BIG SECRET----- Don't tell anyone, but I'd love to be a real writer who gets a real paycheck from writing. I love poetry, and sometimes I write it, but I'm REALLY shy about sharing it...
<<< takes big deep breath >>>
So here goes....
Peace is the knowledge
That with what little you were given
You have climbed a fortress protected by
The sharp fragments of years of broken dreams
And the twisted barbs of biological families
And poured into the sieve of her heart
all the love and
you could find.
And your calloused, tired, bruised hands tried to plug the holes
Stop it all from running down the drain,
But you watch again and again and again as your efforts bleed down your
fingers onto your forearms.
Peace is knowing that some of those things will slowly
stick to the sides of her heart,
trapped on the very holes of the sieve you tried to plug.
Or caught on the patches of scar tissue left by those who didn’t truly love.
Peace is walking the shore at sunset, her picture in your hand, and facing the
Ocean, the wind, the coming storm, yourself and your God, and knowing
Beyond everything else,
That you did
As right as you could.
ba-deep ba-deep ba-deep . . .
7 years ago