THERE IS HOPE

My life right now is kind of crazy. Some days it is hard to feel inspired let alone write. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, COPD, Anxiety and a chronic back problem. My Mom died this February. My Sister was diagnosed with stage 3 Lung cancer two days after my Mom died. In March I was informed that my family would have to Move this summer. My Finical situation, well let’s say there isn’t a word clean enough to describe it. Every day is a struggle. Sometimes I struggle to write this blog.
I am not telling you this so you will feel sorry for me. I don’t feel sorry for me. Neither should you. In fact, I feel hopeful. So why am I telling you my personal problems? This by the way is really hard for me. I do it because I want you to know I am a real person behind the computer. I am flawed. I have problems. I have set backs. I am you! No better, no worse just real. There is No poem or story today just these three thoughts that I hope you remember:
Dreams are nothing more than a goal that has yet to be reached.
As long as you can dream you still have hope.
Reality is always subjective.

Thanks for stopping by and listing today
TS

                                   OUT OF THE DARK

 Many times I put pen to paper, in an effort to cope with your passing.

I tried to be brilliantly poetic and lyrical when I was writing about you.

I wanted all my love and sorrow to flow onto the page with beauty and artistic brilliance.

As a writer I felt that such great emotional anguish would certainly translate easily into verse.

What an absolutely arrogant thought for me to have.

I sat at my desk for hours on end.

Lost and broken no beauty or brilliance came.

I looked down and there was only empty pages stained with tears

What can come from a writer with no words or an artist that can’t create?

 Surly nothing worthwhile could ever come of it.

I sat in the dark alone and despondent listening to the deafening silence.

 Then like a whisper from heaven I heard a voice. A breeze came through the room, brushed my hand and whispered in my ear, Pick up your pen. Like the breeze itself was moving me, I grabbed my paper and started to write.

I wrote as if I was under a spell, never even looking at the paper.

 My fingers became numb as I wrote through the night.

Line after line and page after page, it had fluidity, passion, brilliance. It was more than I thought I was capable of.

I wrote about things I had never known I could write about. I kept on writing until I had nothing more in me.

I looked at what I had written and I realized I hadn’t written about you at all, though you were in every line. You were on every page.

 I didn’t write about my pain, though I am certain it was what pushed my pen across the page.

What a priceless gift I had been given, triumph through tears.

The ability to create some beautiful from such tremendous despair

 

 Just like in life I felt you cheering me on and believing in me, supporting me and being proud of me.

 I now can see that I can show my love and gratitude not by tearful poetry, but by making you proud. With my pen in hand you can remain with me always.

 You will be every hero I ever write about. All the beautiful women I describe will be you. Together   we will see the world and travel through time in the storied I have yet to write.

 I am only bound by my imagination and that is limitless. I can be all that you had hoped . I already am. In those thoughts I find solace.

 The loss that I feel is not as great as the love I carry with me forever. In that reality there is Brilliance, beauty and lyrical poetry.

Hope you all liked it

TS

Alive

I can feel it all over. It’s in every part of me. There is a longing a burning, so hot at times I feel like my skin is on fire.  I want it all. I always did. I pushed it down. I tucked me away deep away in the reassesses of my mind. I took all the best parts of me and emptied it out so that I could make room for Normal. What the hell is normal anyway? Time has passed and it has been building and building and it’s ready to erupt like a long dormant volcano. Burning and flowing from the top out of control. I don’t want to stop it. I want to just let it go. I want the release. I want the freedom. I want to let it all spill into the world to leave a mark. I do want it all, I want everything. I want to laugh and sing, spill my guts onto paper until my finger bleed. I want to be a great Mom. I want to give my kids the tools they need not only to survive but to flourish. I want, no I need to walk in the garden with my husband seeing every flower, ever blessing and be overwhelmed with love and peace. I want it all. I feel like stomping my feet like a spoiled child until I get my way. My eyes have been opened, my mind awakened to all of life’s beautiful possibilities. I want the world. I want to touch it, see it taste it take it all in until my body is bursting with light. I look now and I see every bird every budding flower every leaf on every tree as an expression of art and love and life. The wind and the rain now seem lovely instead of dreary. I do want it all, not money not fame just life. I want it full and rich and stimulating. Every single day is a gift and I want to open it like a child on Christmas. I want my cup to run over. I want to burn bright and hard. I want to be my own shooting star. To live for those I love and for me simultaneously. I want to feel what it’s like to try hard and fail and succeed. I have wasted so much time. I imagine what I have missed.  I have had a moment in which I felt the sun and I want more. I would love to feel the warmth from the glow of my own light if only for a moment a second.  I want to dream Big. I want my children to dream big. I want them to know what it’s like to live not just exist.

Ts