Category: Poetry

Poetry · Spiritual

Keep Going, Kiddo (pt. 2 – a Poem)

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Photo by Karley Saagi on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Keep going, Kiddo.

I know that it’s hard

when you’ve been taught all your life

not to let down your guard

and that it’s wise to be

afraid of me.

Keep going, Kiddo.

Only good shall be.

Keep going, Kiddo,

when your mind is tired,

and your spirit exhausted

and your body mired

in limitations and constant lack.

Keep going, Kiddo.

I’ve got your back.

Keep going, Kiddo

don’t throw in the towel

when all your plans run afoul,

when nothing else is going right,

Keep going, Kiddo,

I’m holding you tight.

I’m not waiting to unleash

judgement on you,

because “it is finished”

means it is through.

So rest, my child,

we’re not separate, you see.

I’m already in you.

And you’re already in me.

Keep going, Kiddo.

  • God
Poetry

The Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Dance – a poetry jam

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Photo by Khoa Vu00f5 on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

The foot bone’s connected to the leg bone,

but the joint in between them protests.

“Ankle here,” it says. “And I’m wobbly,

I think perhaps you should rest.”

But no time for that, I say, holding on to my cane.

The leg bone’s connected to the knee.

And to say it fairly,

those knees are barely

even attached to me.

The knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone,

and true, the bone won’t bend,

but where the thigh bone connects to the hip bone,

that socket pops out and back in.

The hipbone’s connected to the backbone

and they don’t really get along.

Where the backbone’s connected to the neck bone,

it doesn’t feel too strong.

And that neckbone connected to the head,

where all my worries are made,

If dem joints dem joints gonna walk around,

I’ll need a mobility aide.

So, strike a Gumby pose with me,

pop and crack in a stance,

for all the ableist world to see

your Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Dance!

Poetry · Spiritual

Healing Arts Heal Hearts

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By: Jana Greene

Yesterday was ridiculous

So I gave in to capriciousness,

And spent the whole day in bed.

I had a party of the pity kind,

Got stuck in my own flitty mind,

Paralyzed by whatever lay ahead.

Today, self care will not look the same,

Instead of practicing that old self-blame,

I think I’ll channel worry into art.

It may not fix my woes

But it might lift my lows,

And give hope a boost in my heart.

Because life ain’t for the faint,

I use words and paint

To express what lies in my heart.

Because life is ridiculous

We must be meticulous

Caring for ourselves though our art.

Poetry · Spiritual

Healing Arts Heal Hearts

Featured Jana GreeneLeave a comment

By: Jana Greene

Yesterday was ridiculous

So I gave in to capriciousness,

And spent the whole day in bed.

I had a party of the pity kind,

Got stuck in my own flitty mind,

Paralyzed by whatever lay ahead.

Today, self care will not look the same,

Instead of practicing that old self-blame,

I think I’ll channel worry into art.

It may not fix my woes

But it might lift my lows,

And give hope a boost in my heart.

Because life ain’t for the faint,

I use words and paint

To express what lies in my heart.

Because life is ridiculous

We must be meticulous

With caring for self though our art.

Poetry · Spiritual

The Purpose and Pain – a Poem for the Struggling

Featured Jana Greene2 Comments

By: JANA GREENE

I have heard it said

that existence is pain,

and that the act of waking up

can be heroic.

Both are true, you see,

on this big blue marble

that we call home,

Wearing these Earth Suits,

prone to disease, disaster, dysfunction,

ill-fitting and troublesome,

here on our training ground.

Mostly things don’t add up,

or seem to have order,

or any logic at all.

So we wander like orphans,

feeling alone,

pain clutched to our chests,

tears in our eyes,

asking one another if anything

makes sense.

Everyone has a little of the Truth,

but no one earthly has it all.

So I clutch those truth bits

with white knuckles,

wondering if I have

any truth of my own to give.

“I can’t stand the pain!”

I yell to no one in particular,

and then to God himself.

I don’t know why in

that specific order,

just learning, I guess.

But learn I must because

here I am,

waking up anyway.

The Intelligence who

thought we were a good idea

has not changed his mind.

Somehow,

pain or no pain,

worldly understanding

notwithstanding,

God is spinning the planets,

and making eternity out of stars.

