#safety poems on Hello Poetry

preston Mar 17

She stands at the Well.
But she is not alone.

A voice speaks—
"You have no husband, do you?
Not just one—not two—but many.
And still, you are thirsty."

She freezes.
Because the voice is true.
Because she is seen.

But she resists.

"It’s not just the men…"
Her hands tighten.
"There is another ‘her’ inside me.

She fights. She *****.
She wants destruction and hunger and chaos.
She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t stop.
She is the one who makes me want to throw myself from a cliff
just so I don’t have to deal with her anymore."

"She’s gonna do something crazy," she whispers.
"And I’ll be gone. Like I was never even here."

The voice does not flinch.
"Then let Me meet her."

Silence.

A storm brews behind her ribs.

The "her" within her stirs—
The dark one. The wounded one.
She crouches behind the rocks, clutching her shame.

The other "her"—the one who still believes—
She wades into the water, hands lifted, reaching for salvation.

One moves toward the Light.
One remains in the shadows.

"You see, Lord? She does not belong to me.
She belongs to the dark."

A pause.

"No," The Spirit says.
"She belongs to Me."

The rocks begin to shake.
The water ripples.

Behind the trees, the dark "her" presses her back against the bark,
watching the water, watching the other "her" wade in.
She wants to believe.
She wants to step forward.

But she remembers.

The love of man is dishonest.
The world swallows and devours.
Every time she has trusted, she has been burned.

"The water will steal me," she whispers.
"The light will dissolve me. I will disappear."

But the Spirit does not demand.
It does not chase.
It does not force.

It only knows.

"You are afraid that surrender will erase you," the Spirit says.
"But you have already been erased."

The words cut deep.
Because they are true.

"You live divided.
One ‘her’ in the shadows.
One ‘her’ in the light.
Neither whole.
Neither free."

The dark "her" clenches her fists.
"You don’t understand her," she spits.
"She needs me."

"No," the Spirit says.
"She needs Me."

The trees begin to shake.
The wind rises.

"Come, little one.
I have been waiting for you."

She takes a step forward.
The trees do not stop her.
The rocks do not hold her.

The dark "her" and the one who waits—the one who believes—
They are not enemies.
They are not strangers.

They are two halves of the same soul.

And Love—
Love has come to bring them both home.

The Art of Salvation

River running..
That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself..
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,
praising..

Worshipping
the true nature  of the flow,
Believing..
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

Retreating
up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,
  weeping.

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,
participating

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
    Believing
.
As I am leaving;
Believing

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes..
https://youtu.be/PgRafRp-P-o?si=1A3rb7ajt_ZPlMW2

xox
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4407079/the-art-of-salvation/

"Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--
In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love"

youtu.be/i-kHleNYIDc

            ❤️❤️

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4736547/children-of-the-quakies/
xo

#love #childhoodtrauma #fear #pain #hiding #warmth #safety #magic #forgiveness #eternity

Abbott J Hardison Mar 16

Feel Safe

Is it true,
That a man who yearns,
Becomes a man who earns?

I yearn for you,
More than anything else,
For your sweet tender lips,
Softy milky skin.

But I already earned your love,
So can I earn something for you?
I want you to feel safe,
And stop feeling sorry.

I wish I could be there for her always

#feeling #safety #love #earning #yearning

Abbott J Hardison Mar 13

I Love HP!

A place where I feel safe,
Where my art is noticed,
Where I am somebody.

Raise your cup for a toast,
"I love HP!"

This is a great place

#love #hp #poetry #safety #toast #art

Angelica Agatha Villanueva Mar 13

Yours to keep

I’ve dreamed of a place where I can rest,
Yet I never searched with hope- still, you found me.
Your warmth, your touch, your eyes-
They awaken something I thought long lost.

It isn’t fantasy, nor is it a dream- I can see it now.
Ive grown accustomed to wandering through gardens of thorns, yet you chose to hand me nothing but delicate flowers.

You are what I couldn’t fathom to dream of.
You kiss my scars, and they begin to heal.
You stitch my wings, and I learn to fly.
You cultivate a field of wildflowers,
So I may run free beneath the open sky.

Unrelentlessly fighting with ghosts of my past, You breathed life into what was fading.
For you, I lay down my sword, my shield, my armor-
You’ve rendered them useless.
With your love, your strength, your unwavering devotion-
The past never stood a chance.

I revel in the thought of our souls entwined,
Dancing through lifetimes before this one.
I see my future filled with dreams that only a rare few could ever grasp.

So take my hand and lead me forward,
Through fields kissed by golden light.
With you, love is not just a fleeting moment,
But the quiet eternity I never thought I’d find.

Even if the world should darken,
Even if time dares to pull us apart,
Know this-
My love for you will outlive the stars,
And in every life, I will find you again.
And my heart- it is and always will be truly yours to keep.

#love #eternal #healing #trust #safety #dreams #soul #destiny

Maryann I Mar 11

Whispers in the Comment Threads

—a poem for the broken quiet of Hello Poetry

This was meant to be a haven—
ink-stained sanctuary
where silence could bloom into verse,
where hurt could heal
in soft stanzas and shared breath.

