To Be Free

Do what you love

Do what you fear

Be proud of where you come from

It brought you here.

Explore amazing places

No need to look far

Don’t be afraid to be alone

You never are.

Pursue dreams with fire

Cherish moments that won’t last

Slow down

See the beauty of what’s moving past.

Dance bold, sing loud

There’s wisdom in fun

Be kind, be a hero

Even just for one.

You have rainbows to chase

Places to be

You have choices to make

Choose always

To be free.

If Tommorrow Starts Without Me

"If tomorrow starts without me,

And I'm not there to see,

If the sun should rise and find your eyes

all filled with tears for me;

I wish so much you wouldn't cry

the way you did today,

While thinking of the many things,

We didn't get to say.

I know how much you love me,

As much as I love you,

And each time that you think of me,

I know you'll miss me too;

But when tomorrow starts without me,

Please try to understand,

that an angel came and called my name,

And took me by the hand,

And said my place was ready,

In heaven far above,

And that I'd have to leave behind

all those I dearly love.

But as I turned to walk away,

A tear fell from my eye,

For all my life, I'd always thought,

I didn't want to die.

I had so much to live for,

So much left yet to do,

it seemed almost impossible,

that I was leaving you.

I thought of all the yesterdays,

The good ones and the bad,

I thought of all that we shared,

And all the fun we had.

If I could relive yesterday,

Just even for a while,

I'd say good-bye and kiss you

and maybe see you smile.

But then I fully realized,

That this could never be,

For emptiness and memories,

would take the place of me.

And when I thought of worldly things,

I might miss some tomorrow,

I thought of you, and when I did,

My heart was filled with sorrow.

But when I walked through heaven's gates,

I felt so much at home.

When God looked down and smiled at me,

From His great golden throne,

He said, "This is eternity,

And all I've promised you."

Today your life on earth is past,

but here life starts anew.

I promise no tomorrow,

But today will always last,

and since each day is the same way,

There's no longing for the past.

So when tomorrow starts without me,

don't think we're far apart,

For every time you think of me,

I'm right here, in your heart "

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I Wish You Knew

I Wish You Knew Me When

I wish you knew me when
I greeted each day, arms outstretched
Knowing the day would be full
Of wonderful exciting things

I wish you knew me when
I rode my bike with the wind in my hair
A smile on my face and laughter in my voice
As I called for my friends to join me for the day

I wish you knew me when
Something as simple as a slumber party
Could make me happy for two whole weeks
When playing hide and seek until midnight
Was the best thing that could happen on a warm summer’s night

I wish you knew me when
I could relax enough to lie on a blanket under a tree with my best friend
Read a book, drink kool-aid
Not having to say a word to know that life was good and she was there

I wish you knew me when
My dreams were fresh and young
Full of hope and life
When my heart was full of the day, the hour, the minute
And none of them were wasted or lost.

Grow

Grow.

Grow Courage.

The need for courage.

Grow perspective.

Opinions from the perspective you grow.

Grow peace. or love.

That grows apart. together.

Apart....forever.

Grow Imagination.

Infatuation.

More reasonable expectations.

Grow talent.

Any talent.

Or style.

Any style.

Just plain grow.

Just plain grow up.

Grow friends.

Memories.

Best friends.

Even enemies.

Grow respect.

In defeat.

In victory.

In pursuit of a dream.

Always Grow

Grow all ways.

Sarah

My name is Sarah
I am but three,
My eyes are swollen
I cannot see,

I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made
My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better,
I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my Mommy
Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all,
I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up
The whole day long.

When I awake I'm all alone
The house is dark
My folks aren't home.

When my Mommy does come
I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just
One whipping tonight.

Don't make a sound!
I just heard a car
My daddy is back
From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse
My name he calls
I press myself
Against the wall.

I try and hide
From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now
I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping
He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault
That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me
And yells at me more,
I finally get free
And I run for the door.

He's already locked it
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me
Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor
With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues
With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!" I scream
But its now much too late
His face has been twisted
Into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain
Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy!
Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless
Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah
And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy
Murdered me.

Second Day of Mourning

Second Day of Mourning

The second day of mourning is always grey,

When the grandeur of elaborate pain

Fades into a comprehensible dawn

The asthmatic morning labored to wheeze

a few competent breaths to last from bus to school.

A grim visage canopies a lurching heart that still stumbles

In the quicksilver and endless corridors of remembering.

Mourning seems such a vain thing.

It cries aloud to be seen, solicits pity with

Conscious tears and wanton dysphoria,

Damns an implosion with a paradoxical front.

Trudging up the overhead bridge that prevent dented fenders

And stubborn bloodstains on the roads,

The sweaty morning clings onto my skin and sorrow

Weighing with the symbolism of exertion.

