Monday, 30 November 2015

As with Love


moves on, while we wish
we could hold it still.
Expand it to retrieve each precious morsel.

But nothing still holds its worth.
Its value in the passing,
and the measuring of its gift.

Held in freeze frame,
it would only stagnate and shrink.
A still pool reflecting little light.

Its lack of breadth,
closing in on itself,
until its eventual demise.

So instead… 

We let it pass.

Yet, if we look carefully
beyond our apparent loss,
we may see we’re richer

for the moments invested.
The memories enlarging us,
to contain more to take with us.

Yes time moves on,
and we wish, how we wish,
we could halt it.

But time like love
has one true common denominator.
It endures beyond us.

And as with love,
which we only keep by offering up;
so with time, we draw treasure from what we relinquish.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2015

Bethells Beach, Auckland, New Zealand

Tuesday, 10 November 2015


I believe, it is

the wounded things that are
the most beautiful.

And that we break open to the light,
because nothing is meant to remain inside.

Sorrow is but a well of understanding.
Chaos but a path to new revelation.
Pain a pearl that shows us where it hurts,

so that the light may trace
the ache to its source.

I believe, it is

that the weak receive
the strength they truly need.

As dependence brings us
to a full and deep surrender.

Shame is but a robe we must discard.
Guilt, another’s pain breaking our hearts.
Remorse, a path to redeem our tortured selves.

And as weakness girds our prayers with heavenly power,
the light reveals the darkness as a fraud.

And so I believe it is,
when love breaks in.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2015

Bethells Beach, Auckland, New Zealand

Tuesday, 3 November 2015


How would it be if we all hung out our washing together
on the line?
What if we were brave enough to show the faded sheets
with the holes at the end;
the socks that still need darning,
the trousers with frayed hems.

What if we chose right now, to no longer pretend;
to the world, the neighbours, our friends.
If we could shout out, “I’m not good enough,
I’m hardly even close.
Its all pretense, and God only knows -
the truth?”

What if we exchanged our truest selves,
like linen table coverings hanging in the sun.
Plain and laid bare,
with a spot here and there;
that we might normally cover,
with the table runner.

What if we chose not to disguise the flaws,
but let them hang out in the sun.
Whipping in the breeze, free and light.
No longer burdensome,
but at ease in the peace,
of lessened expectations.

What if we were kind? 
Not just to others, but to ourselves?
What if we turned that smile inwards;
and the grace that we have learned to impart,
to other’s failings,
we generously gave ourselves.

What if we were to say, “I’m not good. I’m far from.
But I am trying, as hard as anyone, and that’s enough”.
For saying that out loud, we might just find,
has a magic to absolve us
from the shame,
of all the things we keep inside.

Like washing in the light,
of the sun.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
October 2015

"Most of us need to be reminded that we are good, that we are lovable, that we belong.  If we knew just how powerfully our thoughts, words, and actions affected the hearts of those around us, we'd reach out and join hands again and again."  Tara Brach, 'True Refuge'

Bucklands Beach, Auckland, New Zealand