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Elizabeth Weseloh

Elizabeth Weseloh

Halton Hills, Canada

Elizabeth, an experienced writer with a BA in English from U of T, is able to create intense poetry that, she hopes, will enlighten and engage the reader.

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About the author

Elizabeth and Michelle are simple women with extremely complex minds.
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Michelle Heitzner

Michelle is an accomplished fine artist with a BFA from York University. She is able to connect to the heart of her viewers with bold designs that lift one up, creating sincere thought and speculation.





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Success! What if We Are the Reflection? sold 35 pre-orders by July 21, 2017, was pitched to 25 publishers, and will be published by Goderich Print Shop.

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What if We Are the Reflection?

A Combination of Art and Poetry

Engaging literature that delves into the deepest reaches of the mind of an individual deemed to be ill combined with uplifting art created by a peaceful and joyous soul.

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Memoirs A creation of life
11,000 words
75% complete
7 publishers interested


This work is a combination of poetry written by Elizabeth Weseloh and art created by Michelle Heitzner.

Elizabeth's poetry spans a decade of her life within which she was deemed to be ill. During this period, Elizabeth found her only escape to be describing the intense thoughts she had in the forms of poetry and prose.

The poems were written with the intention of allowing others to truly experience her emotional turmoil while enabling the reader to look within and, hopefully, question their own behavior. Thus becoming a better person as a result of Elizabeth's suffering. 

Michelle's art is a combination of previous creations as well as creations derived from Elizabeth's poetry. It is intended to enhance the experience of this work while creating appreciation for fine art and thoughtful breaks between Elizabeth's continued struggle.

The author and artist hope that these two mediums combined will become a way for the reader/viewer to open their mind to the "alternate universe" some authors/artists seem to experience. 


This work consists of a large amount of poems created over the past decade of the author's life. Inserted between the poetry there will be works of art created by the co-author/illustrator. The poetry and art are intended to enlighten the reader as well as promote self reflection.


This work is meant for those ready to look within and beyond.


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Cyberwit seeks to publish the best in Poetry from novices to established poets. Our published Anthologies and Journal Taj Mahal Review have poems that are sensuous, picturesque and impassioned. The poems reveal a fine combination of human elements of romance and the mystic & everyday realities. Cyberwit has published a myriad of new poets, and an increasingly large number of collections of verse. The significance of Poetry has not declined, and the 21st century seems to be the Golden Era of English Poetry. The name of Cyberwit is known to readers in several countries.

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Maiden Song

Grant the Sun her shine so bright,

I have been lost in the maze at least a fortnight.

Waiting for release from the shackles of fear;

Longing for the love driving through a sphere.

As I glance out the window large,

My wonderment trembles, sinking the barge.

Will I be granted the freedom to see?

Or will all continue the observation of me?

Sacrificial Lamb

I offer myself as sacrifice,

For a world that has turned its back.

I have once, twice, thrice,

And fell through a crack.

I do not wish to be more than I am,

But may be meant for more than I can.

Reaching out, calling a million names,

Response received is belief in a game.

Whom may it be that I need to call?

To steady this ship so none will fall?


On the right I find the answers,

On the left I find opposition.

I want to join the dancers,

Let the world know my position.

One does not only walk with the Whole;

They can dance, skip, to repair their soul.

A recommendation that all must see,

True worship is when down on your knee.

Praise the Glory that brought you to life,

Assist those around you to overcome strife.

Remember Everyman has only one possession.

When your day arrives, cannot have recession.

Be giving of that, which you have, to all,

Your angel will guarantee you will not fall.

Hope of Heaven

And as the waves softly brush the shore,

My hair spreads, carrying thoughts of before.

I dream of that day, far from now,

My pulse quickens at the hope of somehow.

Yet, each day pulls me farther apart.

That which I knew did depart.

My heart beats, pleading my core;

Please, Dear Destiny, bring it back once more.


Lost in the murky waters

of my mind,

Genetics and environment

can be so unkind.

I cleanse, I cleanse,

and cannot get clean.

It’s this inner pain that ails me,

it cannot be seen.

I inhale, inhale – there is

a deal that I made.

As with every exchange,

there is a price to be paid.

I pray and I pray

but this is my plight.

I must psych myself up –

one more day, one more fight


The fear tears through me, it burns, it shakes.

Why can't I see they were mistakes.

“Forgive me!”

I beg,

head pressed to the floor,


I do not know

what will open that door.


solace come, 

set my mind at ease.

I beg you, I plead,

down on my knees.

Others seem able

to fulfill their needs,

Oblivious to those

with mental disease.

Jesus, please cleanse me.

Lord, I ask you to forgive.

I need to be set free,

so my life I can live.

At Your Feet

I find my whole body alive,

With the willingness to survive.

I need to be lifted up,

To drink from His Cup.

As I look around the World,

Going out, hair curled.

I want the World to see,

I feel I can be me.

Some days, it holds me back,

Possibly due to something I lack.

But as the day rolls on and insight I gain,

It seems better feelings I can retain.

Please keep the negative thoughts at bay.

At Your feet I will continue to lay.


I am fearful of the look,

Received from a cranny, a nook.

Something staring out at me.

Preventing me from being free.

How can faces show up


Contorted and mournful,

a meaningful stare?

This cannot be

just my imagination,

Creating in my fear

constant regeneration.

Stop looking at me!

Or should I stop looking?

Heavens! I don’t know

what this brew is cooking!

Someone please

save me

from this place!

What I thought I could withstand

I can no longer face!

Please let there be

a way out of

this trap.

Please let this be

nothing but crap. 

Please let this be a

product of my illness!

Please someone help!

I cannot stand the stillness!

It feels like this World

was meant to

scare me.

How am I scared of

bricks, pictures, a tree?

How can I find

relief from this all?

When I cannot let go

of my fear of The Fall?


I keep wanting each poem to be the last one I write,

But the juices keep flowing, especially at night.

Sometimes it feels like it is not me writing,

Like someone else has control, first nibbles, then biting.

As I have said before, I am sincerely worried,

Yet now, it seems, the process is hurried.

I scare myself out of my wits,

My family then deals with anxiety fits.

What was that? What did you say? What does this mean?

I am slowly and surly coming apart at the seam.

However, that might not be bad, you know.

Because, I think, there are two of us to show.

At times I speak but did not initiate it,

Sometimes I write and my tongue should be bit.

Multiple personalities don’t exist they say.

Please test, I ask, she’ll come out that day.

She does not like me, of that I am sure.

She thinks she is worthy, perfect and pure.

I am the wrong one, the proverbial bad seed.

I am the one to blame for every bad deed.

Please extrapolate this competition inside,

Allow me to continue good works as I hide.

WAIT! Was that her, or, was that me?

Now, my confusion, I think you can see...

Is Recognition Enough?

I have owned up to what I have done wrong.

Blew the whistle on myself, sang the song.

He has heard me speak my apologies.

Begging forgiveness; to be set free.

I beat myself up, day in and day out.

Is there any way to eliminate my doubt?

I hate myself, I have to admit.

Reflections making me throw a fit.

I am truly, completely, utterly ashamed,

Of the things I have done, the people I've pained.

Sometimes, I see a tiny little light,

Once filled with hope, it disappears from sight.

Sometimes, I believe those around me.

Then something happens to contradict all they see.

Please, please, let my family be right.

Let this be an illness, not an eternal fight.


Bring people up.

Do not shut down.

You have the ability,

To turn this around.

You have a spark,

That I can see.

Seen in the dark,

Believe it can be. 

  • Update #3 - Progress Sept. 4, 2017

    Hi Everyone,

    Wanted to let you know that we are just a little bit behind from where we thought we would be today. We sincerely ...

  • Update #2 - With hope and thanks June 21, 2017

    Hi Everyone,

    Sending out sincere apologies for not updating earlier... thankfully the end of the school year is approaching.

    Publishizer has extended our campaign. We ...

  • Update #1 - Thank You April 9, 2017

    Hope Springs Eternal