He reminds me,

(when I bother to really listen,)

that I am just as infinite as both.

My orbit is just a bit wobbly,

but maybe it’s part of the dance.

Maybe the wobbles

are where we learn.

So into the mystic I go,

using the pain to propel me,

as the stars give evidence,

of the vast scale of his love;

his vast love for me.

So you see,

we CAN do “this” again.

Just for today, until tomorrow,

when we get to choose

to do it again.

This day is made

not for the pain

but for us;

for rising again, not as orphans,

made of skin, bones,

and aches and pains,

but as Beloveds.

The Universe above

to watch over us,

The Universe below

to catch us in our unsteadiness,

The Universe beside us,

to walk out the pain in real time,

and best of all,

The Universe inside us, unsquelched,

in the ultimate cosmic camaraderie.

Poetry · Spiritual

Keep Going (Anyway) – a little poetry jam

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By: JANA GREENE

You are loved,

I promise it’s true,

Even though the world

Keeps doling out anew

Difficult things,

The losses of man,

Just keep going,

I know you can.

Keep holding on

And I will too.

Hand in hand

We shall get through,

Together

And with Love as our Guide,

We’ll get through this season,

Me and you.

Poetry · Spiritual

Undone

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By: JANA GREENE

She used to be such a “good” Christian,

Proverbs 31 to the core.

But then she listened to the voice

Who told her to want more.

“More of you, God!”

She would say.

“I’m striving hard, you see!”

“”Why are you striving

So hard, child,

Cannot you simply be?“

The war she fought within herself

Had already been won.

And when she finally

Understood,

She became undone.

“But I must be holy” she said.

And pleasing to your sight!”

“Have I not told you, child,

You’re already salt and light?

And do you not remember,

I’ve already

Won the fight?”

And in the end of warring,

She was learning just to be.

Slowly,

And with great surrender,

She realized she was free.

Poetry

How to Spend Time with God (spoiler alert: Just BE) – a little poetry jam

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Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

“What’s the best way to spend time with God?”

Was the question asked of me.

Which seemed odd

Because my God

Is never an absentee.

I thought the right devotional,

Holy coffee at first morning light,

Following all the rules and laws,

Was a formula for winning the fight.

But now God and I,

Thick as thieves,

Do life together every day.

Every breath is spending time,

Plain speak is how I pray.

I hear his voice in the laughter

Of my beloved friends and kin,

I hear him in the cries,

Of suffering women and men.

He cooks with me in the kitchen,

He follows me to the shop,

We have constant conversations,

Impossible to stop.

A reverie of souls,

Because we’re ONE, you see.

I cannot be away from him,

And he won’t stay away from me.

I need no formal reason

To label time with my Source.

He’s in every place,

Runs every race,

By my side, of course.

Here’s how to spend time with God

If you’re asking me:

Take a deep and healing breath

And just manage to BE.

Poetry · Spiritual

Mystics, Sages (and a love for the Ages) – poetry

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This piece is a labor of love.
Life is so heavy right now. I choose to believe that God is up to his old tricks or radical grace and wonder. I just have to keep choosing that every day, sometimes moment by moment.

By: JANA GREENE

Give me the mystics,

The seekers,

The sages.

And as we study

our sacred pages

for wisdom to guide

our every foot-fall,

“Love one another” is

Most important is all.

Focus on each blessing,

Always favor light,

Keep sharing your heart,

And I’ll keep sharing mine.

Let us choose to believe

that in the end,

God is up to his radical

goodness again.

Love always swings harder,

Love conquers all,

Love comes in first.

And survives every fall.

So I stay Hopeful as a hippie,

in this war-torn place,

As open as a Book

About this deep and messy grace.

May the secrets

Of the enlightened wise,

Be generous

To our wondering eyes.

Let us dare to ask questions,

Beyond any fear.

So you say you have doubts?

Well, you’re welcome here!

Yes, give me the mystics,

The seekers the sages,

And they will direct you

To a Love for the ages.

A perfect love,

For all the ages.

Poetry · Spiritual

Reverence Remix (a poetry jam)

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Photo by Luis del Ru00edo on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Whisper in church, they say.

Be REVERENT in this place,

Shake the hands,

Bow your head,

Pull the mask over your face.