But now—
every scroll feels like stepping
through shattered glass.
The comment threads,
once stitched with kindness,
now rip apart at the seams.

Accusations buzz like hornets,
each reply a stinger
piercing deeper into fear.
Names thrown like knives,
defense and damnation
fighting for dominance
in spaces meant for peace.

I see poems
not of love, not of loss,
but of monsters
lurking behind usernames,
of children caught
in digital snares,
of moderators gone silent,
as if safety were a forgotten draft
left unpublished in the void.

I haven’t spoken—
not yet.
But I feel the shadows
pressing against my page,
wondering if one day
they’ll find me,
slip through my poems
with sugary words
and hollow hearts.

What if I mistake poison for praise?
What if I smile at a trap
thinking it’s just another reader
kind enough to care?

I haven’t been touched by it—
yet.
But that doesn’t mean
the fire isn’t creeping closer.

I write in hope,
but I carry worry like watermark—
invisible until held to light.

So I ask,
not just for myself,
but for every young poet
finding their first courage here:

Where are the watchers?
Where is the warning bell?
Who guards the gates
when predators write poetry, too?

I want to believe
this space can be better.
That we are louder than the silence
that lets evil grow.
That we are not just witnesses—
but protectors,
word-warriors
with sharpened pens.

Because poetry should not be
a hunting ground.

And no poem
should end in a wound.

This piece is not meant to call anyone out directly. I’m simply expressing the overwhelming emotions I’ve been carrying while witnessing everything unfolding lately. I just want this space to feel safe — for myself, for younger poets, for everyone who comes here to share their voice. That’s all.

#awareness #safety #concern #overwhelming

Gideon Mar 8

169/27 "Whisk Me Away, My Love"

Whisk me away, my love.
To lands of enchantment,
With streams of milk and honey
Flowing past trees as tall as castles.
This lifeless place is nothing like
the realms I wish to visit with you.
I am in need of saving,
Like a damsel in a high tower,
I am trapped in a dull world.

Oh, whisk me away, my love.
To a cottage in the woods,
And let me sew in a rocking chair
While you carve me a small trinket.
As we sit by the fire together,
I will think about the place I am now.
I am in need of saving,
Like a grandmother stumbling.
I am unsteady on my feet.

Please, whisk me away, my love.
To safety and comfort.
A quiet apartment is all I ask,
With warm tea and warmer hugs.
Watch the sunrise with me,
As we watch TV with the dog.
No longer in need of saving,
Like a feral cat with a forever home.
No longer scared for tomorrow.

#love #escape #safety #comfort #rescue

Abbott J Hardison Mar 4

You Can Live In The Light

I know it's so scary,
But you can find safety here.
Lay soft in sleep,
I will guard the bed.
Make a sword out of my pen,
So I can slash at the night terrors.
I'll be a warrior in the dark,
If it means you can live in the light.

If I am not to pass on the safety I was given, who am I to have it at all.

#life #light #safety #night #terror #darkness #fear #love

Maryann I Mar 3

Home

Home is not home.
Home should be safe.
Home should be warm,
a refuge, a haven, a light in the storm.

Home should be love,
gentle hands, soft words,
a place where hearts are heard.

Home should not be fear.
Not shadows creeping down the hall,
not silence heavy, cold, and small.
Not walls that whisper cruel goodnights,
not the sting of words or hands clenched tight.

Home should be safe.
Not a place where pain resides,
where truth is twisted, love divides.
Not where voices crack like whips,
or where exhaustion grips and grips…

Home should be safe.
Home should be bright.
Home should be laughter spilling through the night.
Home should be warmth, should be rest,
should be peace where weary hearts nest.

Home should be safe.
Home should be home.

#home #safety #love #loss

Abbott J Hardison Feb 10

IllNeverLeaveYouAgainIKnowWhatItsLike

I used to cry when I was alone,
I was scared of people leaving me,
I was more scared of getting used to it,
I have to thank you though because now,
I have no reason to worry all of that because,
I have you to stay with me and you have me too.

I'm so sorry I left you that first time around knowing how it felt to be left.

#leave #safety #sadness #depression #happiness #learning #fear #lost

Jack Groundhog Jan 26

Helter shelter

While passing by a great Gothic church,
I see sullen skies begin to glower:
a looming wicked curse
above the church corona’s tower.

With bruised blue clouds brewing black
in the bellowing wide heavens,
hearts pounding, all shrink slowly back:
Blazing bolts scream and threaten.

Here comes the gale force shrieking wraith!
Take shelter from the storm
in the stout fortresses of your faiths
built with those who keep you warm.

For though some tempests last
over rocky spans of fears,
all the maelstrom’s wrath must pass,
even if it lasts for years.

In these sturdy stones you’ve laid,
rebuild for the coming of new days.

Inspired by current events as well as by a photo I took of St. Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh last August: https://bsky.app/profile/jackgroundhog.bsky.social/post/3lgnrtak3gs2u

#storms #endurance #safety #community #faith #friends #crisis