Category Archives: Blog

Seeing Red…

blood redder


by Rhiannon C Hall


The streets run red
From brokenness and blindness,
From self-destructive hate of Other,

And yet,
Can you point out
Which pool and spill
Came from you?
Which came from me?
From “us”?
Or from “them”?

You can only revel
In the power of your anger
That painted our world red
Because it wasn’t only your blood that was shed…

But, if we are one creation,
Wasn’t it?

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Posted by on 15 August 2017 in Blog, Poetry


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Born Without a Whisper


By Rhiannon C. Hall – August 2017

We have many births in life
As we cross thresholds of strange doors
We could never fathom opening
And we

A piece of ourselves
We’ve always held…

I was born when I fell
Into the mud,
When I was pushed
Beyond my balance
And landed
Into a foreign space
Of laughter
And jeering,
Because I stood up…
And changed

I was born when I closed
My eyes into a dream of
Wings feathered with words
That stretched to the horizons
And let me shed the weight of reality
With each turning page

I was born
When I met you,
When your smile
Was my first breath
Filling my lungs
With a tomorrow
I didn’t know I wouldn’t see

And I was born
When I woke up to that day
Without you

And I was born
With tears and screaming
And seven pounds of
Why am I here?
And how many bitter pills
Until this ends?

And I was born
In the clinging to one more day
And one more chance
And one more prayer
To make this dance beautiful
Despite my graceless feet
And clumsy songs

And I was born
Without a whisper
As I knew that I was moving
Beyond who I was
And into who I could be
And that any given moment
Could be the next birth,
The next life,
The next incarnation of who I am
And who I’ve always held
Somewhere inside…

There’s a song I’ve loved for ages called “When I Reach the Place I’m Going”. It was recorded both by Wynonna (Judd) and by Patty Loveless. As the years progress, I find deeper and deeper meaning to each line. But, there is one line, “I was born without a whisper”, that seems to resonate anew with every new season in my life. I played the song the other night and that line brought up so many images from different times or rebirth and I had to sit down and write.

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Posted by on 7 August 2017 in Blog, London Summer, Poetry


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By Rhiannon C Hall – 4 August 2017

I take a deep breath,
Try to squint at the swirl of words
In my heart and
Pick out just one
That makes sense,
That resonates with the Truth
That I seek from You.

I’d anchored down the word I didn’t want to hear
Because I KNEW You wouldn’t say it;
And as long as it was an option,
It would fog my vision.
As I stared into the turbulence
That ebbed and flowed around
The questions
That seem unanswerable,
You resurrected
From the deep
The One,
Having loosed it’s chain
From the weight of all the pain
From all the hope deferred…

And it took my breath away…

But still I try
To accept the word
That I didn’t want to hear
As Your answer,
And still I try
To see its resonance
With the evidence
And trust that Your ways
Are higher than mine…



This poem was written as part of Five Minute Friday. This week’s #fmfparty prompt was “Try”. It’s interesting to me to see what happens with the half a thought that I can almost grasp when I set the timer for five minutes and try to write. When the timer beeps, I’m usually a little surprised. I know this piece is not what I intended it to be, but it may be exactly what it needed to be…


Posted by on 4 August 2017 in Blog, FiveMinuteFridays, Poetry


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By Rhiannon C Hall – 21 July 2017


I look at my empty hands

Freshly freed from their beloved burdens

And I wish this season were more about collecting

Than letting go…

And I wish I could even hold my wishes,

But they slip through my grasp

Like the smoke accompanying the genie

From the lamp…

And in the emptiness I hold,

I see it,

I see what I have gained

Through all this loss:

The scars,

The tough and tender reminders

Of thorns

And wrestling

With what could have been

A meant to be

Or maybe always was

A never was…

And I close my hand

And feel the skin

Flex and stretch,

Ready to hold its destiny,

Ready to be seen

In its perfect reality,

Stripped bare and empty…



(This poem was written in 5 minutes as part of Five Minute Friday. The prompt was “Collect”.)


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by Rhiannon C Hall 13- July 2017

Sometimes we have to be brave. Sometimes we have to put ourselves so far outside of our comfort zone that it doesn’t even make sense. Sometimes we have to risk getting knocked on our ass, punched in the face, or even getting our heart broken by the very dreams that fueled its beating for so long. We may call it horrible or amazing. We may even call it both.

And it will hurt. And we will cry. And we will grow. Why? Because if we don’t, nothing will ever happen for us.

