Love is never wasted,
never buried.
Have you made peace
with that perennial ache?
When she orbits again,
give her your blessing.
Tell her you consent to her desire
and her sorrow,
but only for a moment.
//Nostalgia, 2/23/2019
//Collette Kristevski
The One who ordained
such a dubious marriage
between the dependable tree
and the wily bird,
also found it profitable
to intertwine
the trustworthy branches of you
with the anxious wings of me.
I, the bird;
you, the tree –
an inseperable we.
//You Are My Home
//Collette Kristevski, Jan 2019
My head is bowed down,
but not in prayer;
it’s heavy with sanctimony.
Speedily I enter thought –
that untamed forest of brooding, –
where I dwell like a recluse;
an anchoress of devotion,
not to a god,
but to the self;
detached,
not from sin,
but from salvation.
//Hypocrite
//Collette Kristevski, Oct 2018
*art and words are my own*
The monsters we once were
still come out to play.
Sometimes we fail
to keep them caged.
These passions still need healing
in all of us.
//Monsters
//Collette Kristevski, 2018
*All words and art are my own*
Please
hear the
texture
and depth
of my words –
how they house
the truth
of my being.
//Words
//Collette Kristevski, 2/19/2019
Euphoria delays herself
as Lethargy runs free
and tethers to my binded soul
that aching reverie.
I told her, “Come, please make your home,”
time creeps immovably,
but wistful dreams and slothful gaze
prolong my Apathy.
The Wonder that once caressed my soul
now sings Despondency,
and still the clock hand whispers slow
against His “Come and be.”
–Despondency by Collette Kristevski
* This poem is the fourth post in the series, Death to Despondency. Click here for the first post to read from the beginning.
Ortho-paradox-ia 