Dear Beverly

Decades after I last saw you,
I wrote you a letter but didn’t
know where to send it.
I wanted you to know how
much it meant to me that you
included me in your family.
We met in 7th grade, and
soon discovered that we
were born a day apart at
the same local hospital.
Our mothers were
there at the same time.
We always joked that we
were in adjoining bassinets.

As we got to know each other
better, I started spending
nights or weekends at your house.
I never invited you into my home
in all those years that we were friends.
I was embarrassed and ashamed
at my father’s alcoholism and our
less than adequate living conditions.
I didn’t even know the word for what
my father’s troubles were and I didn’t
have the words or courage to tell you
how deeply it affected me.
And you never asked me why,
perhaps both of us too shy.
But being able to spend time
with you and your family,
even joining you on
vacations, was a nice break
and gave me a sense
of normalcy.

As we got older, we went
on dates together with
guys, you mostly with
Bill, who would end up
being your husband one day
and father of your boy.
Our lives took very different
paths after high school however
and we lost touch. You went on
to become an accomplished
nurse and I went the way of
spirituality and communal life.
Some years later we
reconnected back in Orlando.
You and Bill had divorced and
you were about to marry
another. I found out that
your father had passed
away from Alzheimers
many years prior when
he was in his fifties.
It took him young.

We met one other time
when I learned your
mother had passed,
but we drifted apart
again…never really
regaining the friendship
we had forged before.
And then came the day
I sat in stunned silence
as I read your obituary.
I never found out what had
happened…how your life
had ended. I hadn’t
used the opportunity
to let you know how
much you meant to me.
But I like to think that
love doesn’t have boundaries
and you know how much I cared.
Love, Gayle

I too tweaked the prompt today but this really impacted my life and I wanted to share it. I truly believe that all my loved ones know that I love them.

Our newest team member, Kelly, asks us to write love letters to someone before it’s too late or let someone know that we care for them over at dVerse Poets:  http://dversepoets.com/2015/10/27/im-going-to-miss-you-when-youre-gone/

It’s Time

Panic
Image from Bing Images

Panic gripped and I hid away;
I turned tail and ran and tried to keep it at bay.
But it’s useless I know, it’s happened before,
the cycle continues and the pain I deplore.
I know I am judged as weakness overcomes,
the shame that envelopes me, dark and tiresome.
My stuttering excuses fall on deaf ears,
they’ve been said many times, when the beast has appeared.
A lifetime has evolved into a habitual disgrace,
and a pushing against instead of embrace.
It’s a painful admission to put this out here,
but it could help someone else who may disappear.

Come, I say, beckoning to myself, let me hold you in love;
you have much that is worthy and are a sensitive dove.
This reality was created by a small, frightened child,
let go and relax, live a life that’s more mild.
You know it’s your thoughts that have brought this about,
and your worst judge is you, of that there’s no doubt.
So turn them around, make it a practice
create a bright world, and let go of the blackness.

Mary is our hostess today at dVerse Poets after our 3rd year anniversary celebrations. She is inviting us to write something on the subject of time or clocks and use either word in our creation. Thank you, Mary! Join us here: http://dversepoets.com/2014/07/22/poetics-time-and-time-again/

Small Stone # 6

Hearing is failing.
I couldn’t hear her.
Mortified, embarrassed
ashamed, feeling
deeply separate;
hot tears fell
as I shared
with a friend.

I’m projecting fear…

Small Stone # 6 for our Mindful Writing Challenge at Writing Our Way Home: http://www.writingourwayhome.com/search?updated-min=2013-01-01T00:00:00Z&updated-max=2014-01-01T00:00:00Z&max-results=5

Shame

Emotions bubble, escape and spill,
Tears stream, dropping from the edge,
Waves of shame propel them both.
No longer concealed,
Comes out from hiding,
Truth is shared;
It’s not so bad.

Pain Held Tight

He was slight and short for twelve years of age.  His rust colored hair and freckled pale skin was the bane of his life.  His eyes were a deep brown with flecks of carnelian–beautiful really–framed with long, feathery lashes that blinked with mischievousness and always-looking-for-a-joke curiosity.

His sweet vulnerability was overshadowed by a dark secret and shame.  He wore a mask of jovial pretense and protected that place with ardent determination.

No one noticed the quick flash of anguish that passed across his face from time to time or the somber pauses, between the wittiness, that told all.

pain held tight inside

please look deep, not just the shield

hope that someone sees

I took Victoria up on her Monday Morning Writing Prompt of a Haibun.  See her page for definition.  I blended a Flash Fiction story of 100 words with a haiku.http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/snowbirds-lament-a-haibun-napowrimo-day-6/

Dilemma…

Unplanned pregnancy

Brings tears, guilt and intense shame.

A day later–peace.

Day ten of Haiku Challenge:  http://pendownmythought.blogspot.com/

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