I’ve spent over 2 full weeks in London now and I don’t think I’ve felt brave very much of this trip. I’ve felt stupid, scared, lost, tired, sick, poor, and pitiful quite a bit of the time. I’ve also been blown away by the beauty and the history. I’ve been flattered by attention and overwhelmed by crowds and comforted by friendships. I’ve felt a lot of things that come with new territory in life, but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago when a friend said she was trying to be brave like me that it hit me… I’ve felt stupid, scared, lost, and all those other things because I was brave enough to try something new. I was brave enough to get on a plane with too much luggage and not enough money and an unplanned plan and hope that something beautiful would come from this trip, that I would find the pieces of my soul that have been trying to surface for a long time.


Parts of London have been amazing, but parts of it have broken my heart. It can seem so ruined and reconstructed and ignored. I found myself wishing it were a little less scarred by change and the lives that have hurt it over the centuries. Some have even hurt it by the very nature of surviving here. And yet, in our ruins, we are proved alive. In our scars, we prove the staying power to hold our ground and keep breathing, to shake our weary fist in the face of whatever tries to destroy us and say, “Sure, you took a pound of flesh and brick, but I live on.”


I walked past a sandstone engine block at the Royal Arsenal Riverside with a danger sign posted. I looked at this pieces of the past, this beautiful ruin, and I wondered if, perhaps, that is part of the point of living… To be ruined. Only when we are ruined can we be restored. And somewhere in that restoration lies so much beauty and value and love. Can there be redemption if there isn’t loss first? Can there be healing if we aren’t a bit broken? Can we have true beauty if we haven’t been burned to ash? Maybe some will see us and post their own mental “Danger” sign, but others will see the beauty of our lives well lived, or at least, lived.


So tonight, as I walked by the River Thames, so fully aware of the trash by the park bench and the grime on the barges and the aching changes of all the inevitable construction in every direction… I saw myself reflected back. I saw my scars and my fears and my less than sparkling aspects and I saw all of the “under construction” of my own life, not static and rotting, but fighting to grow and thrive. Bravely breathing and putting ourselves out there a little further, trying to be the best beauty that we can be, the truths of ourselves that dance forth from our depths as we remain inhabited by all of the variety of dreams and hopes and tears that we each hold, this city and I.


The tears may flow like a muddy river, yet the sun shines on us both and our textured ripples shimmer in its rays. Sometimes it spotlights our scars, sometimes it casts shadows over them. Our lives blossom forth, sometimes wild, sometimes cultivated. We have been knocked on our asses. We have been punched in our faces. We have had our hearts broken by some of the very dreams that fueled their beating. But, neither London nor I can say that nothing ever happened for us. Because we are brave enough to put ourselves out there and live and we have the ruins and the restoration to show for it…


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poem by Rhiannon C Hall – 26 June 2017

The sun will come out
And shine on the world
When something I’ve dreamed of,
Something I’ve clung to
Through years of darkness,

Something I’ve worked for,
Hoped for,
Been scared of,
And cried so many tears over,
Will start

I’m watching the hours count down until
But it has been unfolding for so long…
Each and every today that has danced through my life
Has been a step along
The journey,
And tomorrow is merely another step.

I will leave my comfort zone.
I will step beyond a line
Of never again being able to say:
“I’ve never”
Or “I’ve always wanted”,
And my foot will fall into the space of:
“I am”
And “I have”…

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Posted by on 26 June 2017 in Blog, Poetry, Uncategorized


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London Summer 2017

My name is Rhiannon. I’m a writer and have long dreamed of seeing England. When I say “long”, I mean I can’t recall a time in 39 years when a mention of anything British in a book or on tv didn’t stir up feelings of longing and trigger a million daydreams. I believe God calls us to things, nudges us with desires that may seem ridiculous to others, but they are pieces of our path in life, our destiny. I believe this trip is part of my calling. Obviously, money is an obstacle or I wouldn’t be here asking for your help.

If you’d like to help, you can donate here: Rhiannon’s GoFundMe Campaign

Can you be a collaborator in my journey? Can you give (even small amounts help) to make this dream a reality? I promise that I will take you along with me, not just in spirit and in my prayers, though I certainly will do both, but via my blog and social media as well.

You can find my blog here: Be the Beauty – Rhiannon’s blog I will be including a “London Summer” Tab soon to make it easier to follow along!

