Hovering Over My Deep

Lately, my body has been feeling heavy. 

I wake up feeling the weight of my responsibilities pulling me down like a boulder sinking in the sea. Life caves in on me, leaving me confused with voices running through my head, speaking chaos out of sync, draining out the Voice that was once leading me. 

I find myself lost in a vortex of fear and uncertainty. The unknown path seems endless…suffocating…overwhelming. I wish to speak, but when I do, things from the deep emerge, enveloping the room. 

I feel vulnerable as my words imprint everything surrounding me.  But I don’t know any other way to let the layers of me be seen. 

Does the One who created me see me?
Does He see my chaos? 
Does He see my void? 
Does He see my pain? 
Does He see me? 

I’ve been hallucinating, deceived by the voices in my head and the grief sitting in my chest. I started to believe the lie that I am not seen. In my darkness, I heard a voice whisper, “There will never be light here. Stop believing.” 

But something or should I say, someone was hovering over my deep. I heard His voice speak. Light spoke, piercing through my grief. Wonder filled the atmosphere as Light spoke life to me. 

Yes, my daughter, you are seen, but do you see Me?
Do you see me working in the mystery…in the unknown…in this grief?
Do you see the layers of my love for thee?

How I bring order to the chaos of the darkness of your grief?
Do you see that I am with you, entering the maze of all your complexities?
Do you see Me working beauty in this grief?
Unexpected joy and delight are waiting, forming in the shadows of the deep. 
My light erupts forth like a symphony of the sea. 

My child, do you see Me?
My child, do you trust Me?

Do you trust that I am good?
That I will transform your chaos into something to behold and call good?
Will you trust My voice and let it speak into your void?
Will you let Me hold you through this?

Will you call Me good?

Author's Note

I wrote this poem after spending a day alone wandering through the Balloon Museum in Chicago. Each art installation was designed to explore emotions through creative, playful ways. God met me in an unexpected way. I was shocked by the joy and wonder He invited me into while I was carrying quiet grief. I stood as silver balloons danced around me, accompanied by lights and music. It was there the Holy Spirit whispered, “Let there be light.” It became a sacred reminder that His Spirit still hovers over the deepest places of our hearts darkened by grief. He doesn’t simply hover over it. He speaks to it, bringing beauty and light to our void.

In His Love,
Danielle Kelly

Genesis 1:1-4 is the Scripture read in the video above.