Photo by Elizabeth Halt
Photo by Elizabeth Halt

in darkness & light

January 22, 2017

elizabethhalt.com | in darkness & light

i’m rattling the earth
from a cage without bars.
i’m silent as fury
in wars about wars.

i spit and i sputter –
snap crackle and scorn.
i wait and i wither –
beholden and torn.

surrounded yet lonely,
i’m chilled to the bone.
my spirit is weary.
my heart-strings are worn.

there’s chaos within
and destruction without.
down float feathers from angels;
a bomb took them out.

i can’t seem to find me
in darkness and night;
until i remember
i’m darkness and light.

you’re noticed, you matter, you’re worthy

January 16, 2017

elizabethhalt.com | you're noticed, you matter, you're worthy

i have a collection of lake superior stones in my bedroom that my tiny nephew-friend ben thinks of as his stones. one day in december, we spent hours in the bedroom playing with them. we put them in rows; we made cars & trucks out of them; and then we made them into snowmen.

there was this one moment where i got a little teary because i could tell how much he was enjoying having my undivided attention and i couldn’t help thinking that that’s all any of us want: for someone else to give us their time + attention + appreciation + focus.

we’re all constantly asking – without ever asking at all – whether we’re noticed, whether we matter, whether we’re worthy.

(which we are. of course we are. but sometimes we need to be reminded.)

do you see what i see?

January 5, 2017

elizabethhalt.com | do you see what i see

it’s a tiny insect, skimming along the surface of the water.

go, little insect, go!

Filed under
photography

dear 2017

January 1, 2017

elizabethhalt.com | dear 2017

hello, new friend, and welcome.

may you include laughter + adventure + love + wonder.

for each & every one of us.

Filed under
photography

welcome to narnia

December 21, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

in about a week’s time, we received a winter’s worth of snow. along with it, an entrance to narnia.

needless to say, my snowshoes and i are delighted.

elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

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elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

elizabethhalt.com | welcome to narnia

a jar full of delight

November 21, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | a jar full of delight

Filed under
photography, quoting

3am

November 12, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | 3am

it’s 3am –
the dead of night.
my fears have grown
larger than life.

the trees are black
in the blackest night.
they pierce my heart
with shards of ice.

the shadows are long;
they pull me in.
my life seems over
before it begins.

the wolves are howling,
their voices raw.
they’re on my trail,
nose to the ground.

the water is calling;
it’s running aground.
its black depths surround me;
it wants me to drown.

when daylight comes,
they’re all my friends.
the light stops the stories
that swim in my head.

joy is a flamenco dancer

November 1, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | joy is a flamenco dancer

elizabethhalt.com | joy is a flamenco dancer

elizabethhalt.com | joy is a flamenco dancer

it’s me

October 16, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | it's me

one of the nicest things about blogging is the friends you make along the way. because of that, i thought i’d share a photo of me in my natural habitat.

just so you know that i am alive + well + happy, even if i am here much less than usual these days.

i appreciate you, you know. there are so many places to spend your precious time; i am honored that you spend part of it here, with me.

you are one of my many blessings. may you be blessed.

on living & dying & waterfalls

October 7, 2016

elizabethhalt.com | conglomerate falls

in august, i went on an overnight waterfall adventure to celebrate my life with atlas.

elizabethhalt.com | conglomerate falls

it turned out to be the perfect sort of adventure.

elizabethhalt.com | conglomerate falls

at one point, i got part-way down the trail to a waterfall only to find step after step after step. atlas was not a fan of steps, especially in his later years.

elizabethhalt.com | rainbow falls

and atlas was right there with me. i could feel him! i could feel his presence.

then, i could see him. he was laughing. i heard him say, “you wouldn’t have gotten me down those steps!”

elizabethhalt.com | rainbow falls

that’s why the adventure was perfect. it was typical: spontaneous & unplanned & not well thought out at all.

atlas would go along happily – he was game for almost anything – until he decided he was done, and then nothing i could do would convince him otherwise.

elizabethhalt.com | rainbow falls

when i reached black river harbor, i had to walk across a suspension bridge to get to lake superior. it was a hot evening and i had hiked to a few waterfalls already and i really wanted to jump in the lake.

elizabethhalt.com | black river harbor

as i walked across the bridge, there was atlas again. he laughed & said, “you know if i were there, you wouldn’t get to the lake!”

elizabethhalt.com | black river harbor

because oh, did atlas dislike bridges. he liked to feel the solid ground under his feet. if i absolutely made him go on a bridge, even a floating bridge, he would lie down and belly crawl until i finally took pity on him.

again, so typical.

elizabethhalt.com | black river harbor

as i jumped in the lake that evening, i had a huge smile on my face and my heart was full of joy.

joy from the swim in my beloved lake.

joy from the memories of my beloved pup.

elizabethhalt.com | black river harbor

but even as i celebrated my life with atlas, there was a moment on the trail during which i realized that there was another reason i took myself on an adventure.

elizabethhalt.com | conglomerate falls

my grampa died in december. atlas died in june. my grama was dying (she died two days later, the morning after i got back). most of my time for the past three years had been spent with the three of them. now, they were all gone or going.

in that moment on the trail, i realized that i had spent so much time sitting with death, watching death come closer & closer, that this was my way of reminding myself that i was still very much alive.