Tag Archives: poetry

A Fare Thee Well

It’s been fun,
It’s been real,
It’s time for me to move on from here.

We’ve shared some jokes,
We’ve cried real tears,
This whole group has been so dear.

Please don’t cry,
Please don’t moan,
Catch me in my new blog home.

The last 2 or 3 months have been some of the most challenging in my life.

I walked with my partner through his hip replacement. Then just days before Christmas, I learned how to adjust his concentrator and set up a manual oxygen tank if the power goes down because his COPD has worsened.

I walked with my older two through testing that indicated that their eyes met the bare minimum legal requirements to drive, but their brains just don’t quite have the speed to drive. OT may or may not improve that.

My mother couldn’t help as much as she would have liked because she fractured her wrist due to a fall on the last night she helped us after my husband’s surgery.

And right about New Year’s I came down with a virus that zapped me for about two weeks.

All the while this has been going on, I’ve been considering my blogging home.

Around Thanksgiving, I had another one of my FB rants on FB about several issues. In the course of conversation, I was invited to try Medium, another blogging platform.

I started my account, deleted it, and started again. When I got in, I was amazed and surprised and overwhelmed. But I loved it…

For nearly three weeks, I’ve been putting content out here and there. I also tried moving some of my content from here to there.

While I don’t have the same following or like there that I do here, I really liked the diversity of thought and variety of writers and posts that I saw. The reviewing layout was also awesome. I’m still struggling with my format limitations on my posts as well as a more complicated posting process. But in general, I liked it a little better.

So, I made the painful decision that I am going to be doing my blogging on Medium. Please come visit me at my blog’s next edition, cornily and egotistically entitled Kittie Phoenix, The Next Edition.

It’s going to be the same mix of poetry, inspiration, and opining that you’ve come to expect from me here. It’s just at a different web address. And I’m working on bringing some of the better pieces (your favorites by number of likes and my favorites as the author) into the new location.

And no, I haven’t figured out what to do with the token to send it here from there. If I do, I might send some of the better ones here.

Thanks for the memories.

And now, in case we don’t meet electronically on this side of eternity again, to (mis)quote a far better Writer than I:

The LORD bless you and keep you. The LORD make His face shine on you and give you grace. The LORD turn His face to you and give you His peace. May you wear His name and be blessed.

 

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Jewels of Her Tears

The tears of a woman
Are jewels from the hand of heaven.
They are a down payment
On a future of love, joy, and companionship.

A man who can’t handle
The tears of a woman
Will never treasure the heart of a woman.
Abba numbers a woman’s tears.
He dances with the happy tears,
Weeps as she mourns,
And acts justly on the angry tears.
A man who follows after Abba’s heart
Will wisely and judiciously
Count each shed tear
A jewel in his heavenly crown.
He will treasure the trust
She shows by crying before him.
He will never harm
A weeping princess of God Most High.

Only a sophomoric sop turns his back.
Only a fool ignores a woman who weeps.
Only a coward scorns the jewels falling from her face.

Your Mistake

You were given a treasure,
A jewel of great value
Buried in the dust
Among the graves and ruins of humankind,
But you were young.
You lacked experience.
You were befuddled by the weeping woman-child.
You could have held her,
But you hung your arms bewildered.
She could have been yours,
Whisked away from another man-child.
You could have wooed her all night,
But you botched the job.
You passed her off.
Who knows what was lost that night?

Waiting Room

Sitting and waiting
On a day we knew would come for months
Exhaustion wrestles anxiety in an epic match
It looks like exhaustion has anxiety in a submission hold
But anxiety kicks out
I know you’re in good hands
But I’m alone
Help asked for always denied
So Jesus sits watching invisibly at my back
If I could dig trust out of the heart closet
Life would be better for us all

Letting Go

Author’s Note: Hoping against all hope this is the last on this topic for this year. Late fall was never my time of year; I always seemed to face tough decisions with the wrong outcome or received bad news. (Yes, I am publishing way after authoring. 🙂 )

Always different, never fitting in,
Meandering, orbiting, never connecting,
Yet somehow I found brothers and friends.

But the shackle on my finger
Locked the blinders on my eyes.
A weapon invisible in the distant mists
Barred me from taking the shackle and blinders off.

My heart was frozen…
My mind was a rock…
My tongue was a sword…

I wanted to push you away,
To protect you,
I couldn’t, wouldn’t cradle bloody, cold corpses.

I just wanted to hide in the open for a while
So your lives could shine.

I called “Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free,”
But you were all gone,
Like sand flowing over my fingers
Digging at the shore.

Some are lost, some are found,
And nothing’s coming back,
Nothing’s back for me now.

And though I’ve seen light and life and joy,
The prison door’s still open.
I crawl in,
Covered in my briny tears,
Wallowing in guilt and loss, shame and remorse.
Then push out,
Becoming a joy filled robot again.

Someday…
I want to tear the prison down;
I want to let it all go;
I want to really live free with joy.

For now…
It’s only words–
Too few at the time,
Too many too late.

Rock, Paper, Scissors… Gun!

Author’s Note: In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’ve been some very dark places. But I am in a good place now. So with the help of appropriate supports I am going back to the dark places and giving myself the voice I didn’t have then. This is dedicated to all victims and survivors of domestic violence, dating violence, and relationship abuse.

Rock, Paper, Scissors…
Simple child’s play.
Nerds ramped it up
Based on dark places.
Gun scares dog.
Gun burns paper.
Gun shoots lizard.
Spock disarms gun.
Rock smashes gun.
Scissors jam gun.
But that’s child’s play,
And the little girl in the woman can’t play.
She can’t come out to play.
The gun not held to her head
Jams her heart and mind.
She cries and shakes and begs:
What kills gun in real life,
What kills gun in real life?!?
Gun scares girl.
Gun burns friends.
Gun doesn’t shoot yet…
Why didn’t Jesus disarm the gun?
Why couldn’t love smash the gun?
Angels did jam the gun.
The gun blast never heard
Set off sparks in a powder keg.
Ring around the girl
Burns it all to ash
We all fall and never shine as we were meant to.
And still the ghost gun makes the little girl ask,
“What hurts gun?”

My Judas Lament

I fell into a dark chasm that year.
Decades ago you watched but didn’t know…

Where I was
Why I was there
What I needed

I shouted in the deep and dazzling darkness,
But I was lying and denying the truth.

The flames exploded from my lips
Into your broken, frozen heart.
As I traded deception and reality,
I sold you out,
Thinking I was buying you safety from destruction.

How great is the damage I’ve done!
What have I cost you, my friend?
How can I repay this staggering debt?

Have I destroyed your chance at eternity?
Have I devoured the calling on your heart?
Have I stolen soul upon soul from salvation and shepherding?
Have I killed the grand babies your mamma want,
All blue-eyed, sweet, and innocent?

Your friend became the Enemy that night,
And you turned from our true Master
Whom I never really served well.

Forgive me.
Come home.
Make it right.

I can’t, you can’t, we can’t, they can’t.

I’ve fallen and I can’t get up;
We’ve fallen, and the King hasn’t helped put us back together again.

Maybe letting go then was wrong.
And holding on now is wrong.
It’s all wrong.