A prayer for the sick

I gaze up at the stars above,

Wishing they could see me through.

Their light could guide me to brighter days,

And melt the darkness of night away.

I’ve heard the fateful words again,

Too much, too soon, too often.

First in a friend whose paid his price,

He fought this battle, now fights it twice.

Then perhaps again in my father.

I’m not sure I can handle another.

This ugly beast, this awful disease

I wish we could erase, oh please.

Lord, I’ve spent so many days trying to understand.

I’ve raised money, I’ve walked, I’ve cried, I’ve held others’ hands.

I’ve prayed in every Church and every corner,

I’ve spent nights in tears or completely dried out.

It never seems to stop touching those I love.

Even I’ve had the words thrown out at me.

Cancer is an evil entity,

And yet it never really dies.

It haunts the worlds of those who’ve known it.

It lurks in the shadows waiting to attack.

It’s beastly in abounding ways.

I keep trying to fight back.

The world has many a great things,

wondrous oceans, jungles, forests.

There are precious children,

Innocent young minds to mold.

Lives to live, love to be had.

but this evil still finds a hold.

It’s true it can make you stronger.

I’ve seen that many times.

But it’s a never-ending battle

Even if the cancer isn’t mine.

Lord tonight I pray,

for all who suffer and for all who’ve hurt

from this dreadful disease.

Lord, take them in your heart and hands,

keep them near and make them whole.

Fill them with love, happiness, and never let go.




“So Ya Had A Bad Day. . . “

Ever feel like you are on the Titanic, reaching desperately for the life boat as it floats away? I think I put too much of myself into work because it is my legacy since I have no husband, no children.  I’m forced to remember how much more important those things are to me.  I try to push that part of me down, aside, whatever.  I focus on work.  I work my butt off.  I put my everything into every aspect of what I do.  It’s who I am and it’s a pale piece of what I wanted to be.  I’m my loneliest when I’m reminded that work is but a job and doesn’t bring me happiness.  I’m my loneliest when work turns on me whether by beating me down with countless thankless hours, additional work as my only reward, or as in today the knowledge that when the ship shinks I will be the captain who never had an anchor, never had the wheel, and never had any fuel.

And as the theme lurks in the back of my mind, all about how one’s heart will go on, it’s abundantly clear to me my heart was broken long ago and the damage never repaired.  I invested myself in my work but was assigned something that could never succeed.  I knew it from day one.  I said it from day one.  I proved it repeatedly.  I used all the right tools to show them the failings, to show them where the path went astray.  In the end the tools don’t matter.  The path doesn’t matter.  All that matters is the end result.  Sad isn’t it?

We teach children that the journey is supposed to matter.  Heck, it should be more important than the end result.  After all, the end does not always justify the means.  All that jazz.  But as adults I’m not convinced everyone believes these teachings.  The world we live in is a bitter angry place and it is every man for himself.

I’m a strong person and when I’m not I act the part.  That actually is probably my biggest weakness here.  People think I’ll be ok.  People think I can take it.  People beat me down mentally, emotionally, publically, because I’m the one person that it won’t touch.  I’m not phased by these things.  I’m strong after all.  It’s ironic that the world falls for such tricks.  That a simple look or a staunch mindset meant to protect us from all the things that broke and beat us before wind up being the things that break us now.

I’m truly at a loss tonight.  I’m saddened by the words ringing in my head from today.  I’m saddened by the evils of this cold dark world.  But I’m most saddened by the reminder that when my time comes, all I’ll have to show for it is a job not always appreciated, not well remembered, and all in all just a job.

And even when I got my rewards or certificates, or some kind of mention of appreciation, I would come home and want desperately to show it to someone.  Tonight I wanted the comfort of knowing that when it all implodes I won’t be alone.  I wanted the comfort of knowing that all my hard work means something, but the truth is it is nothing.  It means nothing.

When I’m old and gray and looking back on life, I’ll be wishing I traveled more.  I want to go to Spain, Italy, speak Spanish again.  I want to be amazed by something not man-made.  I want to be loved.  I want to feel love.  I want to give back said love.  And not because someone tricked me or because it’s supposed to be or because …..I don’t know.

I’ve pretty much failed miserably at the online attempt of recent times.  I gave up after a few short weeks.  It’s just not me.  It feels so forced.  Love shouldn’t be so hard, at least not in the beginning.  Maybe I only know what the movies say, but I want to have that connection with someone.  I don’t care if they aren’t perfect.  I don’t care if they are overweight, heck I’d feel a little less pressure myself maybe.  I don’t care if they have flaws.  Flaws can be beautiful.

When I love someone I give 150% of myself and that is my flaw.  I set myself up to be the one who loves more.  You never want to be the one who loves more.  See they are the one that is left behind.  I never smothered, heck I like my alone time.  I like to think I give plenty of space in a relationship.  Maybe I give too much, so it’s easy to walk away.  I’ve wondered sometimes if I just maybe did some horrible wrong in another life and this God awful loneliness that never quite goes away is my punishment.  Is it so wrong at the end of a horrible day, to just want someone by your side?

If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I disappoint myself.  I need to return to the one thing that heals my soul – my writing.  I’ve been away for a while.  And if my legacy can’t be a great love, or children, or family, or the mark of a wonderful career, or any of those things, maybe just maybe it can be the message I send with my words.  I want to write a book.  I need to work on my poetry collection.  And so I resolve to make it my mission to return to my only true salvation, my writing, my poetry.  I will write the number of poems I need.  Hopefully, some of my followers might even wish to buy my book one day.  But even if the book never sees print and even if the poems reside only here or on paper in a pile somewhere, at least when my time comes, I will leave something behind worth seeing.  I will leave something behind with great meaning.  I will leave a part of me no one quite got to know.  I will leave the most intimate part of my soul.  And I will be proud to have let that piece shine when nothing else could.



The Christmas Lights

The lights on the tree blink faster and furious.

They are the only lights in the house.

I lay on the couch with the blanket over me, warm.

I stare at the tree in complete and utter silence.

Blink, blink, blink, fade, blink, chase, blink, fade.

I try to turn off my mind, escape my own thoughts.

The lights, the tree, are peaceful.

I slowly look over all the ornaments that tell the story of my past.

The handmade ones of my grandmother,

The crocheted ones from Church,

The angel that has always been my favorite –

Blue, my favorite color, and watching over me.

With a magic wand in her hand as if she could make all right.

There’s a santa for those that want to believe.

There are bears and snowmen for the child in all of us.

There’s whimsy and fun adorning the tree.

There’s silver shining garland lighting up my night.

I remember when you put a tree together one branch at a time.

I remember buying my very first Christmas tree.

I hung ornaments even from my ceiling.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year,

but as I grew older it’s been a challenge to remember why.

I watch the children open their gifts with glee,

but the day ends as quickly as it came.

Everything you look forward to for months at a time,

suddenly vanished in a heartbeat.

I look over at my father, who has suffered so these last few years.

I see the pain through the half-hearted smile.

I stare up at the angel sitting gently on the top.

I close my eyes and wish again the same wish every time.

Surrounded by loved ones, but none of them really mine.

The world has blest me with so much, yet left me with such holes.

And the toughest of times seem to have come during my most prized holiday.

Breakups and loss, moves and separations.

Family strife and heartache that never quite heals.

Angry words I can’t forget.

Unfeeling letters of deep hatred.

And a death of a dear friend.

These have become some of my holiday memories.

I struggle to push them down and remember the good.

I love the lights, I love the tree.

I love the holiday, the meaning, the smiles on children’s faces.

I love the hope, the anticipation.

But I’ve lost the ability to believe that any of that good could be for me.

I’ve lost the belief that somewhere in it all there’s room to give a gift to me.

