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Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Loss of him

From the depths of my soul
Come hunger for more love
And thirst for more healing.
For so long I have ached
From a loneliness wound
Though loving friends
And abundant family surround.

In the light of day
In the black of night
I work on dealing.
For so long this wound
Held prisoner my focus
Though the ache not acute
Nothing else could be found.

Feared alone in my pain
Life seemed to be my sentence
For crimes I'd forgotten or never done.
This drink of depression
Though not my own vice
Was the weapon
Rage used to bring innocense down.

As I've grown quite aware,
A tension leaves the air
When I realize I'm not alone anymore.
For the wrath was brought down
Making no waves for himself
Because help made no sound.
So I gather my memories up for now.

As loss takes it's toll
Away all the years go
When I vow to keep only the good.
These memories somehow
Seem to hold more value now
Than they did when they were new
This great pretender leaves without a bow.

I may have his blood
And he may have my love
But his memory still haunts me today.
I will always be grateful
For the good thoughts of him
That shine through the bad
To make peace they are all I can allow.

- I love u, Dad. Thank you for helping make me who I am today. For the good, bad and the ugly all have played a part in my journey. Gone but not forgotten. After 13 years I still feel sorrow and anger that you are gone, but I love you - faults and all- and you have impacted my direction in life more than anyone else in my world. You are still missed. Thought of you all day today. Something tells me that you are out there, which means that my faith is being renewed in forgiveness, healing and grace. I am listening.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Time of Different

Passing through space
All voices are silent
No see-ers can see tomorrow

Echoes of moments past
Lurk looking for meaning
Only time will tell happy from sorrow

As the new day approaches
The dawn of change shows
From the passion of revolution
No one can borrow

With a high flying conscience
And a low spilling pride
The birth of different
Could happen tomorrow.

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