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July 2025
HP Poet: Bekah Halle
Age: 40+
Country: Australia


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Bekah. Please tell us about your background?

Bekah Halle: "I am known at HP as Bekah Halle. My first name is Rebekah, and Halley is my middle name. I am the eldest of two girls, the aunt of three gorgeous girls and the eldest of 20+ cousins.

I am a counsellor and a chaplain for people across all ages. But, in my early career I was a PR & Marketing Consultant for FMCG companies and non-profits.

I am creative and love art, drama, photography, poetry, and music. Recently, I have become more captivated by nature, writing about it and being out in nature."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Bekah Halle: "As a child, I used to love writing stories, and poetry later. In some ways you could say poetry found me. In 2012 I had surgery to remove a brain aneurysm and AVM that resulted in a stroke and then being in a 40-day coma. Healing involved many modalities, locations and years and poetry was a way for me to express the things I was thinking and feeling but could not say. I didn't show them to anyone until I completed a MA in Chaplaincy and during the course, there was a reflective writing element to process our journey. During this time I brought my poetry ‘out of the closet’ or into the light, and shared with people and they encouraged me to continue writing. I looked for ways to share my poetry, to get feedback and found HP! And you all have been very encouraging!"


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Bekah Halle: "I mostly get inspired by faith and life. I can get a stirring from the Holy Spirit and/or I can be in life and see a moment as special or in a new light and want to capture it in words. I will write, re-write and set it aside or sometimes it comes to me in a flash. The poetry writes me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Bekah Halle: "Life. Expression. Hope. Extolling God."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Bekah Halle: "I studied Samuel Coleridge in High School and still remember his poems today. The Psalmists in The Bible, Emily Brontë, Sylvia Plath, Victor Hugo, Mary Oliver, Jane Tyson Clement, Rainer Maria Rilke, David Scott…to name a few."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Bekah Halle: "The power of gratitude, fitness, travel and learning."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Bekah, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Bekah Halle: "Thank you for the opportunity."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Bekah a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #30 in August!

~
my heart is a landing pad
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
breathe in
breathe in
i cant catch
breathe oubreatheinbreatheinbreathein
I see myself in light and shadow.
I wipe away “always and never” like spilled water,
when the paradox bothers me.

I dissolved my soft boundaries,
in the name of unreal faith.
So many places, so many faces,
yet another beginning.
I keep rolling a big stone beside others.
The home I dreamt of now exists in my world.

I have found this time, this place
describing what cannot be translated:
a room for uncertainty,
farewells and returns.

I like to stand in the last row,
to see tired bodies.
I whisper good words,
to make the world a little better.
My sovereignty is a willingness
to be an echo,
the symbol, the myth,
or a meaningless element
in the chain of woven stories.

I love metaphors.
I find myself in a forest of ellipses,
that bring unbearable truths.

Tensions, contradictions,
awareness that everything that lights
brings unseen weight.

I am a part of stories,
to vanish into oblivion—
the done past.

The Earth still breathes with me,
or without me,
among blooming linden trees.
So, I want to stay,
to open my eyes,
and be with what remains.
To my Father
"And I notice you go like this a lot"
He says
He's demonstrating the pinching and slapping of my arm I frequently do
I thought no one noticed...
But he did

Tears roll down my cheeks
I'm so grateful
So lucky
And then I notice he's writing something down
And I hear him talking about a plan
A plan to train my dog to help me
He's going to do it

Someone I know
Would do that

Someone that knows my flaws
Traumas
Scars
Would do that

And for the next 30 minutes
I just sit there
Wiping off my tears as they come
Wondering how I got so lucky
Wondering how I survived before
And I wish he was there in person
Not just over call
Because I wanted to run up to him
And give him the biggest hug

He said I deserved one
I cried then too
I sobbed
He has no idea how much he means
How I would climb to the moon
To make him smile

And he says he hates his body
He says he looks like a girl
But I just look at him and wonder how anyone could hate that
How could anyone hate that?
But I can't say anything
Because everyone will start their chants
"Liana and __ sitting in a tree..."

And yes it's kind of pathetic
I only have one person in my state I feel comfortable calling
Only one I want to talk to
But I couldn't ask for anyone better
Because he's everything wonderful left in this world
And I can not thank him enough
For even just existing
And giving a **** about me
Genuinely
This is the tree I used to go to,
to see the night sky from the top of the hill.

Back then, there were days where
I said weak things under the stars.

A lot of dreams left unfinished,
A lot of me left worthless,
A lot of me feeling a little,
All in this silent hill.

Dreams I wished to keep, because others gave it up first.
Too many in fact, that I lost myself trying to save them.

How could I even achieve them? Ethics, science?
Trying my hardest wasn't even good enough.
I don't think I could do this alone anymore.

As I lay in front of this planetarium of broken dreams,
I fight against the unfathomable truths that shoot on by.
I close my eyes.. Forevermore.

...

This is the tree I used to go to,
to see the night sky from the top of the hill.

Back then, there were days where
I said weak things under the stars.

A lot of dreams left unfinished,
A lot of me left worthless,
A lot of me feeling a little,
All in this silent hill.

But, this is the place where I continue to dream some more.
How could I even achieve them? Ethics, science?
I don't think hard work can do it alone.

But... I want to keep taking chances on these crazy dreams.
Because even if they sound like that to most...
I believe, I can make these dreams my destiny.
I’ve got plenty of ink, it’s my paper that’s shot
I can only write a few words, that’s all I got
Quick to write, slow to understand
I’ve got a fast mind and a slow hand

I had to scratch out some lines
I was trying to find some rhymes
But now it’s over, I think I’m done
Looks like I penned another one
I've been working on my Poet Lament volumes. This is out of #4. Hope you like it.
I leave it to you with fondness.

How you used to fill it on those lazy Sundays
with fresh blooms from the neighbor's garden.

You would blame the kids from across
the street and we'd laugh
as their dad chased them around the yard
with a belt.

And when they would die, as they were wont to do,
you'd replace them with your paranoid
king's fiddlesticks.

He'd come out of the castle in a dither.

But you always convinced him
it was the handiwork of little green men
--who looked very much like
the kids from across the street.

Ah, remember the fire and how we danced?

Yes, my dearest captive
--the face that launched a thousand ships--

I leave it to you with only the warmest sentiments.

Love, Paris.
I went down to the water; I saw the waves washing by
They flowed and they swayed, in the ripples was the sky
Reflections; they danced, I saw the world in a dream
Every river flows to the ocean that started in a stream
No one sees what I see; the mind’s eye is each its own
No one feels what I’ve felt or knows the things I’ve known
Lost in the water I can find all I need
I can’t stop the water; only follow where it may lead
I went down to the water to see what I believe
I went down in the water and I’m never going to leave
Please enjoy
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