I’m so thankful for the people around me, their lives, literally.

I don’t feel I have a right to ask for more.

I hear others say they are depressed at the holiday.

And I get angry because they have it all.

And all I want is to not feel for a while, to let the tree take my pain.

Let the tree light my heart, be my smile, be my everything.

And some nights it works.  The tree can make me whole.

It may be just an oversized decoration,

but it is the one thing from the holiday that isn’t broken.

It is the one memory that isn’t darkened.

It is the one piece that can always bring a smile.

I don’t know why, but the tree is my salvation.

She holds good memories, not bad.

She holds a peace I can’t find much in this world.

She lights a part of me, that desperately needs to see.

And for a short while, the tree completes me.

But my holiday is far from the Christmas’ I once dreamed up.

The hot cocoa and the warm holiday movies,

the holiday carols playing on the stereo.

With not a care in my heart, not a pain in anyone’s eyes.

I long for the innocence that the holiday used to provide.

I long to be the little girl on Christmas morning,

whose only care was what was waiting.

The little girl who sat on Santa’s lap and made a wish

and who knew one day it would come true.

But that little girl is not so little anymore

and the wish never did come true.

But on Christmas Eve in a Church of hundreds,

I sing the songs with faith and love true.

I believe in hope, faith, and all that is good.

I turn off the tree to go to bed and the lights still blink in my closed eyes.

I go to sleep one last night, with the lights shining my heart.

They give me hope I can’t explain.

I just wish it could last.


What Might Have Been – another oldie

Another old one, a little rough, could use some tweaking, but here we go…. 

In another place, another time, we would have met before.
This connection I’m feeling wouldn’t need to be ignored.
We could have laughed and enjoyed each other,
the endless possibilities could have been explored.

Instead fate shines a bitter light on what might have been.
It gives me a window into what I’ve always wanted,
Makes me laugh, smile, and feel only to pull it away again.
Fate is playing at my expense.

I am desperate to ignore what my heart is feeling.
My body is alive with desire.
I have to push it down, ignore the flames.
Fate is playing such an ugly game.

If only I could have known those years ago what might have been.
I would have suffered willingly any pain if we could be together then.
I guess it’s all just cruel twists and turns,
and I must forget how deep this passion burns.

I’ll keep these thoughts to myself,
for this could all be one-sided.
I’ll extinguish the embers of these dreams
and continue to wish for bigger things.

I will close tight my eyes,
be blind to this fire inside,
ignore these thoughts and feelings too,
for what might have been, can’t be with you.

Mother Ocean

It’s cold outside, much colder than I expected.
I’m shivering in the breeze, lying here on the sand.
I am staring at the lighthouse in the distance,
Hoping to turn off my mind for awhile.

My heart is aching from trying so hard lately.
I keep waiting to hear the fog horn,
in between my thoughts it should be booming,
but it’s calm and quiet for some reason.

The red flags are hanging from the lifeguard towers.
The clouds are floating in over the ocean,
The storm is coming tonight and the red light flashes weakly in the distance.
The light should be so much brighter than it seems.

I keep thinking if I focus on the storm for just a few minutes,
the storm brewing inside me might die down.
I’m frustrated and angry at life, at dating, myself.
Maybe I just waited too long to try again.

The waves are crashing harder than I’ve ever seen them.
It seems almost poetic, like they are playing out what’s rumbling in my head.
The shore is rockier than I remember.
Walking along the stones pierce my feet.

I close my eyes and stand still, let the wind whip through my hair.
I wish it could carry away my fears, my pain, my loneliness.
This is my safe place. This is my oasis.
The ocean is the one place I feel peace.

It lets me breathe, when I don’t seem to remember how.
I wish I could drive and drive until the water is at my feet every week.
Maybe then I’d find a way to accept what life has in store,
And what life seems to have forgotten for me.

