In a room where shadows stretched like sighs,
Where time wore slippers and whispered lies,
There stood a soul, not born, but built,
Threaded not from ease, but quilted guilt,
Not soft by chance, but choice refined,
By all the jagged things behind.

She walked where tempests cracked the sky,
Where childhood dreams went soft and dry,
Where harsh words bruised like winter sleet,
Yet still she offered something sweet.
Not sugar spun from naivety,
But honey from a wisdom tree.

For kindness, see, is not a gift
Wrapped neat in bows and morning lift,
It’s forged in fire, steeped in rain,
Tempered in sorrow, kissed by pain.
It’s choosing light with eyes gone dim,
And humming hope when edges grim.

She smiles not out of ignorance,
But as rebellion. As a dance.
As a thumb pressed gently in the eye
Of every grief that whispered: Why?

She learned to bloom where nothing grew,
To soften sharpness, split in two,
And still she laughed. And still she gave.
And still she found more hearts to save.

The kindest souls are not naive,
They know how often people leave,
How promises can turn to smoke,
Yet still, they mend the ones who broke.

So if you meet one - bless the thread
That stitched their wounds and raised their head.
They are the lanterns, fierce and bright,
Born not in ease, but in the night.

Our final steps
are never meant to be
one step on the moon
or a leap for mankind.

It was your memory,
intangible.
metaphysically physical
synaptically existing.

My mother's
mothering
mother, Bernice.

or

A lover's
loving
love, Helena.

or

Writer's
writing
wrote, poems.

what you not
till LA diplomacy
became my habit
toxic offender
Britain's  detainee
fleeing grey's
a runt in sign
ab stains in Russian
stoic without the light
nightmare i warred app
next bus to nowhere
findings inside papers i hide
can't re-cut the record
the cloths plain spent
too much filthy Irish ink to blink

Oh, tender balm, the sweetest art,
A force unseen that mends the heart,
Through whispered winds and golden light,
Love heals the wounds of endless night.

Its touch is soft, yet deeply sure,
A salve for pain no time could cure.
In every glance, in every sigh,
It weaves a bridge where sorrows lie.

Beneath the shadows, cold and deep,
Where silent fears and heartbreaks sleep,
Love stirs the soul, ignites the flame,
And teaches us we're not to blame.

It breaks the chains of loss and woe,
Through gentle streams, it bids us grow.
A symphony of hope it plays,
And paints with grace the darkest days.

When grief has silenced all our songs,
And life feels cruel, unjust, and wrong,
Love bends the air with soft refrain,
And fills the cracks with joy again.

It dwells in hands that hold with care,
In every prayer, in every stare.
In laughter shared and tears that flow,
Love whispers, "Child, you're not alone."

Its healing power transcends the scars,
Unites the earth, connects the stars.
A boundless force, it knows no end,
A steadfast guide, a truest friend.

Through love, the shattered heart is whole,
It breathes new life into the soul.
Oh, sacred cure, eternal grace,
The healer time cannot replace.

For love is more than fleeting bliss;
It lives in every tender kiss,
In acts of kindness, pure and true,
The healing of love renews, anew.

Leaves like strings it sounds
Alone wolf all we hounds,
when earth shakes and trembles
strong wind nimbles and wistles.

On day like Feast we mourn
Our hearts are scourge and torn,
Its hard to find a way
When the tears rain and stay.

today we dig a hole and burry
forever in our hearts we carry,
a loving hand of yours are rare
all memories shared are bare.

Help us stand again,
From this weary and broken pain,
With your hand to guide us through,
We'll rise again, strong and anew.

I guess sometimes
You think I just don’t care
Because I don’t make my entire life
A tragedy
Just because of a chapter.

We are called out for the mission
To give of love without condition
Some are called to the foreign land
But all are to be his feet and hands
Where words fall silent, love speaks
To find a home is what the heart seeks
Our own homes can be the mission field
Our towns and communities to be healed
Preach with conviction, with peace, not rage
The voice of a prophet and wisdom of a sage
They will see your joy and how it is portrayed
In the face of persecution, you stand unafraid
If they question, they are open
If they are open turn them not away
Pray for them and with them
I will break their hearts of stone
Until they beat for me alone
Each of us has a mission should we accept it
Something to reach out right where we are
At work, in town, or riding in your car
Each gifted uniquely for a special role
And what a gift to uplift another human soul
To care for the widows and orphans
The forgotten and the oppressed
The stranger and the refugees
To work and know the work is blessed
Each of us is on a mission to do the work of God
Just don't expect the whole world to applaud
Sow the seeds of faith and hope
The seeds of charity and love
The wisdom of God was spoken
Like an echo from above

I do too much,
Away too often.
I do too little.
Chaos at home.
The laundry piles up,
The house in shambles.
The garden grows wild,
The grass too long.
Not enough.

I am too busy,
Restless nights.
Take my rest,
Feels like a sin.
Too busy with others,
I lose myself.
Choosing for me,
Leaves me filled with guilt.
Still not enough.

I care—
But maybe too much.
Pour out all my love,
Yet miss your rhythm.
I want to be there,
But I struggle with time.
Thought caring was my strength.
But I disappear while trying.
It’s just never enough.