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You are the voice. We are the echo.
The Echo
Taylor University, Upland, IN
Saturday, June 22, 2024
The Echo
A4(PhotoprovidedbyChelseaSpringer).jpg

Fine Arts Feature: Chelsea Springer

My Heart and Soul

Author Bio: “My name is Chelsea Springer. It has always been hard for me to use my voice growing up, I often felt as if I was not capable of standing up to my bullies in elementary and highschool. I never used to believe that my voice mattered, until I started writing poetry. Whenever I would write, I felt closer to God, and I felt as if I could release my emotions. When my pawpaw passed away last year, it inspired me to write even more, as well as to participate in “I Gotta Sound” and “Mosaic Night” even though I was afraid. When I write, I don't just write for me, but in hopes that I can inspire and help others. Everyday is a battle for me, dealing with grief, depression, and anxiety, but nonetheless my pawpaw is my inspiration, and he is forever in my heart. My inspiration behind starting the Heart and Soul Poetry Club was my pawpaw’s passing. In my pain, I've begun to find my voice and see that there can be beauty in my pain.”

“My Heart and Soul” By: Chelsea Elise Springer
Life is but a vapor that is here for a moment, then disappears at the drop of a hat. 
Pain is beauty found underneath the ashes and the wounds and scars found deep inside the heart.
One’s greatest struggle is gold found in a mine that has been hidden until it was dug up.
Death is a phantom, that continuously shows up taking the one’s I have loved, and burying them in the grave, 
It is a ghost that haunts me still. 
Tears are the daily bread, that my soul eats, what my soul longs to understand, even the silent tears that fall from my heart,
Trying to understand my tears and the story that each one of them holds. 
My heart is a rose surrounded by thorns, trying to survive, amidst the wars that rage in my soul, 
The battle between life and death, 
Trying to find the light amidst the darkness, 
In the midst of the hurt and pain.
Life is a puzzle piece, 
A map, 
A forest.
As the snow falls from the sky, and I feel the cold breeze hit my face, 
I am reminded of the cold seasons in my life,
My life that at times has been a drought, 
Where the river has stopped flowing, 
A storm, 
Dark valley, 
A broken potter,
A lump of clay. 
My soul has cried out within me many nights. 
The child within me has been crying out, 
Because at times, 
My soul has become my prison, 
Where I have been trapped, 
Bound, 
My soul has become like a broken-winged bird. 
Searching for the light, 
Searching for Jesus,
To rescue me from the 
Fears and pain that haunt me,
That eat at my flesh, 
Like a crow.
Life is not a bed of roses, 
But beneath those roses lies, 
The cold, painful realities of life, that are not told in story books, 
That are not told in fairytales. 
Death is one of those realities,
It is less of a fantasy and more of a horror story, 
A nightmare, 
I wish I could wake up from, 
But yet it reminds me of when it first came into my life, 
When it first came knocking on my door, 
Leaving me no warning, 
Of the damage it was about to cause. 
I sit and wonder, 
What life would be like, 
How it would be different, 
If they were here, 
If they were still here with me. 
Trying to make sense of the memories, 
And the memories I never had. 
Trying to make sense of what I feel deep down inside.
I have felt as the deep sea, 
With floods overwhelming my soul, 
More times than I can count, 
death has entered my life.
I can’t brush aside the pain and hurt I feel, 
Like a paintbrush, 
I can’t paint a beautiful picture, 
That shows the sun shining through the trees.
I can’t ignore the pain that again has struck my heart, 
Like lightning. 
I can’t ignore this thing called Grief.
For it has showed up again, 
Before I even had the chance to deal with him before, 
Before I had the chance to grieve my paw paw. 
Now I’m faced with my great uncle,
Who was taken from me before I even had the chance to say hello.
Now I have to create a new story, 
Because my life is now different,
Then I even realized it could be.
Life is a mystery.
Life is full of valley’s,
Full of journey’s,
But also full of healing.
So, my soul like a flower, 
Scarred, wounded, beyond words, 
Thirsty,
The ground beneath me cracking, 
no rivers or streams in sight, 
Wrapped up in my grief, 
Wrapped up in my tears, 
Closed off from the sunlight, 
Colors fading
In the garden of life, 
Trying to hold on, in the storms that this life brings, 
Waiting in the garden, 
Hoping that I can find the light that warms the coldness in my heart, 
that breaks through the darkness around me, 
that gives me life, 
Amidst of the decaying of my heart, 
Beauty for the ashes, 
Light that eases the pain within, 
Light that warms my soul, 
Light, that heals  the deep wounds and scars, that reside deep within,
Light, that shines on my tears, shines on the hurting petals in my life,
 that have blown away with the wind, that seem to have no more life in them, 
Whose colors have faded.
Light that shines on my pain, revealing the beauty beneath my pain
Light, that gives my petals new colors, 
So, 
I sit and wait in that garden, 
And I wait for the one who bears my pain with me,
Who holds my scars and wounds ever so delicately in his hands,
I sit and wait in that garden, 
Until I find the light.