Voice of Pain

I pay attention to
The screamers
The loud
Demanding-to-be-heard
People
With tears in their eyes.

I handle my pain differently
More quiet
Introspective.

All in all, dear one
Pain is pain
Hearts
Crying
And it's always a shame.

Disbanded Sisterhood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One would think

We'd stick together

Raise each other up

During the highs & lows

But that is not always the case

Only a very few

Hold the sisterhood

To heart.

 

The others

Can be so

Criticizing

Looking for blame

In the heart of

Sweet laughter

Esteem so low

No sense of self.



Tango of Thought

I'm not a man-hater
But I do find myself
Cringing under the
Thoughtful
Male
Glance

Defensive
Pensive
Drawing into myself
Internally backing away
Not out of fear
More of a guarded thing

When the glance
Becomes more
I dance a
Tango
Circling around
Quietly musing
Asking the question
What could this
Possibly be?

Heaven in Room 521

He held him 10 minutes
The day our son was born
Then left like a vanishing wind.

4 blessed days
3 blessed nights
Alone with my
Precious one
World outside quieted
World inside slowed
Infant son & mother
Alone
In our snow globe.

Delicious, renewing sleep
Watched as nurses
Pampered & fluffed
Listened & watched
In awe
To his breathing
Peaceful sleeping
Inquisitive new eyes seeking.

I had no idea when
The storm would begin
Surely, I knew it would arrive
Sooner
Rather than later
But for those precious days
I was in a peaceful haze
In a hospital with my new son
Heaven
In room 521.

Choices

I learned the
Fine art of
Silence
Probably at an early
Young age
Criticizing tones
Harsh voices
I lived in a
House of love
I just didn't always
Agree with their
Choices.

Night Terrors

During the day
I could pretend
Paint on a smile

It was the night
The dark, deep night
That gripped me
Ripped me

I would fall asleep
Soon it would happen
Night terrors

Running
Caught in places
I should never be
Hearing razor-sharp voices
Taunting me

Days and nights
Quickly becoming a blur
Begging for rest
Blessed sleep
Peace from  the
Nightmare that
Was always
2 steps
Behind me.

Preparing to Fly

In the middle of
The worst part
Of the harshest storm
Pregnant
Motherly instinct
Evident
My voice remained calm
For even in the womb
He could hear me
I'd steal away
To the quietest
Of places
Talk to him real slow

"Mommy's going  to
make  everything all right.
Right now, my sweet,
sleep tight."

His kicks inside me
Would gently slow
I felt him relax
As I hummed a lullaby
Soft
And low.