Written by: Gaston Ng

Perfection Wasted

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market --
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone.
The memories packed in the rapid-access file.
The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.

Written by: John Updike

I Measure Every Grief I Meet

I measure every grief I meet

With analytic eyes;

I wonder if it weighs like mine,

Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,

Or did it just begin?

I could not tell the date of mine,

It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,

And if they have to try,

And whether, could they choose between,

They would not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled--

Some thousands--on the cause

Of early hurt, if such a lapse

Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still

Through centuries above,

Enlightened to a larger pain

By contrast with the love.

Written by: Emily Dickinson

Time does not bring relief

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go - so with his memory they brim.

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'

And so stand stricken,

so remembering him.

Written by: Edna St Vincent Millay

Roberto

Thank you for the, "yes," your smile always gave me when we met.
Thank you for telling me it was the little things in life like my phone calls that kept you going. Thank you for listening to my sorrows and then giving me encouragement when I needed it. Thank you for seeing the pain behind my smile and giving me comfort.
Thank you for the admiration and respect you gave me.
Thank you for loving me for who I am, and not expecting more or less from me.
Thank you for the many hours you gave me sitting in your garden. Time is precious.
Thank you for your humor and how you kept me laughing.
Thank you for the grace and elegance you added to our every meeting.
Thank you for the high standards and integrity you demanded from yourself and those around you.
Thank you for seeing the best in me and not letting me forget it.
Thank you for the stubborn independence and self reliance that kept you strong and led the way for me.
Thank you for your love of beauty, both the inward and the outward, and how your sharp eye sharpened mine.
Thank you for believing in me and wanting me here, with you.
Thank you for loving me and telling me so.
Thank you for choosing me as friend, sister, family.

Written by: Christine McAuliffe

One would think after having been through this horrifying experience no less than 5 months previous, you would have some sort of mental preparation done to protect yourself. You would think that you wouldn’t hope they would return, knowing that hope and faith can be your bitterest enemies. You would think that the pain wouldn’t feel the same, that it wouldn’t cut in new places and rip your soul apart. You would think that you would be able to find your voice to give the grief its badly wanted need for expression. You would think that you wouldn’t be so numb, shocked, stunned, and ultimately silent.

I sat down today to try to give a voice to my pain. I sat down to attempt to try to get something out of me that I could start to analyze, and make sense of. I sat here and tried to write something eloquent, thoughtful, insightful, and all I could come up with was a blank word document to show for my hours of tears and trying

I want to scream at the top of my lungs and never stop.

I want to run like a lunatic down the street screaming at the top of my lungs.

I want the world to know this kind of devastation.

I want the world to fear this kind of devastation.

I want to hear them all screaming with me as they too suffer this kind of living hell.

I want to be selfish and keep this grief all to myself.

I want to be angry at my friends for leaving me alone.

I want to be angry at the war for taking them from me.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs and never stop.

I want my friends here with me so my screams can turn to laughter.

I want to feel whole again.

I want to wallow in the darkness I am living in.

I want to dance in the light with my friends.

I want to be anywhere but here.

I want to be anyone but me.

I want to scream at the top of my lungs and never stop.

I want to be all these things because all I am is numb.

Written by Me.

I am raw. Angry. Lonely. Bewildered. Ashamed. Frightened. Miserable. Rejected. Proud. Useless. Enraged. Incapable. Defeated…I could go on and on…I am a complete contradiction. Once, I had friends who understood me, now I am left to understand myself and that thought terrifies me. Once, I had friends who knew my soul, now I am left to nurture myself without their loving guidance. Once, I had friends who were like brothers. They were closer to me than any sibling I have. They were my family. They were everything to me. There is not a memory of my life that I have that doesn’t include them in some way. I am scared to create a life without them in it. I cannot imagine my life without them in it. At this moment, I cannot imagine life.

For Children Who Were Broken

For Children Who Were Broken
it is very hard to mend......
Our pain was rarely spoken
and we hid the truth from friends.

Our parents said they loved us,
but they didn't act that way.
They broke our hearts and stole our worth,
with the things that they would say.

We wanted them to love us.
We didn't know what we did
to make them yell at us and hit us,
and wish we weren't their kid.

They'd beat us up and scream at us
and blame us for their lives.
Then they'd hold us close inside their arms
and tell us confusing lies of how they really loved us --
even though we were BAD,
and how it was OUR fault they hit us,
OUR fault that they were mad.

When days were just beginning
we sometimes prayed for them to end,
and when the pain kept coming,
we learned to just pretend
that we were good
and so were they
and this was just one of those days ...
tomorrow we'd be friends.

We had to believe it so.
We had nowhere else to go.

