"The Thoughts are free" - Poetry from within Walls of Gold

By Semira Dikova

Photo by Darius Krause on Pexels

Melancholic blue stirred into grey. Grey as the sky, grey as steel it touched my soul. When the heavy metal of the Cross was thrown into the cold waters, and I... Yes, I sank with it that day.

The wind was howling, the snow began to fall, and the night... With cunning hand, it took the pureness of white and marred it, stained it with shadows no candle could reach.

Photo by Lane Jackman on Unsplash

I fought, but my tongue was wrapped into silence. Was I too weary, was I too small? I shrank into disbelief, a wordless lament. 

Tears stayed trapped, not for lack of sorrow, but for you forbid a sound.

I tried to vanish, but even silence was loud. And when I gasped for breath but found none... The body failed. Betrayed by my own trembling. Fold myself into absence, I couldn't take no more.

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No voice, no will, just shaking and this cry. A cry I never knew I could utter. It surged... A sea sweeping over glass, over fragile things I had built in the past. A past... sometimes heavy, but it led me to Him.

Flooded,

Not just air, 

but soul.

Each breath

a chalice of thorns.

Each heartbeat

a reminder of pain.

Here I am in a prison not of iron, but gold, walls gleaming with false light, unmoving, unchanged. Wounded... Yes, my wings. Dragged like torn linen. Imprisoned... Yes, but listen:

you cannot take Him from me.

Because He

is the silence in which I shall speak.

He is the breath

when I cannot breathe.

He is the freedom

in the chain you laid on me.

The flame in the darkness,

which you obey for dopamine. 

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And yes - the thoughts are free.

The thoughts.

My thoughts.

The ones I laid before His feet

like myrrh of broken tears.

"Be still, little soul, and know Me-

your God, your peace."

I asked only once, not with words but in need. He showed me light. Not one that others saw, but one meant only for me: a thin path through wilderness, thorns but MY path with Him next to me. I walk it now, thoug with broken wings. I walk. 

For the Spirit blows 

where it will.

And it whispers still:

the thoughts are free.

And in Him - so am I.

"The Thoughts are free" - Poetry from within Walls of Gold

By Semira Dikova