I hate the thought of leaving, because it means I go back to reality.
For a short while, the ocean, she is my home, my blanket, my safety net.
She keeps me comfortable; she hears my thoughts; she makes it ok.
She calms me; she makes me smile; she wraps herself around me like a mother to a child in need.

I smell the seaweed, it’s stronger tonight than it’s been.
I take a deep deep breath, hoping to erase all other thoughts.
I’m lonely, wishing I was walking with someone special,
wishing we were holding hands watching the waves.

The saying is that we will find our soul mate when we least expect it,
when we stop searching for them.
But I stopped searching long long ago, I stopped living for me.
I lived for those I cared for and I put myself in a bubble.

I think perhaps I missed my chance.
Maybe I made choices that played with fate.
And maybe now life is what it is.
But I was ok with that before, until recently.

Something changed in me, gave way like the edge of a cliff with the pouncing of a storm upon it.
Something deep inside me has crawled back up to my surface and is begging me to let her out.
This part of me that believes in love and in hope and in dreams
she still believes in the fairy tail and she is beating on my door.

The waves are getting close to the shore line; the tide is rolling in.
It will be high tide very quickly now and I’m running out of sand.
The ocean tells quite the story, one very similar to my own.
She is often beaten and broken, but she is stronger each time.

To look at her from the outside, she’s just an overwhelming creature.
She might be hard to read if you don’t know where to look.
But if you watch how the waves caress the shoreline, if you pay close attention to her rhythm,
She isn’t so hard to understand after all.

I take one last glance out to sea.
I dig my feet into the sand as if to leave a mark.
I hate the thought of saying goodbye,
For the ocean is the best of friends and I can’t wait to see her again.

As for my heart, she is still broken and tired.
But for tonight, she’s going to let it all go,
And take in the night air, the salty ocean breeze,
And hope it cleanses her soul like only the ocean can.

Maybe I’m just having a fat day?

I remember when I was younger looking in the mirror at my pale skin and my long legs, my glasses,  my awkward stance.  I felt out of place I guess.  I’ve had moments in my life where I’ve looked in the mirror and I thought, “what a great hair day!” or “I feel really good today.” or “Wow, I look pretty.” But then there’s other days, you ate too much or you wore the wrong top and you feel fat, you look wrong, heavy, uncomfortable.  That day you hate your body.

Women, we have this love hate relationship with ourselves, our bodies.  Everyone wants to blame standards and society, but maybe it’s just how we are.

I’ve never been fat, but I’ve rarely been or felt thin.  I lost 25 pounds on a well known diet system now some ten years ago.  Before that I lived at the gym, 2 to 3 hours a day, so any weight I lost was probably muscle.  I looked good before and I looked thin after.  Did I ever really love my body? I had my days.

After four years of never having a brownie or a hamburger out, I started to crack.  With the diet that will remain nameless, when maintenance goes wrong, it goes terribly wrong.  I lived on a system which was the same as my original target for losing.  What that means is I never ate more than the minimum amount of calories and fat a day that were suggested for losing weight, even after I was not losing anymore.  In essence, I didn’t eat much other than veggies and well veggies for 4 years.  It worked because I ate a lot of equal and splenda and all those things that later created a world of medical problems for me.  Eventually, I realized I couldn’t eat the diet sugars anymore and I started craving all the foods I’d been missing for years.  Once I gave into one craving suddenly I realized I was a very hungry girl who was missing out on a lot of simple food pleasures.  I was never more devoted than during those 4 years, ask anyone that knows me.  I lived by the system. I knew the system better than anyone.  I lived, ate, and breathed the system.  I was working the system, till I wasn’t.

So about two or three years after that, when the original 20 – 25 pounds I had lost returned, I decided I needed to try another diet.  This time I wanted something that required no thought, just exercise, and good food.  Because I now had a world of medical issues, a  high sodium diet was not recommended, nor was a high protein diet.  So after much consideration I chose another diet, we’ll call it diet system B, with premade food, low sodium and no fake sugars.  I lost 25 pounds.