But to revere

Is not to fear,

And no walls contain it’s form.

We are never called to a stillness

To which we can’t conform.

I find that nature

Brings out the reverence in me.

The ocean a temple,

Living water in the seas.

Ebbing and flowing,

Aching with glory,

Nature is where

I write my life’s story.

Give me the forest,

Life pulsing with force,

Growth and blossoming

Running a perfect course.

Reverence is a deer

Pausing by a creek.

Reverence is found in every tear

Falling down a mourner’s cheek.

It’s a whole-body hug,

Hearts so close together,

Synching up a holy,

Hallowed and sacred tether.

Reverence is presence

Living in the now,

With no particular regard

For life’s when’s, why’s, and hows.

The Earth is sacrosanct,

Every inch sacred ground,

And there in that sweet majesty,

I find God all around.

Poetry · Spiritual

Ode to Jeggings

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By: JANA GREENE

And now to lighten things up a bit, a silly poem to cheer you. Blessed be!

Leggings, I’m so grateful
That someone saw fit to create you –
Love child of jeans and sweatpants
Oh how I appreciate you!
Thanks for your stretchy waistband
So I don’t have to suck It in,
Thank you for the mad skills you have
Of making me look thin.
You’re available at Walmart
For just eleven dollars,
And with you in every color,
I can feel like quite the baller.
I can wear you as pajamas,
I can wear you as yoga pants,
And if I were so inclined,
I could wear you to break dance.
You don’t smush my muffin top
Like jeans are apt to do,
But rather gently hug it,
(so damn merciful of you.)
Thanks for being comfy,
And having pockets in the rear,
And for being so soft and warm,
You’re my favorite pants to wear.

  • Jana Greene
Poetry

Wrinkles and Strength – a poem for midlife ladies

Jana Greene6 Comments
Photo by Edu Carvalho on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Girl, you leave that neck alone,

Did somebody tell you

before you were grown,

That our necks get crepey when we’re older,

That we lose our shine,

That we lose our smolder?

Did they warn you about the cellulite?

Did they tell you it would be a fight

To keep your value as you age?

Psh, girl..

You turn that page.

Girl, you hold your head up high,

You’ve worked a lifetime

Getting by,

“We’re getting old!”

We bitch and moan,

We gotta leave

Those negative words alone.

Be kind to yourself

About the lines on your face.

That body spawned humanity,

Show it of a little grace!

They don’t get to dictate

How our lives are spent,

Asking if the best has passed,

And where our beauty went.

We “get” to grow old

And the deeper we delve,

The more we learn

To love ourselves.

Embrace the white hair

Don’t run from it far,

It crowns you like

The queen you are,

And know your value

Show yourself love.

Your newfound confidence

It fits like a glove!

Wear bright colors,

Grow your hair,

Dance to music,

If you dare,

And rest in knowledge

That all along,

The things that gave you wrinkles

Have also made you strong.

Poetry · Spiritual

Ballad of a Mid-Life Mama

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By: JANA GREENE

What does the REAL me want in life?

I’d never thought to ask.

I forgot all about myself

While busy with the tasks

Of raising daughters

And leading daughters

As they were growing strong.

Did I stop to ask myself

For what my own heart longed?

No, I did the right thing

At the time…

I fixated on their wellness.

I hovered and fussed,

I tried to hand them over

To God in trust,

And somewhere in those precious years

I had a little inner-strife,

Because I couldn’t tell you

What I want for my own life.

But ladies?

Ah, now is the time,

To meet this a super Amazing Queen.

The one who looks you in the mirror,

The holder of your dreams,

And take the time to

Ask her plenty

What makes HER heart soar?

Hover and fuss over her some,

Then fuss over her some more.

My mid-life mamas everywhere,

Step into your new dreams,

And be who you were born to be –

A super, amazing Queen.

Poetry · Spiritual

You’re Already Whole

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BY: Jana Greene

I used to tell people,
“God can fix you.”
But now I say,
You’re not broken.
You are not bad.
You don’t need fixing.
You need loving.
Love put you back together,

On the day You breathed your first.
You already have it on-board.
God already inhabits you.
In every loving gesture you express
To humankind (or animal-kind.)
In every breath, holiness.
In every feeling of fresh hope,
In every laugh, sacred joy.
You are whole.
You are not broken,
No matter the evidence
Stacked against you. Keep your head up!
God is FOR you.
You are loved.

Blessed be.

Poetry

A Few of My Favorite Things (a little poem about finding joy ANYWAY)

Jana Greene2 Comments
Photo by Bekka Mongeau on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

The scent of a newborn,

The smile on a dog,

A book well written,

The lifting of fog.

The smiles of my daughters,

The warmth of a cat,

A beautiful flower,

A welcome mat.

Being held

In my husband’s arms,

Crisp fall days,

A snoozed alarm.

The taste of chocolate,

A warm, soft bed,

Good, loud music,

A charcuterie spread.

Friends that “get me,”

A starry night,

Making up

After a fight.

Iced tea with lemon,

Having family around,

The laughter and union

Of new friends found.

These are a few

Of my favorite things,

That (even in a pandemic,)

Happiness brings.

We may have to look harder

For joy these days,

But it’s still around

In so many ways.

Poetry

Come Sit by Me, Anger

Jana Greene2 Comments
Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

BY: JANA GREENE

I made a new friend today,

Well,

I’ve known her a long time.

Her name is Anger and

we’ve been frienemies as far back

as I can remember.

She introduced herself

when I was just a little girl,

but she scared me with her

suffocating presence in my home

and in my heart.

Don’t be angry…it’s unbecoming!

That’s the message driven

into us little girls

like railroad spikes.

And we accept it

because we are told

it’s for a good cause…

our “betterment,”

but mostly for the betterment

Of others,

as it turns out.

So I substituted Anger with Sadness

For most of my life,

hoping no one would notice,

least of all myself.

As it turns out,

anger and Sadness are

thick as thieves.

Two sides of the same coin, really.

Sadness is safer

because it’s familiar.

“Be a good girl,” I said to Me,

my whole life,

especially when I was only little.

“Who are you to be angry?

Anger is reserved for people

Who can afford to

Lose other people.

Angry people are accustomed

To being generally safe.

No one is going to abandon them,

It’s a luxury –

being comfortable with Anger.

And the tax on that luxury

is cold, steel fear.

Because when I’m angry,

I wonder…

what if this person sees

that pissed off side of me,

and leaves…

just closes up shop.

What if I’m too much.

or not enough?

Don’t be angry….You’re too sensitive!…

And the insult of invalidation stings.

I’m old hat

at recognizing a good gaslighting.

I cut my teeth on the manipulation

Of others.

Don’t be angry…it’s not the Christian way…

Aside from one lousy

and very profound table-turning,

Jesus seemed never to act in anger again.

But I believe

Jesus was TICKED on occasion.

Oy vey! How could he NOT be?

Don’t be angry…it’s unfeminine.

Not ladylike at all.

Be meek.

Be mild.

You have a feminine mystique

image to foster.

To which I say…

Welcome, Anger.

I was taught not to associate with

the likes of you.

I was told you would disappoint people

If we hung out.

If I entertained you at all.

Come sit by me, Anger.

It’s okay to use your outdoor voice.

It’s okay to get mad.

This, I tell myself,

as I grab hold of Anger’s hand,

And be okay

With me.

Poetry

Winter Rains (and Spirit Pains)

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Photo by Antonio Dillard on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Hi, Readers. I wrote this poem at 18 years of age, during a really difficult time of upheaval. It rained and rained and rained that winter. I feel like maybe God gave this jumble of words to me at just the right time. So, read gently please. I was just a kid. Blessed be, friends.

The winter rains are cooler now,

The mystic love, it floods my soul,

Gray and blue from above,

And soft brown ground below.

The winter rains seem freer now,

In liberation they have cried,

As water from the sky

Is unrelenting, so I try

To let it flood me,

Embrace the rain,

So I can feel whole again.

I feel no more the dreadful fear,

That made my soul to hate the rain,

The downfalls, they lay bare my soul,

Until I’m drenched again.

The winter rains are plentiful,

But I see them now as water flows,

A season I choose to live quenched,

A season in which I can grow.

Poetry · Spiritual

Wrinkles and Strength – a poem about womanhood and getting older

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Photo by Edu Carvalho on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Girl, you leave that neck alone,

Did somebody tell you

before you were grown,

That our necks get crepey when we’re older,

That we lose our shine,

That we lose our smolder?

