spark,
That cuts a path across the dark.
They spin on rhythms felt, not seen,
The space between becomes a queen.
A tilt of chin, a sweeping hand,
They trace the contours of the land.
For sight is bound to wall and stone,
But movement claims the sky alone.
They do not miss the candle’s gleam,
Who dance inside the fabric’s seam.
I was hurrying by the spooky house when the door creaked open.
Hopin' it was just my imagination, I hesitated a moment too long
for suddenly a creepy voice from inside beckoned me to enter...
I froze when a waft of cold air hit me and I heard words of a song...
Come inside, and we'll have a bit of lunch and a nice spot of tea
I shook my head in total disbelief and told my feet to move along
but they seemed to have a will of their own and didn't listen to me
What am I to do to escape the siren's call? To her I don't belong.
Just then it was I heard a murder of crows, flying low overhead
Another omen that I never should have chosen to walk this way
But then one flew close enough to me, and this is what it said,
"Leave your shoes behind and run...You'll be dead if you stay,"
I gulped and gasped and managed to get my feet to obey
I could feel the pulse of heart beating double time in my chest
The crows kept circling above while darkness was filling the day
I'll not become the victim of the house and be laid to rest!
I tried to heal my open wounds
I always seem to feel
They've gone away
But the scars still remain
And the ones on my heart
Will never heal
They wear me down
Tear me apart
I grieve for my old self
When the only pain I felt was a scraped knee
I wish I was okay
But I never will be
So I pretend
And wonder when it will end
But I’ll be fine
I always am
But I keep trying to heal
To feel real
And maybe im not
open door to Oz
the wizard shuts door in face
left holding broomstick
The earth below fades to a distant haze,
As I ascend beyond the rush of days.
I catch the current, seamless, cool, and strong,
Where skyward rivers pull my path along.
I stretch my wings and tilt into the bend,
Where draft and motion effortlessly blend.
To ride the rushing wind is pure delight—
A boundless devotion to the gift of flight.
No friction drags, no gravity can hold,
As endless skies of sapphire blue unfold.
I love the freedom in this weightless stream,
Forever soaring high inside the dream.
Icy tufts, monochrome white
Descend beneath cloud cover
To meet the unexpected
Leap of children's tongues.
Hug me, praise me, like me
Slap me, curse me, kill me
Destroy me so thoroughly I won’t have room left for pride
Open me up until I have nothing left to hide
Just tell me it’s love
And I’ll be your pure little dove
unfinished sunlight
lingers on the open door~
a thought almost whole
Break open your alabaster box of worship,
Let precious praise rise, a fragrant ship.
Do not let the enemy steal your song,
Unlock your praise - it fits you strong.
Let praise be on your lips day and night,
The praise factor will disarm the fight.
Your songs lets go of yesterday’s sorrow,
And positions your heart for a brighter tomorrow.
Lift up those hands inscribed with victory,
Lift up your eyes to the Lord of ancestry.
Not through the scales of your situation’s mist,
But see Him rightly for who He is.
The Bread of Heaven, the Sovereign King,
In this season, greater fruitfulness will spring.
Be settled in His Word, press in and stay,
Let it be unto us according to His way.
a book left open on the table
holds its breath~
waiting for the reader
to return.
the page doesn’t complain
about being abandoned;
it simply keeps offering
what it has.
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