Some days I laugh,
other days I disappear.
Both are parts of healing,
I’ve learned not to fear

What can be worse,
trying to,
**** some-thing,
beautiful.
That thing,
is a conscious
of another
being.
I know
I mean nothing
as the fan,
blows me to
some-where.

Trouble is it
always gets me
and in the lifts
as wind shifts,
will always speak,

Angels are
humbling
and left are
just 4 words,
the hidden,
and arrested.

A quiet moment
I steal it and wrap the stillness around myself
Bury my head in it
Until the sharp, outraged cry of my babe
Indignant at being left alone in his crib
Pulls the covers off
leaves me cold, shivering
Then I’m up
Tripping along
to my day job as Mommy


© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

Heart of gold,
Your hands grow cold.

Heart of gold,
This is not the end.

Heart of gold,
You are invincible.

Your memory will be,

𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙.