reclaiming safety

I had a safe space.
I invited people in.
I realized
my decision was premature
too late.

My safe space dissolved
into an empty void
for months,
tainted by the destruction
I had invited in,
in naivete.

A piece of me broke away.

Remembering
if I made it once
I can make it again
and this time,
add an extra padlock on the door.

No one expects an invitation
so I disregard any felt obligation
to extend one.

Reclaiming safety
for my soul.

emotional storm

Riding the waves of emotional lability
makes my soul weary.
How many hours of turbulence
must I endure
before the storm passes?
Fighting against the waves
brings more exhaustion than acquiescing
but even still,
I collapse, depleted of energy, at 10 AM.

I submit to the emotional storm,
praying,
I retain enough strength to stand again
when it clears.

movie opportunity

After we lose connection
we almost always have the opportunity
to reconnect.
The movies sell us this idea
with dramatic music and obvious build-up
to the main event,
where broken hearts are whole once more.

Life is not like the movies.
We do not hear background music or see dramatic irony
to know when we are on the path
to re-connection.
In times like these,
maybe what we need to listen for
are the silent streets
and seldom-heard sounds within our own homes
to build the movie suspense.
We, right now,
have an opportunity to reconnect with the selves
we have lost in the midst of the non-stop,
chaotic lives that came to a halt,
because of another organism
who finally got its turn in the spotlight.

We can reconnect with ourselves,
the souls we call our own
and the souls of those near and dear.
Before we live in regret
we can repair those broken links
and make our hearts whole, and healed,
again.

This is the opportunity
to take over the script, and dialogue, of our movie.

Will you pick up a pen?

Four years ago

Four years ago you left us
to find a brand new home,
among the sunshine, cloud and blue;
time to venture out on your own.

Four years ago you left us
I remember it like yesterday,
away from home, I got the call
that you had passed away.

Four years ago you left us
I remember our last hug,
your strong arms and deep voice both still there
that today, still run through my blood.

Four years ago you left us
on all of us, it’s been hard.
You live on and strong, now and forever;
in peppermints, baseball or a playing card.

Four years ago you left us
I still wish it wasn’t so.
But I dream of seeing you again someday
and into your arms I will go.