What does the future hold?
As the sun begins to set
I’m shedding my old skin
Like a snake in the grass
Slithering its tongue
What will this new life expose
Is there strength or giving up in pain
I can’t see what it looks like
Not seeing you again
The time is not here yet
We’ve shared these days so long
But I feel that rainbow bridge calling
Calling your name with sweet sorrow
Faith, love, and hope my friend
Seem like an impossible task
I won’t let you suffer
I’ll let you go at last
Wise words were spoken once so long ago
…
Introduction to ILLUMINATION’S-MIRROR
I’ve been writing since I was a young child. I wrote in spurts and was never consistent. Most of the time through my early 20s, it was when I was down, a relationship break up, or some sort of personal catastrophe.
I began writing again about a year ago at the urging of a friend Linda Aileen Miller. She helped me discover ILLUMINATION and ILLUMINATION-Curated and a great community of writers.
I have to say, I didn’t write in earnest until recently. I didn’t have the confidence or commitment to take responsibility for what I needed to…
DISSENT
Did you experience challenges in 2020 too
Is there something we can actually do
Such sanity reigned unchallenged
Seriously folks, I hope 2021 brings new possibilities
Even in the worst of the worst times
Nothing is beyond our reach — if we don’t give up and care enough
To get out and vote, use our collective voices, and make 2021 great
I was motivated by a one-sentence poem by Stuart Englander “2020 Has Finally Arrived — To the place where it belongs” and my hero, Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
How does it really feel?
Being touch starved — also known as skin hunger or touch deprivation — occurs when a person experiences little to no touch from other living things. (Wikipedia)
I live with a family that doesn’t touch much. My husband hugs and kisses me in the morning and at bedtime. I can hug my 14-year old daughter and kiss the top of her head at bedtime. My 15-year-old son outgrew bedtime hugs a year or so ago.
I don’t remember a lot of touch growing up. Not a lot of hugs or comfort from my mom. We…
14 July 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: the Other perspective
“what matters most is how well you walk through the fire”
― Charles Bukowski
Why is it here? Sneaking in with no notice. Assaulting your senses. No apparent escape. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
You’re just sitting there watching the world go round and round, said a famous sage and philosopher, also known as John Lennon.
His wisdom is missed. Are all the great ones gone? Are we entering new phase? Do you know the one it means?
No mistaking age. It sneaks up with no notice. No mistaking the maladies that come with it. …
Baby’s going to rehab.
The surgery was pronounced a success. I was released from the hospital. Sirens blaring, they took me by ambulance to rehab. If it was such a success, why was I screaming in pain?
I’d heard about rehab! Lousy food, mean nurses. The first night I was non-compliant. Truth be told, I called the police. I told them I was being held hostage. The police and rehab facility patched my sister into the phone call.
It felt so real. My sister convinced me it wasn’t. I was exhausted, in pain, and had experienced several traumatic events. The police exited the scene. My sister spoke with the Director of Nursing, and compromises were made. Rehab promised to answer my call button in a reasonable time. I promised not to call the police again. So began my recovery from major back surgery. Stay tuned.
June 30, 2021 Prose Poem: pretend you’re mad
Sweet, sultry, smooth sound. Playing late into the night. I hear traces of it even as I sleep. It’s a mystery to me. How does such an odd instrument make such a beautiful sound?
It reminds me of when I was young. I can name that tune in two notes. It’s all so familiar as I fall into dreamland. Where did the time go? How did I get here? It all seems so long ago. Why did it unfold so quickly?
Some days, I look back at memories. They taste so sweet. Some days, I look back and remember the…
A Fairy Tale of Trauma
She was nine years old when I met her. Her mother had committed suicide three months earlier. Six months later, her father had a massive heart attack and stroke. Four years later, I’m stepmother. It’s been a rough transition.
As a mental health professional, I’ve taken numerous trainings on the impact of trauma on young children. Nothing prepared me for what I was about to face.
Trainings, seminars, certifications on the impact of childhood trauma are widespread. Trauma-informed care, a state-of-the-art evidence-based system of care, is proven to help children and adults heal from trauma…
Nerve pain does not let up without help!
Tears are falling
Pain is crawling
Up inside me fast
How long I can last
My nerves are screaming
Calling out my name
Feed me, help me, redeem
Me, afore I go insane
Been breathing, walking,
Doing what I told, talking
I can’t get out of this trap
On Monday doctor coming back
Save me, help me, tell me what to do
I feel beyond repair; call who
I never thought it could get this bad
What you told me, maybe for another lad
Lightening howls through my body
Sounds like Prince screaming his songs
Doesn’t sound like a guitar gently weeping
The…
Day 2 poetry prompt
Poetry is my lifeblood
Wakes me up from a deep sleep
Feeds me with words to keep
Challenges me down deep
Sometimes ignoring what’s best
Trying to deal with all the rest
It slips from my fingers with ease
And I live in darkness, like a disease
Then it comes late at night with a tap
A whisper, I know it’s not a trap
Time to get back to it, my friend
I haven’t deserted you in the end
And the words come back; they flow
I don't know they went, don’t ya know
And I write, and I write, and I…
janny’s heart
Learning to be a strong and prolific writer! Editor - ILLUMINATION, ILLUMINATION-MIRROR and SYNERGY. Feels like home!
