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    (Un)Wholesome
    (Un)Wholesome
    (Un)Wholesome
    Ebook142 pages43 minutes

    (Un)Wholesome

    By Chelsea Bartell

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Chelsea Bartell's debut poetry collection, "(Un)Wholesome", is her purest and most heart-wrenching testament to her belief that immense growth happens after your afflictions. Bartell vividly captures her growing pains in order to guide her readers through theirs. She speaks fiercely on the importance of a woman's independence while, graphically, teaching her readers to demand the respect they deserve. To accept love that replenishes and nurtures and to discard those who aren't willing to reach those lengths. She hums from a swollen heart as she recovers from a love she thought would be the last only to find there were more lies than truths, more manipulation than there was love. She hashes out her anger with her absent father by using letters she wrote but could never send. Bartell wrote this book with the intention to heal the wounds of the human condition. After reading from cover to cover, she hopes you too, will come into your fullest truth, despite the anxiety, lack of, anger, frustration, and confusion people believe hinders our growth.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChelsea Bartell
    Release dateOct 16, 2019
    ISBN9781393768586
    (Un)Wholesome

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      Book preview

      (Un)Wholesome - Chelsea Bartell

      I hope this book finds its way into the hands of someone who needs healing.

      The palms that dug

      Through your Earth

      To reveal your

      Sugar coated soul,

      Burned fiercely with

      Every violent swing

      Of your hammer

      Driving nails through

      The hands that

      Wiped away tears and

      Held your body

      With gentleness

      And sincerity

      The same hands that

      Cultivated your ruins

      Into a home for the

      Both of us

      You nailed those

      Pure hands to a cross,

      Bared your teeth

      In a devilish grin

      And, crowned me

      Not as the royalty

      I deserved

      For nurturing a heart

      That never encompassed

      Any love for me or

      For damming your flood

      So, you wouldn’t bleed

      From their absences

      You ignored my

      Attempts to heal you

      Instead, you made me 

      A crown of thorns

      Watched the blood

      And tears stream

      Down my tender face

      You laughed from the

      Darkness of your heart

      Because I paid for your sins

      I died for every

      Goddamn wrong

      Placed upon my own

      Heart and you get to

      Be free from it

      -crucifixion

      My flesh, torn on

      The jagged hearts of

      Those not meant for me,

      Have done nothing but liberate me

      I was meant to ascend higher, further

      And deeper, into myself

      For those of you that

      Wanted to return my love,

      Thank you.

      Thank you.

      Thank you.

      You gave me

      The opportunity

      To love myself with

      My entire broken heart

      The more fractured, the better

      It’s the black between the stars

      That holds the whole sky together

      -i choose to believe in reconstruction

      Maybe people are afraid to touch you because you're a masterpiece.

      They’re afraid of my magic staining their soul. They’re afraid of me basking in my own grace and pure artistry? I’m proud of my composure and anyone that’s afraid to touch me isn’t rooted properly themselves. Once they discover the art resonating in their flesh and bone, they too will become a masterpiece of paramount beauty.  

      Maybe people are afraid of you loving yourself.

      They should be afraid. I foster the energy of the Earth. I can conjure hurricanes with my words and, I can be the beginning and end of everything. I was afraid to love myself until I became aware and could authentically speak my gospel.

      Maybe people are afraid of understanding you.

      What is it they’re afraid to comprehend? Is it that I understand myself and they don’t? Do they not know the bounds of their authenticity? Do they fear my authenticity? There’s nothing to fear. My truth is this, I have a deep, unwavering desire to help and heal. I want people to experience their validity circulating through their veins and somehow that’s intimidating.

      Maybe people are afraid to meet the artist.

      I have stared pensively at intrepid masterpieces; where souls are spliced wide open and born onto canvas. It’s so irrevocably there— the graceful blend of haunting darkness and divine light. I quiver. I too, was intimidated and fearful to meet my artist who bore her soul so vulnerably. Now, I proudly swipe, splatter and smudge my goodness everywhere I go.

      -it’s good to be feared

      I made a religion of you

      Sang pleasant songs in your name

      Dedicated verses to you

      Whispered grace hoping

      It might reach you

      Prayed for you to

      Restore the holes in me

      I worshipped until my

      Hands were tired of

      Folding and my voice

      Cracked on sweet words

      Your verses became

      Decorated fallacies

      I made a religion out

      Of something unholy

      You’re nothing

      Worth worshiping

      If you can compromise

      My spirit without an

      Ounce of respect for

      The heartache that’s

      Anchored itself to it

      You thought you were God

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