Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

Don’t Forget Those Days

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grey skies magnify
travellers multiply
rows of soldiers pass on by
grey clouds in the sky

no traffic lights
deters their flight
grey clouds at night

don’t lie
walk a straight line
linger not behind
grey clouds in the sky

travel with great ease
over lands and seas
never bend at your knees
spirits touch the chimes that sing
pulling each and every string
Sing
Cry
Never ever lie
clouds don’t die
grey clouds in the sky
never ever lie

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‘my letter to a mom.’

Waiting is a very hard thing to do. You are torn, ripped apart like a wet piece of paper. You want it over. You can’t do another day.  You can’t say your peace one more time. Your tired. You have no energy left.
Then the eyes open  and you see all the love that still grows. All the love that is still alive! You want nothing more then to stretch every second. To see it become transparent till it becomes the sky the air.  There is no saying goodby. For death is final. Death puts the period at the end of a sentence. Death is the final word. Death goes where we can’t. Death is the ticket you get when you win or your number is up. I don’t know if its good or bad. I do know that I chose to believe its a reward. How can it be anything but. Life is not easy. Life is complicated. Life is hard. Life is lonely. Life is given. What we do with it comes to circumstances. Are we smart? Are we lucky? Are we fools?

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Death and waiting for it makes you question everything. Don’t let all those days questioning fade as the days continue. After you have caught up on your sleep. After all the paperwork is done. After you have cleared all the closets. Don’t forget those days.

They are meant to change you. To give you a reprieve. Don’t slide back into being a blob that works to pay for a life you really don’t want. Don’t forget those days.

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Author: ilovecloudstoo

I live in Canada thought I was not born here. Newfoundland is where my heart breathes. Primarily I am a visual artist, welded and or cast bronze sculptures. Sylvia Plath may have been the seed planted in me that is creating poetry. Since then I have read so many great modern poets work. Art is my sustaining business poetry sustains my soul.

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