Inside of me
exist two or three
each fighting for
the best hold on me.

Fighting to win
the dubious prize
which one will show up
one cannot surmise.

Tugging and pulling
pushing and shoving,
creating a wind storm
to fight off the loving.

One is the babe
who lived but should not
Another the child
whose family cared naught.

Then there's the teen
full of demons and fear
This part of me
is always quite near.

The fighting continues
the grip has its hold
but one day, I hope,
them all I'll enfold.

# # #

Sue- a quickie off the top of my head... decided to jump in and put all negative thoughts about this under the table... There are no mistakes in sharing and creating...

Tag: Puzzle -- anyone??

I lay it all out, convinced I'll find

this time, the missing pieces.....

to have lived this long, tried this hard

I surely could complete it....

I hear someone chuckle...in the dark of night

It's Papa! I'm sure he is there....

it matters to me, to finish it first

before sleeping where no one cares.


The tag is Guilty.

Welcome Pearl~ I hope this is the first of many games of tag you play with us. Your words are amazing-a print out for sure.
Alffe-you and Pearl both spoke of what I feel-I feel like the oldest teenager around. I feel like I should have it figured out by now.
And then I try to remember that I do have some of the puzzle solved. I have learned:
The moment counts-friendship is the family you build for yourself-and in the words of the poster in my room, "Enjoying. Paying attention.No hurry to get on to something more important. Whatever we are doing is important, experiencing each moment along the way. Time is a gift."

OK-I am guilty of only blabbing and not doing the tag-so it is still guilty.

Guilty.
A feeling that is getting harder & harder to own
Just to please the voices in my head or my conscience,
And especially not just to please the uninformed.
Guilty.
Should be called Pre-Smart or Pre-arrival,
Because once you have arrived at this stage in the game
You know that you are not guilty, just experienced.
You are not guilty-just human.
Not guilty-just an apprentice
of life
and love
and loss
and you.

OK-I did guilty-anyone else want to tackle it?

Guilty

Feeling guilty all the time,
The feeling won’t go away,
It always haunts me
And there’s nothing I can say.
Feeling guilty all the time,
I can’t escape this feeling,
This guilt eats away at me,
And sends me reeling.
Feeling guilty all the time,
This feeling makes me so blue
I tried to make it right,
But there was nothing I could do...


~Jaime~

Next tag - Sleep, sleeping.

a time to revive
the sleeper's gain
alludes me most nights
don't want to complain.

an ongoing battle
rarely won
oh sleep, where are you
why have you gone

it's never been easy
to stop the mind's patter
so sleep hides away
but what does it matter

I yearn for the bliss
of a night filled with dreams
instead I get nightmares
or just darkness, it seems

my daytime frustrations
go with me to bed
and keep me from sleeping
Oh, to shut off my head...



Tag: sleep/sleeping again, or MOURNING/MORNING, either

(am I playing this game right ??? )

Tribute to children who lit up the world briefly and then were gone:

In a beautiful padded and decorated whiskey box
my little babies lie
safe from all pain and hurt
safe from my nursing procedures
now a little footprint on a card and perhaps a lock of their hair is
enough to jog my memory
of their wee fighting spirits.

The precious girl whose grandma burned her under hot water
she suffered so before she died
I appreciated the privilige that was mine
to enter into her world and show her love and kindness
she always seemed to know I was just trying to help
even when I had to add to her pain.
She is there in a picture of her with a toothless grin.

In the red rose lidded box is the birth card of the baby
born with his spinal cord lying twisted on his back,
and the sweet little one with his intestines outside of his body
and oh my, now I read a eulogy of one of my special ones
who lived 35 hours with only me by her side.
some with footprints only as big as my thumbnail
some old enough to call out for their mom
some I knew for just awhile
Some I cared for so long
they glued their hearts to mine.

Next Tag: Mourning or Reasons