Halfway Through

Forty-eight inches,

a decade of growth,

curled into fetal comfort,

seeks the safety

of mother’s womb.

 

Smooth tender scalp

rests on her shoulder,

arms encircle her neck.

Cuddle toys can’t

fill his need

for security.

 

Radiation’s brand marks

the tomb of the enemy,

robber of joy, peace and play.

Plastic tubes pump

poison into his chest.

 

Dad is big and strong,

Mom, warm and wise,

but sarcoma sucks;

that’s just the way it is.

Dreams of Mourning

Tears dry on my pillow,
disappearing like the days.
Calendar pages bandage wounds,
but clock hands fail to heal.
I tumble through my memories
hunting for your face, your voice;
always around the corner,
never reached in time.

Sleep is my tormentor; her
shadows play hide-n-seek,
her whispers not quite heard.

She mocks my broken heart,
yet hope remains.

I will find you waiting–

between my dreams and wake.

 

Published in: on November 17, 2014 at 9:04 am  Comments (2)  
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From Walls to Curtains

Those walls of yours so thick, so high
Built slowly through the years.

They block you in and block me out
Protecting you from all you fear.

Who were the builders of those walls of yours,
made of pain and loss?

The stories some have been told to me
In times of simple sharing.

You were given to me many years ago
Handed to me for loving.

Patient and gentle I have been,
waiting and ever watching.

Fresh wounds are now upon your heart
Still tender to the touch.

I shared the pain and walked with you
As your heart was breaking.

Dear friend, as now you are known
Loved by much and many.

Tear down those walls that hide you there,
Replace them with a curtain.

Pull back the veil, let healing in
The balm of One so sweet.

His gentle touch has been in my hand
His love, that fills my heart.

Published in: on April 26, 2009 at 10:09 pm  Leave a Comment  
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