Then I noticed the food labels changed, the fake sugars creeping into the ingredients.  I couldn’t eat these.  Wasted money, wasted food.  My list of foods I could eat while sticking to the diet started to dwindle.

In no way relating to the diets, I did have another medical issue creep in.  I was diagnosed with a complex mass in my abdomen, my ovary they thought.  Turned out to be benign and on the outside of my uterus – thankfully.  I had some reactions to the surgery and some complications with my throat from the breathing tube.  As a result, I lived on a cold liquid diet for 2 weeks.  When I could finally eat again, sorry but diet food wasn’t cutting it.  I needed more than four bites to feel satisfied at that point.  And so it went…

Both diets are good systems, this is not meant to hurt their profits or their following in any way.  Unfortunately for me, in the end, neither diet was a life changing fix.  Now here I am, up again, back at the starting weight – for a now 10 – 12 year period having gained, lost, gained, lost, and gained roughly 20 – 25 pounds isn’t that horrible….I’m 10 years older and at the same weight I was back then. Problem is, I’m not the same size.  Every time I’ve gained and lost the weight returns in a new unusual fashion.  I wonder if men have this problem.  I think it’s God’s little joke on us – we try to improve our bodies and maybe it’s His way of saying we are messing with something we should not mess with.  I wasn’t overweight, I wasn’t obese, I’m not now.  Yet, I still desperately want to feel thin, want to lose that weight, want to wear that bikini again (which I think in my 35 years I’ve maybe worn a grand total of 4 times).  Only now, I feel less and less able to wear said bikini.

Maybe I’m just having a fat day.  See women, we have those.  It’s those days where we ate too much salt, didn’t drink enough water, and the scale balloons up about 3 – 5 pounds literally overnight.  In a day or two, with some care and a few prayers, the scale adjusts itself, usually.  So those days are fat days.  But I’m going to a friend’s wedding in a few days and I’m having one of those days.

To make matters worse, I’m a single female.  I never want to feel as though I keep a man simply with my looks, but we all want to attract one with them.  Every guy friend I’ve ever had says confidence is what attracts a man.  I agree, it’s true.  However, it’s so hard to stay confident, and I’m a confident person, but it’s so hard to stay confident when you are having a fat day.

Why am I telling you, these random strangers, some of them perhaps single attractive men, if they are still reading…..why am I telling you this? I’m not sure.  It’s after midnight, I should be sleeping.  I was unwinding watching a tv show and an overweight woman was giving back an engagement ring.  I found myself with tears.  Was I crying at the great acting or was I crying because I related on some level?

All I have ever wanted was to love and be loved.  And some days I feel great, confident, secure, pretty, attractive, you get the idea.  Other days, I feel none of that.  I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that, heck I’m probably in great company.  But if I can’t seem to consistently love myself, will I ever find that special someone to love me back? Ironically, I think having that someone, that support is what helps you remember to love yourself, how to love oneself.  Without it, a single person just takes a little longer to get back to the zone.

So maybe I am just having a fat day….and here’s hoping tomorrow, I’ll love my hair, love the scale, and love myself all the same.  For all you women out there that agree, thank you!!! It’s nice to be in good company.  But just to be safe….since I’m not sleeping anyway, the elliptical beckons.  Good night all…..

My other half

With one look from his eyes I’m hooked,

drawn in, mesmerized by his soul.

He can make me smile, when I really want to cry.

He makes me feel when inside all has died.

He wakes me from a slumber, with intense passion.

He brings me to life with the stroke of a hand.

He brings meaning to my world, reminds me of life’s purpose.

He holds me tightly, warmly, keeps me safe from harm.

He is my deepest desire magnified a thousand times.

He is my dream, my future, I hope to one day find;

for he would truly be special, one of a kind.

He would in fact complete me, as the saying goes.

He’d be the other half of my empty, lonely soul.