Poetically Restored: A Journey of Healing

By Kayla Hanks

At the beginning of 2020, I was challenged to pick a word I felt God would use throughout the year to grow me and remind me of His goodness. After a week of praying and mulling it over, I finally got it: restored. I did not realize what this year would entail, but I did know my God was mighty enough to restore all that the locusts had eaten away (Joel 2:25). Poetically Restored: A Journey of Healing incorporates my personal story of healing that I experienced through the emotions and challenges addressed within this book: hope, God's faithfulness, anxiety, depression, love, praise, life.

It was only during the process of compiling these poems together, creating a book, and having the finished product that I realized what these poems were: God's journey of healing for my heart. God had begun writing this story way back in the day when I started writing poetry at the age of eight. As you walk through my journey by diving into my world of words, I hope and pray He brings healing into your life too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638440765

Book preview

Empty Drum

What have I become?

This tittle-tattle of an empty drum?

Am I really so very alone and numb?

Thump, thump, thump.

I am nothing but the wetlands’ pond scum

That silently beats to a forgotten drum.

Tsk, tsk, tsk

They all say, when they judge me for my life

In all of its attributes.

"Shame, shame, shame,

You, for being so free yet despondent,

In such a state, you will not succeed."

Ring, ring, ring

Their tattling never to cease.

Alive, alive, alive

They fail to see,

To even try

To understand, yes, indeed

I am truly alive.

Breathe

Driving down these roads,

Like the constant waves

That crash against the shore.

Alone, I walk these paths,

Alone, I travel this journey.

Again, again the trials faced

Alone, I embrace

Facts that point out flaws,

In humanity that allow

My lonely state.

Alas, it is not mankind,

But God who lets the clock,

Ticktock.

Till the final breath

Of every soul.

Driving down these roads,

Like the constant waves

That crash against the shore.

Strong, I walk these paths;

Brave, I travel, alone.

The Chapel

Amidst the glass, stained,

Hued light pierces true

Acute speckles flit all about

As if dust from heaven itself,

Has fallen upon this place.

High beams, never-ending walls

I sit on this rigid yet comforting

Pew.

Many may feel small, pathetic

In this pace where the Almighty

Seems beyond the light’s reach.

Only if they’d take a fleeting

Moment to acknowledge

His presence, Him with them

Emmanuel.

The fearful would flee their

Fear, their eyes would gaze

Not with judgement,

But with awe in the reminder.

Even in a place so vast,

Seemingly pompous,

One can sit with Christ

Within, next to Him,

Not distant as if a galaxy

Away.

Rather close amidst our