These are the cyclical watches:
Waking dawns of healing,
Walking light of realization,
Rejoicing contentment,
Sitting afternoons of temptation,
Wandering twilight rebellion,
Wallowing nights of sin,
Shrieking midnight repentance,
Mournful watches before dawn....
These are the days of shriving.

Trauma Center

Smoke
Liquid on the ground
My head spinning
"Are you ok", I hear her asking
"I'm an EMT"
I hear a male say
"Hold on don't close your eyes, help is coming"
Then what appeared to be the longest wait reaches an end
I hear a man almost ripping out the door from my new red car (doesn't matter it's just a car)
Finally with a neck brace and on a stretcher
Flashing lights and sirens screaming
It hit me
I can't move and my abdomen feels like I got punched a million times
I can feel someone cutting through my pants
My knees where bleeding
"Where your pants torn before the impact?"
" no," I answer
How? I was just driving

"We're here"
Push, push
Hurry, hurry
I feel all, ALL of my clothes being cut off
Tests and more tests
I'm just thankful I'm alive!  

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The Things we take for granted

I used to breathe without having to think about it
Now I slowly inhale waiting for the pain that follows
I used to get up...in seconds I'd be on my feet
Now the pain is excruciating
I need support to pull myself up
Getting into bed is another eternal task
But thankful to God that I'm still here
And working on recuperating
Please wear your seat belt it saved my life

Pray for me
* the lady that came to my help... she sat next to me, prayed for me as we waited for the  paramedics-- her name was Lina! like me:) coincidence? I think not

There'd only plundering be;
If all of us were wolves,
No sheep could flee....

Oh, the pirate's life for thee.
And the pirate's life for me,
And the world were all in flames,
And the world were all in flames.

If everyone were pirates,
Why, villains all we'd be,
And every deck-born swab
Would glower at you and me

With our laces and our kerchiefs,
And our killer pirate wigs
As we stormed across the continents and seas;
As we stormed across the continents and seas.

And good men, none, would live their lives,
With the gentling help of their good wives;
And children, all, would yell and terrorize,
Chasing down the nursemaid with the kitchen knives.

If everyone were pirates,
No farmers, and no fishers on the beach,
No bakers, and no soldiers continental,
No doctors, and no teachers left to teach,
No preachers and no sermons for to preach,
But only pirates coming up the streets...
But only pirates coming up the streets.

South Carolina summers were hot,
They were long and dry,
And for Mama, they were lonley.

Mama lived at the very end of our street.
She lived alone,
No chil'ren and no Husban'

She spent her days makin' sweet tea
And leomonaide, and pound cake.
She'd sit on her ol' rockin' chair,
And she'd whistle.

Mama was the best whistler in town,
All the kids in the neighboorhood came by
To hear her whistle.

She'd watch over us,
Scold those in need of scoldin'
She'd tell us not to climb the big oak tree
But we still did.

I didn't know it then,
But those long summers
Were the best I ever had.

The ice in my glass of sweet tea
Shone like diamonds.
And Mama's song,
Still plays in my head.

South Carolina summer were hot,
And they were too short.

Five years to the day your heart attack began.
Thinking of you, my own chest hurt;
I imagined pain in my shoulders,
Felt the weariness of years...
Even shed some tears.

April Fools Day, 2012, long on the shelf,
Returns fresh, cuts like a blunt knife,
Tears my innards; causes me to gasp...
The phone call of your imminent demise
Returns to mind,
Drives the blade to the hasp.

Heavy days, these April Fools'
Not the tom-fool days they used to be.
These are days to shake my core,
To stomp and worry my heart sore,
And ask if I'll live through many more.