Writing Poems and Hanging on to Memories

Wednesday, April 3, 2013



I was going through some of my DV poems today and I was thinking about how writing each one of them had left me feeling  how the brokenness I was feeling was being healed more with every word I type ...While I was looking I found one that was not about domestic violence and I decided to share it with you today  I have 3 sons and each one is so special to me....I can't remember a lot of their childhood because of the abuse but I do remember the following and I will hold it in my heart and mind and cherish these memories forever
 
 
Memories
I took a walk today back through my garden of memories
I found some were locked away and buried so deep inside of me
So I closed my eyes and thought so hard of all those days gone by
And as each one came flooding back  some would make me cry

 The first time I held my 3 sons when they came into this world
The pain inside I felt the day I lost my precious baby girl
The joy of watching the first smiles my sons would smile so sweet
Those are the precious memories that I always want to keep

When I would hold them in my arms and sing them fast asleep
And  count all their little fingers and each toe upon their feet
The pride I felt the day they tried to walk and oh they stumbled so
But to get back up and arms outstretched toward me they would go

The days of digging worms and fishing would all came back to me
Taking fish off their hooks and tossing each one back into the sea
Playing cowboy games and water fights as the sun began to set
All those things I done with them please God don't ever let me  forget

The sadness I felt in my heart the day each one would leave their home
It was so hard to see them leave and start life on their own
But today as I walk back through my garden of sweet memories
I bowed my head and thanked my God for sharing them with me
 

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“But is it such a bad thing to live like this for just a little while? Just for a few months of one's life, is it so awful to travel through time with no greater ambition than to find the next lovely meal? Or to learn how to speak a language for no higher purpose than that it pleases your ear to hear it? Or to nap in a garden, in a patch of sunlight, in the middle of the day, right next to your favourite fountain? And then to do it again the next day?”
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

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