Grief sets in before it’s due.
Sadness fills the heart.
Hoping for a chance to soothe her,
For a chance to say goodbye.
Tomorrow and the next days will be hard.
I never would wish this on anyone,
Not even my worst enemy.
Grateful I don’t make the final decision.
Now is the time to be strong,
To hold hands, to dry others tears.
I don’t know what I’m doing…
Go lawyer up, greedy ones.
But you can’t even go see her?
You are fifteen effing minutes away.
What an awful way to be!
It’s an ugly thing
When family doesn’t get along.
I’ve stayed out of it, playing Switzerland,
As you all tore each other apart.
It was hard to stay out of it,
Easier because of the distance perhaps,
But Dad told me it was best.
Now I see Dad’s point of view;
I didn’t get it way back then.
I wanted kumbayah’s all around.
It breaks my heart, but not much I can do.
It makes me mad as hell,
I don’t understand why you all are this way.
Step back and breathe.
Relax your heart and mind.
Family always matters, and
you provided the best guidance you could.
Her life is precious, even at her age,
there wasn’t really a choice to be made.
Mother listened, aunt concurred.
Brother-in-law can go eff himself.
He’s not her man anyway!
Now, we wait,
one day, two days, maybe more.
Only time will tell, and
now it’s time for you to rest.
A light trickle of water cascades down,
The babble of the creek is soothing.
The reflection of pinks, yellow, and green,
Remind us that spring will soon be here.
The Ipe trees will be in full bloom,
Bringing joy and smiles to the neighborhood.
And the warming air will remind us,
This is the most beautiful time of the year.
Sweet little hearts flutter about like butterflies,
in beautiful shades of blush, pink, and red.
They float across the sky, taking on different shapes,
A flower, a heart, a tree gracefully bowing in the wind.
One heart stands out among the rest,
beating wildly when he enters view.
It breaks free from the troop flying in the sky,
and swiftly makes its way to him
as he stands mesmerized.
It floats around, tickling his ear,
grazing his shoulder and neck,
and drifting in front of his chest,
before it finally lands on the tip of his nose.
He chuckles to himself as he lifts his hand to it,
the heart dances onto his finger and around his hand,
until it settles into his palm finally finding rest.
He smiles because he knows it is hers.
Two souls, separated to live different lives.
Entwined and crossing through each other,
But they keep wandering in odd directions.
Twisting and turning, trying to make sense,
Make sense of it all, why don’t the pieces fit?
Crossing paths again, sometimes walking
Side by side or on parallel planes.
Life continues on, moving them through
The ups and downs and chaos of it all.
Looking for the missing piece, not knowing,
One day will they find it in each other?
My heart misses a little oil painting,
More likely a print, I know.
It hung outside our cabin suite
as we sailed the North Sea:
A Chinese girl, shaded by an awning,
Surrounded by her two cats,
Peaceful as the rain trickled down
In a courtyard in a far away land.
I have found similar compositions,
But they’re not quite right. See,
This depiction reminded me of me
Well, not exactly me,
but you know what I mean,
and my little fur beasts sitting at home.
Similar markings and all.
It would complement some decor I have,
Collected from Epcot, and from family
And friends who visited the East.
Hopefully one day I will find it again;
And this time, insist it be mine.
The cold settles in, chilling to the bone.
Finger tips blue and trembling,
Wanting nothing more than to feel
Red hot blood rushing through them
Once more. But the blood holds back.
Nails grow brittle, layers peel away.
Youthfulness fades away. Wrinkled skin
And pronounced joints appear.
Will the warmth of Spring return one day?
Pattern after pattern, ever changing, but also repeating
It’s amazing to watch the patterns unfold.
The standard routines, almost the same from day to day,
but slowly shifting into something untold.
Even the major upsets, the chaos, the disarray,
these start to become more routine.
The changes continue to play out,
but no longer do they feel unforeseen.
Is it we can’t help creating the patterns?
Or is it all preplanned and now our turns?
Motivation, come find me,
Lead me forward on a path,
Help me walk away from stress,
From overwork, and overthinking.
He inspired me to be a better me,
All those decades ago.
But then I did it for him.
Now guide me to do it for me.
Because that’s what I know I need.
Help me find my way back to me.
Not to look better, but to feel it.
Not to appear happier, but to be it.
Now I just need to do it!
Motivation, find me. One step at a time.
Dawn Renee Writes 