Free

Free

April 8th.

At long last,
I can breathe.
Fill my lungs
with hope
with exuberance
with fresh optimism
Enough of
the incessant reminders
No more
of her suffocating grief
I exhale
only contentment
Breathe only
a sigh of relief

At long last,
I can think.
Open my mind
for creativity
for revelation
for honest expression
Free from
the condescending paralysis
Away from
her sickening superiority
I speak volumes
only for myself
Think clearly
as sole authority

A long last,
I can look.
Cast my glance
to tomorrow
to possibilities

to cloudless horizons
See beyond
the judgemental glare
See past
her irrational ways
I focus
only to the future
Look forward
to my everydays


At long last,

I can breathe.

At long last,
I can think.

At long last,
I see.

At long last…
just be


 

 

Advertisements

Today

                    Today

Do we celebrate birthdays
of those we’ve lost?

Of course we do.
For the same reason
that we celebrate life.

Today, we celebrate you.

A birthday marks
the pass of time.

Time is how we heal.
It gets a little easier
but our hearts still ache.

Today, that’s how we feel.

There will be no gifts
or candles on a cake.

No singing out your name.
Just memories, reminders,
and stories told.

Pictures, that have found a frame.

A bond of enduring love
in the lives you’ve touched.

Many yes, but far too few.
Yet, strength is found
in love, and numbers.

And today, we celebrate you.
 
So, Happy Birthday
my friend.

We all miss
your smiling face.

On this day,
in so many ways

No one else
can take your place.

Here’s to ya.

Retreat

               Retreat  IMG_0575

I escape to my own space
to be alone with my despair
Four walls and my thoughts
keep me company there…
A curtain shields the light
I sit, I think, I stare.

A place where I can hide
until sense is restored
Until understanding surfaces
all else can be ignored.

Until I regain some strength
Until my nature takes its course
All else will be ignored
while I find my creative force.

I retreat to my own space
to make sense of my despair
Four walls and my emotions
keep me company there…
My mind fills the page
I sit, I feel, I repair.

Time need not heal me
I have to feel like this 
I want my sorrow to affect me
this, is just how it is.

I have to experience this suffering
I want this productive pain
This, is just how it is
From loss, to mindful gain.

I choose to heal in my own space
to gain release from my despair
Four walls and my words
keep me company there…
Shedding light on my recovery
I sit, I write, I share.

Grasp

Grasp

 

The shadow of sadness seems ominous
Over a life that is ebbing away
Helpless, no matter what I do
Insufficient, no matter what I say

When it’s quiet and the door closes
And my words have been left behind
All that I take with me is my loneliness
It’s as if life has robbed me blind

With only self-reflection and memories
I fill this void, so that I may see
With tears for now and never forgetting
I feel this grief washing over me.

Time takes its exacting toll
As I struggle to understand
I reach out to touch the inevitable
While you hold my other hand.


Allow vulnerability to concede control

It’s this inner turmoil that is very real
Recognize and accept it for what it is
I must suffer, so that I can heal

This harsh reality is a necessary agony
Let it do its work and don’t resist
Must not repress, deny or bury my despair
I must yield to it, while we co-exist

My hopes are confronted by my despair
And sorrow that could go to any length
The future is my next opponent
Your support is my source of strength.

Time devises its own agenda

Life seldom goes as planned
I reach out to grasp for yesterday
While you hold my other hand.

 

There’s a process to repair these lacerations
It takes time for wounds to mend
You held my hand at the bitter beginning
 I felt your presence to the better end

A soothing touch on my aching flesh
You hold the pulse of all I am feeling
With the sensation of your hand on mine
One hurting… and the other healing

Scars will show when I have healed
Jagged confirmation of how and when
Reminders of the cruel cuts of life
Yet signs that I am whole again.

 I feel the grip of your reassurance
Rising from my grief, I am able to stand
I can let go, and motivate my mourning
While you hold my other hand.

%d bloggers like this: