brittleeallen

The Control We Don’t Have (a poem)

The Control We Don’t Have (a poem)

I hear myself say it.
“Oh, how I wish he’d let go
of the control he doesn’t have.”
And my heart is pricked.
Because I know,
that’s a word for me too.

An anxious mama
mothering an anxious little boy.
I think,
what could be a bigger
train wreck?
But I know God is trustworthy.
And he’s given us each other.
A mama who can empathize
and a little boy who acts as
mama’s little mirror.

He will be faithful my sweet boy
to grow us both.
And to be with us through
the tears we both shed.
And the years it takes
for us to feel
safe,
secure,
at peace.

May I be a safe place for you
here on earth.
But more than that,
may I point you to Jesus,
Our refuge.
Our security.
The place where peace is found.

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Heart Weeds (a poem)

Heart Weeds (a poem)

The crabgrass creeps in,
weeds reach high toward sun rays,
across the full length of what’s meant to be a flower bed.
They seek to overshadow every bloom and cover every inch.
But beauty reaches higher.
Abiding, abiding.

And I think of my own heart weeds.
The ones that try to prowl upon my soul,
telling stories of unbelief, loneliness,
and a God who forgets his promises.
But I believe
beauty reaches higher,
by the grace of God alone.
Pointing me to the Son.
Abiding evermore.

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But I’m Okay (a poem)

But I’m Okay (a poem)

And ever since that day
when I sat in your cold office 
hands on my lap,
ears hearing wounding words,
heart taking heavy blows,

I’m scared to tell someone when 
I’m not okay.

But really,
I’m okay.

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Do You Remember? (a poem)

Do You Remember? (a poem)

a poem for my sweet husband on our ninth wedding anniversary.


Do you remember
how in the beginning
I took offense to your joke
that I should sew?
“Not my type.”
Famous last words.

Do you remember
months of friendship and laughter and Bible study later
I changed my mind?
Nine years now and
I still choose you.
I will always choose you.

Do you remember
the waddling duck before us
as we walked the path
ahead of our friends
when we got lost in our conversation?
I knew you’d be my husband.

Do you remember
when we walked for the first time
our favorite trail
on a warm February day
and you held my hand in your own?

Do you remember
how I forgot the people in the pews
and wiped my lipstick off your lips
on the alter
when I became your bride?

Do you remember
how many bobby pins
you patiently took from my hair
before we could
become one?…

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So Does This (a poem)

So Does This (a poem)

A single tear
drips
on the bed
as I stare at the white wall we painted when I felt 
hopeful. 

Depression is a funny thing;
you don’t always see it coming.
But it comes
crashing
like those waves at the Outer Banks
that almost drowned me.
We laugh about it now, 
how silly I looked running from the shore.
But it scared me.

And so does this.
So does this.

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Heavy with the Weight of You (a poem)

Heavy with the Weight of You (a poem)

I’ve always been intimidated by poetry. Reading it sometimes makes me feel dumb and writing it? Goodness, I’m not sure I have any skill to offer up to a reader. But as I spent many weeks filled with many hours unable to walk postpartum, I started reading poetry. And this is why I now have a Google doc titled “Poems that are Probably Terrible”. I’m doing something brave here. I’m starting to share them—even the ones that feel a bit raw and untidy. I hope that they will resonate with a few of you.

I’ll be saving them all to a section here on the blog called “Poetry”. I’ve really enjoyed dipping my toe into this type of creative writing. I hope you enjoy reading them.


I sit,
cradled arms
heavy with the weight of something so
beautiful
breathtaking
unbearably precious.

My wrists ache under your body
and the joy your tiny frame 
has brought me.…

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