Honesty

How honest are you in your day to day life?
Do you paint a smile on or do you share your strife?
What do you think of those that are willing to share?
Really, most just want someone to relate or care.

Do you take the time to listen to a friend in need?
Would you stop to help their soul when it bleeds?
When you tell someone you care, is it for that moment?
Or do you take their problems with you and for them lament?

Perhaps that's why I can only handle so many friends at a time.
I take their issues with me and almost turn them into mine.
I have faith that my friends feel the same, but that faith is fading.
Marshall's been gone for less than three months, but by my side, few are waiting.

Maybe I need to stop caring and become heartless and myred in my own gruel.
But that would make me like them, and I am not that cruel.
So, I'll continue to write and take my angst out in words
become sometimes I just don't understand the people in this world.

Summer

This has been the hardest to write ... a poem about my Summer.
She's my first born daughter and there can be no doubt I love her.
Her story is only 8 years long now but already it's fuller than most.
She's beautiful inside and out and we really don't mind it...we'll boast!!

I remember the day we found out she was coming into this world.
The tech said "She's all girl" and I looked at Joe and he almost hurled!!
It's a girl! Daddy's little girl! She was coming in September!
This was really going to be a day that everyone would remember!
(She was due on Labor Day...'nuff said).

Her birth was average...15 hours of relaxing and then pushing.
But when she was born the doctors and nurses lookes oh, so white and ashen.
She was rushed to NICU where she stayed until she was diagnosed.
Her heart was broken..it'd need repairs...her holes would have to be closed.

December 12, 1999. Imagine if you will...a family of three gathered together
and saying goodbye to each other.
Joe and I held our baby and cried until we were sick...
tomorrow she'd go in for her surgery and we hoped her heart would still tick.
(Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" was our song and to her we sang.
We told her it was ok to let go. We would be the ones to hang on).

She made it through open heart surgery and for days she would lie
we were afraid to hurt her more; the tubes made it hard for her to cry.
Alone in that room with machines beeping, I looked at my dearest one.
And I promised her the moon and the stars if she would just hang on.

Flash forward a few years: This baby had grown up and she was Grammy's little pal!
Grammy took her everywhere and Mom knew she was quite a gal.
To this day there's something about her that reminds me of my Mother.
She can only be compared to her; to me there are none other.

Summer's 8 years old now and she's a pretty young lady...
hair of gold and legs that go on forever...but she'll always be my baby.
She's mostly a great big sister and a pretty good daughter;
I wonder what life holds for here on after?

Where's the Joy?

Why is it that my poems have a darker tone?
It's not like I am miserable and feel always all alone!
Why can't I write about things that make me smile?
I know my life's not always so vile.

The truth is that right now I just can't see
that life isn't always the way it seems to be.
One day the sun will shine again!
It does everytime Reagan gives a grin.

I have to hold on to moments like those
because I just can't see past the end of my nose.
When I'm alone with a pen and paper all else fades
and the pain I finally evade.

Consequences of Grief

Things have changed since that day Mom left
and I am waiting for the wave of change to crest.
Just when I think we've reached the top
the undertow pulls and again...it just won't stop.

I used to be his little girl -- the one with freckles and all the curls.
Now he looks at me with disgust; his lips in a permanent snarl.
It's not just me; others see it too. It doesn't matter what I do.
I work full time, care for three kids, and mourn the fourth...my life is a zoo.

Mom used to be the buffer and back him off of me
but now she's not here and his wrath is directed at me.
It really hurts at times and I feel the ultimate rejection;
let's face it...I just don't have a familial connection.

My sisters tried to TELL me what and how to feel those days
like I didn't know Mom better than they did..I was there in ALL ways.
So that didn't help; then they rejected my little boy
and now they want to make merry and pretend to have family joy?

You just can't understand until this happens to you.
Look in the mirror and realize no blood loves you.
You question your looks, your actions, your speech
and then realize these aren't lessons you want to teach.

So, I have to rebuild and become someone new.
Heather has died; I just don't know what to do.
I'm tired of feeling sad.

Grief

Quietly
quickly
consuming
rising
agonizing
monopolizing
My soul retreats.

God's Hand Touches
Friends Respond
Dreams Come...
then

My soul emerges.
Rationalizing
forgiving
inspiring
desiring

A sudden trigger:
pregnant belly
mother/daughter
baby boy clothes
his urn calls
and it begins again.

Ditto

It started off as a joke after our first real date,
and here it is 16 years later and it can STILL aggravate.
The word "Ditto" is a cop out that turned into something else...
in fact it means something much more intense.

It knocks the breath from my chest when I hear your voice
and then you say the one word that makes all else turn to noise.
It doesn't mean I luv you or even that you're liked.
It means that our feelings will last throughout our entire life.

Ummm...I have no title for this one

My emotions define me; I wear them on my sleeve.
And sometimes they cause wonderful people to leave.
But that's ok because it's who I am
and in the end I am part of God's Master Plan.