Seranaea Jones: Favorites

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

Stephen E Yocum

awoke heart pounding,
uneasy, eyes blinking.
dreamed of her again,
knew it was my mother
but could not clearly
make out her face.

In the half dark room,
I sat up in bed and then
awake could still not recall
her face or features.

Detached and distressed,
slow tears came to my eyes,
though it had been 53 years
since she passed away, how
could I lose her image thus?

Standing from my bed, I
flipped on the bedroom light.
There on the wall was an old
black and white photo with
that reassuring still familiar
sweet face of my mother,
my father and two little
boys, being my brother
and me.

I smiled and returned to
normal breathing.
"Aw, there you are mom".

Mom died at only 54 years of age,
I still miss her and dad too.
I have grown old myself and
perhaps my memories are
diminishing, as are my remaining
days. Thankfully we have
photographs to remind us of
our lost loved ones and what
we imagine were better days.

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

A World Of My Own

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

SiouxF

A World Of My Own

Living in a world of my own,
Bound in beguiling threads
In an intricately tapestried mind map,
Always thinking,
Rarely living,
Socially isolated,
Socially inept,
A prisoner of my mind,
Falling down never ending rabbit holes
Into boundless oceans of despondency and despair,
Paralysed by confusion,
An assault on the senses,
Suffocating,
Unable to breathe.

A familiar light shines in the distance,
I swim towards it,
Limbs thrashing,
One stroke forward,
Two strokes back,
One stroke forward,
One stroke back,
Two strokes forward,
One stroke back,
Slowly, slowly,
Closer and closer,
Until I reach the life raft and arms of my saviour,
Who never gave up hope of finding me again,
Even in the darkest hours.

#aspergers #autism

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

for absent friends

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

Wk kortas

for absent friends

Unlike the feted Ebenezer, our intangible visitors
Are not necessarily seasonal in nature,
Nor do they waft into scene
As the result of our direct malfeasance
(Sometimes the case, to be sure,
But more likely they are the stepchildren
Of our omissions rather than our commissions)
Coming among us not through wanton transgressions,
But the upshot of our mortality
And its associated failings,
And as they glide translucently among us
In this season where the darkness comes so early
(Yet the light clutching the western horizon
For an imperceptibly longer time each day)
Their presence may be somewhat more benign
If we are able to undertake the act
Of forgiving ourselves.

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

Attachments

Dec 2021 Seranaea Jones

Khoisan

Attachments

Strong as the chain of my DNA
on the inside
weak as a single strand
on the outside
I won the race for life
in the first place
still I need your shoulder
to be sure
I'll give you mine anytime
even now feeling
I may have drawn
the shortest straw
strands ain't strings
and yours
could be wrong.

friends or baggage

#attachments