Each day that we pretended,
we replaced reality
with lies, or dreams,
or angry schemes,
in search of dignity ....
until our lies
got bigger than the truth,
and we had no one real to be

Our bodies were forsaken.
With no safe place to hide,
we learned to stop hearing and feeling
what they did to our outsides.

We tried to make them love us,
till we hated ourselves instead,
and couldn't see a way out,
and wished that they were dead.
We scared ourselves by thinking that,
and scared ourselves to know,
that we were acting just like them --
and might ever more be so.

To be half the size of a grown-up
and trapped inside their pain....
To every day lose everything
with no savior or refrain...
To wonder how it is possible
that God could so forget
the worthy child you knew you were,
when you had not been damaged yet ...
To figure on your fingers
that the years till you'd be grown
enough to leave the torment
and survive away from home,
were more than you could count to,
or more than you could bear,
was the reality we lived in
and we knew it wasn't fair.

We who grew up broken
are somewhat out of time,
struggling to mend our childhood,
when our peers are in their prime.
Where others find love and contentment,
we still often have to strive
to remember we are worthy,
and heroes just to be alive.

Some of us are healing.
some are stealing.
Most are passing the anger on.
Some give their lives away to drugs,
or the promise of like beyond.
Some still hide from society.
Some struggle to belong.
But all of us are wishing
the past would not hold on so long.

There's a lot of digging down to do
to find the child within,
to love away the ugly pain
and feel innocence again.
There is forgiveness
worthy of angel's wings
for remembering those at all,
who abused our sacred childhood
and programmed us to fall.
To seek to understand them,
and how their pain became our own,
is to risk the ground we stand on
to climb the mountain home.

The journey is not so lonely
as in the past its been ...
More of us are strong enough
to let the growth begin.
But while we're trekking
up the mountain
we need everything we've got,
to face the adults we have become,
and all that we are not.

So when you see us weary
from the day's internal climb ...
When we find fault
with your best efforts,
or treat imperfection as purposeful crime ...
When you see our quick defenses,
our efforts to control,
our readiness to form a plan of unrealistic goals ...
When we run into a conflict
and fight to the bitter end,
remember ... We think that winning
means we won't be hurt again.

When we abandon OUR thoughts and feelings,
to be what we believe YOU want us to,
or look at trouble we are having,
and want to blame it all on you...
When life calls for new beginnings,
and we fear they re doomed to end, remember...
Wounded trust is like a wounded knee--
It is very hard to bend.
Please remember this when we are out of sorts.
Tell us the truth, and be our friend.
For children who were broken...
it is very hard to mend.

By Elisa Wise

The Earth Died With Thought

My start date for fulltime treatment is May 1st. They upped my dose of citalophram and changed my sleeping pill to a tranquilizer…makes for a great sleep, but I’ve been up since 9 am and I still stoned from the pill the night before, so it’s not that great.

I am trying to get back to a place of emotional stability but every time I find solid footing something else kicks my feet out from under me. Lance is being amazing through all of this. He is keeping me together with his calm easy way of just being. He doesn’t put demands on me and he accepts me good bad and ugly…and lately, it’s been pretty ugly. We had a really good talk last night about RUNNING. I am so busy running FROM everything that’s going on (not that I recognized it as running away…) He stopped me cold with one question. He asked me “Babe, why aren’t you running TO me?” and I completely lost it. It felt so good to just LET GO. I am going to learn how to lean on him (any tips on how to do that would be great) and I am going to learn how to love him as passionately and deeply as he loves me. That’s not to say that I don’t love him, I am just recognizing that he is giving me more than I am giving him and his gentle heart deserves so much more.

I stumbled across this poem, I don’t know who wrote it, but I found it beautiful. It touched on my “Carrying the weight of the world” mood that I am wallowing in.

The Earth Died With Thought

a war makes a beast

of men once with faith

another politician climbs a ladder

and pulls it up without haste

the charities give to power

while the children go to waste

and a leader with pride

joins the munitions race

a child of divorce

feels even less of worth

a sixteen year old mom

gives yet another birth

tax kills a widow who grapples with dearth

cancer continues,

while we're cancer to Earth

industry claims

to help common man

but seem to help only those

who put cash in their hands

a survivalist fights back

and no one understands

a flag burns in the distance

un-united we stand

a prison overcrowds

released are many

but only the ones

who've saved a pretty penny

the innocent cry

only to lose their sanity

unfair is justice

more faith grows empty

is there anything to sacrifice

anything at all

something to erode

this self-mending wall

standing around

we let it grow tall

and listen to the echo

when help is called

the mornings of happiness

end with nights of sorrow

holding on to the hope

that there will be a tomorrow

but as humans rape more

their hearts become hollow

and the earth died with thought

our species just follow