A Year of Creating Dangerously Day 357: At Home


Self portrait on color diffusing paper, pen and ink and markers

Ronald Kok, Self portrait on color diffusing paper, pen and markers, 2017

There is very little of the “Christmas Spirit” in this but a whole lot of real.  The season can amplify the battle each of us fights inside. I wrote a psalm about that battle, and the one who won’t leave me in spite of it all, a couple of days ago. Here it is:

At Home


Homeless at home in my heart


Stubbornly throwing buckets of Hope

On my hopelessness


I can’t seem to shake you


No matter how far I drift

In the current


Dragged along with the weight

Of failures




This dark country closes in,

Suffocates me


My days are sometimes filled with



Nights filled with pain,

Restlessly resting


I wonder if I’m fading,

Maybe disappearing


A shallow shell that once seemed full


Dreams no longer exist even

In dreams


My heart punctured, lacerated,

Beat up


I want to let go


I want you to let go


But you won’t


Dammit, you won’t


A dark heart doesn’t put you off


Embracer of failures,


And fools

You put flesh on bleached bones


Warmth washing over the icy gaze




How is it possible?


How can you be Hope




You are ignored but

Never offended


You are treated like shit

But never despair


Despair looks like a tin shack


Next to your skyscraper of



You could dwell there,

It’s a perfect fit for you


But instead you bed down in squalor


At home in my heart


-Ronald Kok

December 20, 2017

3 thoughts on “A Year of Creating Dangerously Day 357: At Home

  1. Greg says:

    I’m hoping the writing and visual art is cathartic. You’re not alone brother.

    Your psalm reminds me of some of David’s.

    “I’m tired of all this—so tired. My bed has been floating forty days and nights On the flood of my tears. My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears. The sockets of my eyes are black holes; nearly blind, I squint and grope.”
    ‭‭Psalm‬ ‭6:6-7‬ ‭MSG‬‬

    Or words from Bob:

    I’m going out of my mind, oh,
    With a pain that stops and starts
    Like a corkscrew to my heart
    Ever since we’ve been apart

    I heard him comment on people’s appreciation of this song and the album, “I don’t know how someone can get pleasure out of so much pain”.

    I don’t think it’s please as much as connecting with a shared experience. And, the shared experience offers hope.

    Praying that Hope continues to take root in the squalor of the tin shack.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks, Greg. Part of this year has been finding the nerve to put stuff like this out there. The reality is that we all deal with incredibly deep shit in our brains and spirits. It isn’t always fun to live in your own brain. But it is great when people reach out and let you know that you’re not alone, that you’re not (completely) nuts. I greatly appreciate your encouraging words and, even more so,, your presence – albeit virtual. I’ve no doubt about your heart. Peace, brother.

      Liked by 1 person

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