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~~♡~~

From a grateful Soul's heart
I feel the need
To thank you for loving
In thought and in deed

I left for a long time
Didn't say where I was
Didn't give a goodbye  
Didn't make a big fuss

And here I come back
With no word of my life
Didn't tell you the details
Of my burdens and strife

Let me just telling you
That there's been no lack.
But you asked no questions
And accepted me back!

I just cannot tell you
What that means to me.
But I want you to know
And I want you to see.

I've thought of you often
And prayed for you more
I did not know then
What was in store

I returned to HP
Didn't have to atone
You opened your arms...

And WELCOMED ME HOME!

Now I rest easy
I can make a new start
The timing is perfect
From a grateful Soul's heart!

♡ Catherine
'Nuf said.
 Nov 2016 Ami Shae
SE Reimer
~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss.  whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after.  yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning.  (Isaiah 61:3)    

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope!  hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve
 Nov 2016 Ami Shae
Valsa George
Writing of a poem
Oh! How it can be likened
To having a baby!

With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception

      It can happen any day
      Unanticipated or planned erstwhile
On a star studded night
Or a rain drenched morn
It swims into you as a seed
So tiny… so inconspicuous
Once the pregnancy confirmed
Comes irritation, nausea
Lethargy and loss of appetite
Your stomach rarely growls for food
Clouds of words hang heavy and low,
Refusing to break into showers
They don’t gush or rush.
Ideas dry up leaving the nib parched
Lines crack n’ break
Depression follows
Discouraged, you feel fatigued

But all the while you begin to realize
That a new life
Independent of you
Has begun growing inside you
Then all the care taken
To foster the young life

You read…
You refer the lexicon
You withdraw from other works
Take rest, relax in solitude

Slowly the foetus moves
The first stirring of life!
With fond fingers, as you pat your belly
Your pen pats the paper
The first line…..
The first faint beating of the heart!
Then words….
Like little harness bells tingling
Fall in line, line after line!

Drawing nourishment from you,
The embryo grows limb by limb
The miniscule of insight
Grown after months of waiting
Into a mature body of illumination!
A stretch of your dreams!
A suffusion of light!

After the labor pains
Of scribbling and scrawling,
Writing and rewriting,
Deleting, adding and editing,
With time stretching and contracting,
A baby, no, a poem is born.

Whether cute or ugly
No mother can dislike it
She marvels at its birth
Wraps it in her warmth
She must have had in mind a name
Or seeks to find a name;
An apt name

Thus a poem with a title is born!
She wonders if her baby would lit a smile,
On others lips too
Or from them would flow,
Words of endearment as from a trickle!
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