Everyone knows that roses have thorns
But must there be thorns on my daisies too?
Looking for beauty my fingers find pain.

Not every path needs to be level and smooth
But why must mine always be broken and steep
And why is the Sun forbidden to shine.

Where are the birds God promised to send.
Their music is healing and I am in need
But the treetops are empty  - I hear only pain

I once saw a rainbow where one didn’t belong
And took from it hope that all would be well
The last of that hope still supports me today.
ljm

All alone in an unhappy place
Where all the walls are mirrors
And ugliness is looking back
No matter which way I may turn.

There doesn’t seem to be a door-
Just only mirrored walls and ceiling.
The cold floor hurts my shoeless feet
As endlessly I pace in circles.

The crowd of people in the glass
Have followed me for many years
Behind the curtains - in the shade-
Never coming face to face.

But here they now encounter me
With looks of reprehension…
And all I have to offer them
Are bitter tears of sad regret
ljm

My young niece,  she used sing in the church choir
But when she grew older she left the choir
She got her nose pierced,  became a Vegan and Social Justice warrior
Now it was all about the planet and everything having to be done a certain way ...or else LoL
When she'd come to visit, she used complain
Your house Uncle it's s so cluttered, all these little nick nacks and ornaments you have and all these books
You should get rid of half this stuff, bring it all down to the charity shop
I looked at her and said, said quite mysteriously "My world... my world is not your world"
I picked up an ornament and said "This world has a lot of ugliness in it, these things remind me that there's beauty too '
I pointed at the books up on the shelves
"I can tell you why I bought every one of those books, what they meant to me
I can tell you what I was going through at the time...
And how they helped keep me sane in this... this crazy world"
Then my niece she picked up a book, it was a children's book with pictures in it
You probably won't need this one she said, it's only a kid's book
I looked at her in horror, then suddenly said real dramatic like
"Stop! Don't move!! Stay very very still!"
What's wrong ! she said a bit concerned
"That book you're holding, it's... it's God !!"
What!! she said
"There's a picture of God in that book...or the God experience, the spiritual thing
That's why I bought it"
She looked a bit lost, even afraid
I smiled at her bewilderment and continued
When I was younger I used suffer from anxiety and from ideas that made no sense to me...I was plagued 
I got interested in meditation and self hypnosis various relaxation techniques
Quietening the mind, that sort of thing
I managed to train my mind to stay quiet for very long periods
It's a very hard thing to do but it is possible
One night I went to bed, I was lying there with my eyes closed when suddenly this strange feeling came over me
It was like something was happening, happening in my head, it was like there was suddenly something coming down upon me
And then... then I seen it even though my eyes they were closed
I seen...something I hadn't seen since I was a little child, an infant in my cot some thirty years before
I was...I was astonished
And I remembered... I could still remember
There were several stages in it and you'd pass from one stage into the next
I got so excited
I thought to myself "I remember this!  I remember this!!!
I used to get this when I was very young"
I was so excited I only managed to get through several of the stages before I opened my eyes I pulled out of it because I was just blown away by the whole experience...at seeing it again  (after all those years)
I lay there amazed at what I'd just seen"
Here I stopped and looked away rather sadly into the distance
"Unfortunately though around that time I'd also recently bought a book on Positive thinking, a bestseller, one that was very highly regarded
For some reason I can't think of now I chose to go with the Positive thinking book
Rather than to continue with my quiet mind meditation thing
Yea, I chose something from the world rather than that which I'd found within my own self...something that was wholly mine
It's something... something I've always regretted ... not continuing with my quiet mind meditation
One day a few years later I was in a bookshop browsing
I was looking in the bargain bin
And I seen that book, I was looking at the pictures
And there was this one picture that fascinated me
It reminded me of my experience that night
I had to buy it because of that".

I looked at my niece and said  
"In that book there's pictures, look through the pictures, take your time
Pick out the picture which you find the most interesting, the most fascinating ...the one that seems to speak to you the most
When you've made your choice, close the book and give it back to me
But don't tell me which picture you've chosen
Then I'll open the book and I'll show you yes!,  I'll show you the picture you've chosen ".
My niece said "OK" as if it were a challenge, she went away with the book, about half an hour later she came up to me
I asked her "Was there a picture that...that spoke to you, that you...you liked"
"There was...there was one yea, one that was very strange ", she answered
She handed the book back to me
I opened it and turned to the page which reminded me of my meditative experience
I turned the book around and pointing at the picture said "This is the picture you chose, isn't it"
My niece she smiled looking very surprised, as if it were some kind of trick  "How did you know...how did you know I'd pick that picture"
I replied "You're young, maybe you too still have a remembrance hidden somewhere...a memory...of that special time....long ago".

(A repost from 2019)

My favorite aunt is dying.. cancer, quiet and consuming as a flame..

Seven short weeks ago she was easily doing an hour of step aerobics, unaware of this intruder, this murderer within. Now she's lifted from bed like a rag doll.

She is my mom, well, a near twin—only smaller, funnier, serpent sly, more heavenly childish, sapient with sweet attractive grace and modest pride.

I am in total awe of her. We're kindred spirits, two sillies among the dull and endlessly serious.

I feel her, see her, day by day, slipping away like the hastening angel of heaven foretold.

This is too big for me, too awful and too close.

I am struck helpless, nothing moves, I sit, hardly feeling, and watch her sleep. Death's cruel process suddenly made visible.

I silently rage at the loss of it—my loudest vehemence pointed to this ravenous, lurking enemy pursuing her inwardly like a swarm of deadly hornets accidentally composed.

40 and still stunningly beautiful, she lies surrounded by computers, iPads, phones, faxes, intercoms, notepads, friends and care-givers. Her life reduced to escaping pain and making arrangements for her soon to be orphaned children 4 and 6.

Fentanyl and other pain blockers are her nourishment and seem to work better in the daylight as lawyers garner powers of attorney, bankers conjure trusts and estate planners build foundations to protect small children from a mothers loss.

As if they could replace a single hug
.
.
Songs for this (Gospel music):
Order My Steps by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir
Angel by Sarah McLachlan
Jesus Loves Me by Whitney Houston

My heart is a stained glass window, fragile as a Rose in May
refracting light from every angle, it holds life's leeway
Suffused with fragments of love,  I can be warm as night    
filled with a sense of awe, when you tilt me to the light,  
                                 I feel just right  
My heart is a stained glass window, fragile as a Rose in May !
Fragmented beauty encased in bursting beams of afterglow
if I follow only yesterdays, life can soon appear surreal  
Infused with an outside world that can often smite  
I choose to live inside my own reflective colors,  
                                           Always, in the light   !
Fragmented beauty encased in bursting beams of afterglow
My heart is a monument to all that I have lived and known
changing and bending with every curving path
it has been overused and "Inter-diffused" many times  
like this mosaic piece of art I call "stained glass window "  
                                I am a,   "Pièce de ré·sis·tance " ( a work of art)
My heart is a monument to all that I have lived and known
My heart is a stained glass window, fragile as a Rose in May
When I pray with it, it remembers to give thanks, in every way.