Lest We Forget: Sacrifice and the Ultimate Price

Another November 11; another Remembrance Day and sometimes I wonder if we’ve dropped the ball. I certainly hope not. Am re-sharing this post from a year ago as a remembrance of the young man my maternal grandmother’s family sacrificed for the cause of responsible freedom and democracy. Lest we forget … ~*~ When I was … More Lest We Forget: Sacrifice and the Ultimate Price

Forgiveness …

The pain is deep ~ You put it there. Not that you knew it, You were simply sailing Your oblivious sea And I, being an innocent, Was caught in your toxic Wake; my life line The place in my Soul you Could not reach. * I forgive you. I forgive because Drowning in the pain Of you hurts only me, … More Forgiveness …

The Heart Knows

Daily Prompt: Too Big to Fail Tell us about something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail (and tell us why you haven’t tried it yet). ~*~ You ask what is too big to fail? Life. Life is too big to fail. To live from the heart; To be free of emotional encumbrances … More The Heart Knows

Freeze and Thaw

Daily Prompt: Fight or Flight Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond? ~*~ As someone who’s spent her life surviving the slings and arrows of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) to the point of almost burning out my adrenal glands, I suppose I could … More Freeze and Thaw

Night Terror(ist)

~*~ Lights out … Lurking, Shadow dweller. Haunting and predatory. In the night You cross the boundary. Advance. Faceless, but not Formless. Familiar. Menacing. Paralysis overwhelms. Screams, But no sound. Terror’s creep keeps creeping. Shallow, my breath. * {Breathe.} * Thoughts form. {Be different.} Words speak. Low. Monotone. Controlled, somehow. “What do you want?” I … More Night Terror(ist)

Giving Voice to Anger

At this middle-age stage of life I wonder: “Is there time left for me to see and be my truth?” Recently, at therapy, a discussion around anger. My anger suppressed and turned inward. Emotionally-abandoned as a child, my MO became to hold all my hurt and anger in so as not to create any more reasons for the adults in … More Giving Voice to Anger

Just A Statue

“That’s a bit dark, isn’t it?” Mona screwed her mouth into a pouty knot and grimaced. “Miss Liberty looks like she’s had a few.” “A few what?” asked Lisa. “You know, molto vino.” “Don’t be ridiculous! It’s a statue!” “Whatever … she’s seen better days.” “No doubt.” Mona and Lisa stood together and studied the desolate … More Just A Statue