So, let me explain my dreams:

As a writer, I know I can ramble for ages about being brave, taking leaps of faith, and following dreams. I have done my share of those already but, they have mostly been confined to the realm of my small and predominately risk-free life. I need to put that philosophy into action and spread my wings. Writers need adventures to fuel their imaginations and world views, to grow and connect with people so that their words can reflect that growth and return that connection to others. If I only live in a bubble, I will only write within that same scope. I want to use my writing to glorify God and show the realness of faith. As my friend Ronne said, “Faith isn’t airy or nothingness. It’s got heft to it. It’s weighty. It’s more real than reality.” This journey is my faith in action, following the voice of God far beyond my comfort zone and surrendering to whatever He wants to reveal to me.


I want to take you along with me as I blog about my experiences. I’m sure there will be cultural differences between my small town life in the semi-rural US and the big city of London in the UK.

I don’t want this to be just a quick tourist visit. I would love to live there someday, but for now, I am making the most of this one trip by spending two months there, submerging myself in London as much as I can, breathing in the architecture and the history of the churches and libraries and museums, witnessing the grit and grime and beauty and all the intermingling gravity of the lives there. I want to stroll through parks and play the guitar in the shade. I want to write poetry and articles in coffee shops or on park benches. I want to take walks by the River Thames and try to discover why it seems so special in my mind.


One of the first places I want to visit is 84 Charing Cross Road. After the book and movie, I need to know that I didn’t wait too long to follow my dreams. I want to see the plaque on the wall where the bookstore once stood and know that I really did it, I got to reach out and touch something that has eluded me for so many years. I need to know that this was finally real and not a forgotten wish-turned-regret when my life is over.

I’d love to take a pilgrimage to a tiny village in Somerset where a writer who greatly shaped my theology and my worldview is buried. I want to pay my respects and meditate on the impact that we make in the world just by being true to ourselves. I want to marvel with God that He uses every relationship to create ripples through time and generations that we may never witness.


Since I came out as gay nearly 2 years ago, I have longed for LGBT community. I live in a very rural and conservative part of Missouri where I am the only “out” LGBT I know, and definitely the only out gay Christian. That kind of community is nonexistent for me here. I will be there in time for Pride in London to be my first ever Pride event and will definitely be writing about that! (for perspective: Leicester Square alone, which will hold the women’s stage, has a capacity for 5,000 people. My entire town has a population of LESS THAN 3,000.)


My flight is booked. My savings are nearly wiped out. My budget for the next couple months is incredibly tight. Can you help me to make this trip a really special experience? I don’t want anything fancy. Hostels and friends’ sofas will help. But there is still a deficit and I want to be able to follow where God is leading me.

My pastor recently spoke of a man named William Borden. He felt God calling him to be a missionary in Asia. When he died, found written in his Bible were the words:

“No reserves. No retreats. No regrets.”

To me, these have come to mean: that I reserve nothing from God, I’m laying it all on the line to follow where He is calling; there is no turning back, no matter how difficult the journey gets; and I will not live a life of regretting the dreams I haven’t chased or the callings I’ve not heeded.


I am stepping out in faith that I will be taken care of along this journey. I know that God will provide my needs. It is possible that he will provide them through some of you.

I’ve never been good at asking for help, but I’ve noticed God often makes us rely on other people when we least want to. Even the apostle Paul had people giving money to support him as he travelled around to various churches to preach the Good News. As a Christian, I believe that all of our lives, every aspect of them, are part of our witness and ministry. As a writer, I know this adventure will have long-lasting effects on my career. As a girl who has wrestled with her faith and asked God to show her clearly the direction He is calling, I have come to this place where I lay my hopes, dreams, and needs out before you and trust that Yahweh Yireh (the God who Provides) will do as His name suggests.

Amanda Palmer, singer and writer, has a philosophy called “The Art of Asking” which illuminates the exchange between people when they undertake a partnership of seeing and being seen by one another, that one person giving money to fund another’s passion is a two-way exchange where both come away with something of value. As you give, you will be helping me reach me dream. As I live out that dream and write, I will be carrying you with me and reaching back to you with my words and my gratitude.


Seriously, thank you for taking the time to read about my dreams. Thank you for any prayers or positive thoughts you can spare me, including prayers for my safety and health during my travels. Thank you for any money you are able and willing to give. And, whether you can give or not, would you be willing to pass this on in case my story resonates with someone you know? If so, thank you for that, too. Perhaps some day I can return the favour and help you follow your dreams.

This is a song I wrote last year about following God. That is what this trip is about, but it is also what my life is about. (Apologies for the slightly rough recording quality and that it wasn’t memorized since I recorded it the day I wrote it!)

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Posted by on 24 June 2017 in Blog, London Summer



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