all you asked for this Christmas was for me to be well

I'm pleading that for you

I knock on his door
With a basket in hand
A celebration
A feast
Enough for two
Or three or more

But just for us
Because this is a momentous occasion

He let's the door creak
Gloom in his eyes
For he has stayed up the whole night
In pain
In disbelief

But I come to him with a picnic
With a celebration

I lead him to the highest hill
It takes us awhile
yet when we reach it
He breathes in fresh air

And I shout for joy
He just smiles

We are here now having a picnic
a feast for victors

The wind blows so softly
Up here
And I feel it through my hair
He does too on his scalp

I notice him
He looks so different, his frame smaller
But his spirit stronger than ever

I see him take a deep breath
I see him take in the view
I see him take a sandwich
I see him

I propose a toast while his hand quivers
'here is to you and your victory! You've come so far..'

He only assures me with a nod
But that's okay,
He's here with me
He made it.

Words
Upon words
Upon words
Upon
Words

Intertwined
Placed beside
Complimented, no
Meshed
With

Actions

That don't quite match up

And the worst kind of reminder
Is not in the reactions of the people
Or the lack of

It is not in the soil that you stand on
For over time it will come
Back. Renewed
Material

It is not in the written
Down words
Even the ones
etched in stone

Instead,
It is in the the souls of eternity
The way beyond
The lives of the future generations

Who will reap our complacency

I find it funny how we always try
to cover up ourselves with the
smallest particles of powder
and colored dust

to change the pigments
of our natural skin tones and hues
that pride in the beauty marks
and dimpled cheeks

how we are enamored by the world
and what it tries so hard to be

but we don't even realize that we
have come from dust ourselves
we make up the fascinations

without even trying

the difference with us and the dust of the world
is that we were hand chosen
to be made into an image
from the Heavens
beautiful

Did  I wake you in the night
from the tossing and the turning?
nightmares who present to me fright
and a heavy heart a' yearning

Venice was where we wanted to go
the thoughts remind me of when
we said we'd follow the river's flow
problems, never to see again

but life has caught us in it's clutch
you are not as well as before
yet you never complained, said it's too much
with a smile and the pain you ignored

while dawn settles in, I let hope whisper
"(when) you are well, we will journey the river."