Did they warn you about the cellulite?

Did they tell you it would be a fight

To keep your value as you age?

Psh, girl..

You turn that page.

Girl, you hold your head up high,

You’ve worked a lifetime

Getting by,

“We’re getting old!”

We bitch and moan,

We gotta leave that

negative self-talk alone.

Be kind to yourself

About the lines on your face.

That body spawned humanity,

Show it of a little grace!

They don’t get to dictate

How our lives are spent,

Asking if the best has passed,

And where our beauty went.

Embrace the white hair

Don’t run from it far,

It crowns you like

The queen you are,

And know your value

Show yourself love.

Your newfound confidence

It fits like a glove!

Wear bright colors,

Grow your hair,

Dance to music,

If you dare,

And rest in knowledge

That all along,

The things that gave you wrinkles

Have also made you strong.

Poetry · Spiritual

The Wobbly Phoenix (and other thoughts on depression)

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Photo by Andrew Neel on Pexels.com

BY: JANA GREENE

Not feeling brave today, on a day that seems to demand bravery.

It’s demanding a lot of things….

Like being a mature adult,

And keeping the lid on a major freak-out.

Like putting one foot after another,

Which necessitates getting out of bed,

Which itself

is an exhausting prospect.

I don’t feel like playing along anymore,

In this body that is now

More scratch-and-dent

Than wonderous and miraculous,

In a mind that sells the prospect of doom

Like it’s going out of style or something.

In a Spirit that is strong,

But exceedingly tired,

Because every damn thing is exhausting.

And oy vey!

Don’t even get me started

With the state of the world!

Still…

There’s no way out but through,

And there’s no way through

But to start by standing,

Even if I’m wobbly and scared.

“So BE wobbly,” I tell myself.

“It’s okay to be scared.

It’s just not okay to give up.”

So on this day that requires bravery,

I wobble.

I tell the fear to shut the f*ck up,

Because it’s getting noisier than

The actual anxiety,

And that’s why I can’t hear myself think.

That’s why I can’t think myself calm.

It’s not the anxiety

Which is borne of circumstances

And wonky brain chemistry,

And judging the state of things

By what appears to be true.

It’s the fear that feeds it

Like some kind of all all-you-can-eat-buffet

With only food that I hate

Or makes me sick.

My anxiety likes to think ahead,

To really have all it’s bases covered,

But for God’s sake,

I must stop

Worrying about the problems

Queued up after this problem

And remind myself

That zero amount of previous freak-outs

Has fixed a single problem

In the history of ever.

I tell myself,

“Girl, you’ve pulled a

‘Pheonix rising from the ashes’

More than once.

Have a little faith!”

So….

So it has to go.

It’s the fear that has to go.

Life feels itchy and uncomfortable

To let it go,

It’s been my companion

For such a long time,

Like a really shitty friend

Who I thought

Was saving you from hurting,

But really,

It’s just hurting me.

Staying afraid

More itchy and uncomfortable

Than existing in fear.

So I’m letting it go,

Just for today,

Because it’s all I can bite off

For now.

One single footfall,

And then the other.

Repeat process

Until steadiness readies,

And I’m able to steady

Myself.

And that will have to do

As bravery

For now.

Mental Health · Poetry · Spiritual

Eggshells and Elephants

Jana Greene1 Comment

BY: JANA GREENE

I walked on eggshells the other day,

Someone put them there,

People who tend to take offense

Leave them everywhere.

I didn’t want to break their shells,

Though they were in my way,

Gentle footfalls were my intent,

But CRUNCH they went, anyway!

It’s tricky and risky, emotional biz,

To feel like you can’t say a word,

Because someone, somewhere will

Read and misconstrue

Everything they heard.

So keep dropping eggshells,

If you absolutely must,

Let them fall where they may,

If you are still afraid to trust,

But please don’t leave them on the ground,

There’s bigger stomping feet to pound.

The Elephant in the Living Room?

Yeah, he’s still around!

We can’t fix things we won’t talk about,

We can’t deal with what we deny exists,

So sweep those eggshells up off the carpet,

Invite that elephant to sit,

Lets talk about the hard stuff,

And make some headway, Sis.