pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: Anxiety



Incredible image courtesy of  Lars_Nissen_Photoart, on Pixabay

He asks what my hardest moments have been, pressing me to purposely reflect on a life that has been primarily appreciation-inducing.  I had parents who loved me well and modeled life; relatives who enveloped and affirmed me; friends who have laughed with me, and accepted my limitations; a sister with whom I can celebrate differences and honor common blood; children and grandchildren of limitless love; a husband who gives selflessly and fills my gaps; a Savior who has walked beside me since my earliest days.  These thoughts of great blessing bring easy breath and grateful tear.  Not that I have not experienced occasional pain.  Loss of loved ones.  Moves I did not want to make.  Divorce.  I have not been exempt from affliction.  But searing misery has come from a single source:  The suffering of those I love.

There is no torment
more incapacitating
than wanton worry.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019



One wretched event
is not one wretched event
once it deeply roots.

© Marie Elena Good, 2018

And What of Joy?


This world may have some issues I can’t solve –
Some great enough to trigger pain or fear;
Some threatening to make my life revolve
‘round stresses, whether certain or unclear.

This fallen world may never right its wrongs,
May never be at peace, nor ever learn
The value of a love that seeks and longs
To emanate affection and concern.

Though incidents endeavor to destroy,
To pierce our heart’s contentment as a knife,
My Jesus, how I thank You that my joy
Does not depend on happiness in life!

Unending joy of sinner-been-set-free,
Your grace and mercy are enough for me.

© Marie Elena Good, 2015

To Shed What Light? (sonnet for a darkened past)


She can’t quite grasp event(s) she feels occurred
That may have cast the pattern of her life.
No clear recall – just senses that are blurred,
Yet sharply pierce her present, like a knife.

Hypnosis could enlighten, she was told –
Could bring to forefront what she had suppressed.
Perhaps what had been quelled could then unfold,
And with it, this foreboding put to rest.

And here am I, unable to convey
My hesitance to urge her in this quest –
When everything inside me wants to say
Some incidents might best remain repressed.

 Yes, were my past so dark I could not see,
I would not seize the lamp and turn the key.

Photo credit: http://succube.deviantart.com


1186768_689906361030766_1280240593_nShe used to speak with longing
Of faraway lands,
Of engaging the charmingly unique folks,
Of getting a first-hand sense of their lives abroad.
“But I don’t speak the language”
Always kept her stateside.

She used to speak effortlessly
Of shores she knew only through books.
Slowly, nearly imperceptibly at first,
She noticed words were not
Readily available.
“What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yes …”

She began speaking less,
As words needed time to percolate to the surface,
And that took time folks didn’t seem to have.

She eventually quit speaking.
She didn’t know the language.

Where hope finds me_edited-1