When you are broken
And it feels like a thousand pieces
Have been broken in your heart
Know that God is with you
And has been from the start
When you loose some one
The Lord mends our broken heart
God brings comfort and peace and joy
23 hours after loosing a loved one
God blessed me with a baby boy
Not to replace tgem but to bring
Comfort
will always miss our loved ones
No matter how much time
Passes by
But God never will forsake us
He is there every step of the way
Never leaving us alone
No matter how long it takes to heal
He understands just how we feel. AMEN
30 years ago my son was born
30 years ago my father died.
God heals Amen
A song I like is titled
Broken vessels by hillsong
Pandemonium inside my own head
Disorder and chaos leave me for dead
My brain feels like mush and my legs feel like lead
My heart is too heavy so I cry out instead
An inmate at the mercy of the devil’s old throne
I’m a prisoner trapped in a storm of my own
A cancer of the mind that I can feel in my bones
It’s the worst kind of feeling that I’ve ever known
My soul is exhausted but my mind will not rest
Reaching for air but stones fill up my chest
A hurricane of noise from the east to the west
Have I been forsaken or is this just a test?
Trying to ground myself like an unrooted tree
Swimming in a current, I’ve been swept out to sea
Fighting an endless war where the enemy is me
I pray we stop fighting..
Will the darkness set me free?
As he stands with his head high, his heart sighs,
His heavy heart weighs down his soul,
Tears fall silently, the fallen drag his weary eyes red,
A helmet worn to hide a man’s burdens,
A man stands there, but not a man at all.
Among the crowd, a woman catches his eye,
Her skin pure white, her gaze better than the stars,
His eyes meet hers, but words he dares not speak,
For she is royalty, and he, a servant meek.
Yet his eyes began to shine, forbidden light within,
He stands in shadows, sword ready to begin,
The blade thirsts, ever parched for its fight,
For his duty is clear: to guard through day and night.
Once upon a time there was a forsaken mailbox
that sat with its hood open
waiting for the infamous letter number two
The hours, days, weeks and months went by
where the mailman would deliver junk mail
but no letter number two
The mailbox shed tears as its sides grew rust
the neighbors mailboxes would jingle in laughter
as there was no letter number two
Then one day the mailman came with a smile
he opened up the forsaken mailbox
and gently placed in letter number two
The cities letter parade was ecstatic
everyone knew of the delivery
the house owner would read letter number two
With that the mailbox was no longer forsaken
by yet it would sit there in earnest
waiting for letter number three
Looking at the miracle
is the sound of something lyrical.
Holding fast and listening still
to the sound of nature’s will.
The frame is full of written sights
that forever speak of blight.
You listen close and are certain still
that your opinion is always right.
I wish that I had a river filled
with all the sanctimonious trill
one swallows like a bitter pill
like nothing that a conscience kills.
So, look to your rumors now
while the oars fill the prow
and find the gold upon the mound
of the once forsaken crown.
It dies on the vine,
like crops that rot in Hope’s field,
an unreaped harvest.
Blue were my days and nights
when you would check on me,
with late-night conversations
and your playful words about meetings
Is it the days that I miss, or
is it you whom I long for?
This affair was forsaken from the beginning
My God, my God why have you forsaken me?
Lord with your hands
You created me
Placed love in my soul
And beauty in my heart
I come to you today
Shattered into a million pieces
Filled with fear and pain
Where is the road back to you?
I wait for your voice to guide me
And find only silence in answer
To my cry for help
My Lord my Lord why have you abandoned me
In my hour of need
The darkness grows around me
Even the stars hide their faces
Are you there Lord?
Can you hear me?
I am a small part of your universe
Did you forget me?
The wind rises
Here I am a voice whispers
Here I am
I turn and see him
A man sitting on a park bench
Smiling as if he knows a secret
I have heard your cry he tells me
Here I am, what can I do for you?
On that night when all seemed lost
I sat on a park bench with the Lord
Creator of the universe
And knew I was someone’s beloved
He came to me as a smiling man
To tell me I was his treasured child
All was as it should be
All would be well
Locked behind the gate, a jewel lies hidden.
The wind emits a mutter of love smitten.
A shadow plays a game of hide and seek,
With a tantalizing prod, and a sneak peek
That glints a sparkle from par buried gem.
Amidst the interplay of black and white, lies the mayhem,
Of a memento of love lost, jewel lost, diadem forsaken.
My spirit,
Incinerated.
Its ashes
Descend back into
That dark crater:
That inky opaque abyss,
Where the slightest din
Is swallowed,
Where that one fragment of light is asphyxiated,
Held down,
Stripped and raped from its alluring, golden iridescence.
It drowned in its own tears
And then scattered across its own grave.
They turn their backs
With apathy entrenched into their depths:
The reason for my oblivion
Hello? Can you hear me?
I feel like I’ve been shouting my sorrows at nothing at all
Are you ignoring me? Are you even real?
Why have you forsaken me?
I say it while I shake an angry fist at the sky
I sob it desperately in the darkest of nights
Why have you gone and left me to my own devices?
Why have you forsaken me?
You try to tell me, “I am here! Sweet child, I never left!
If only you would look to me, lean on me!”
But the plea falls on deaf ears, always does
I turn my head to you and my eyes are blind
Your outstretched hand that cradles my cheek
Is not felt by my atrophied skin, cold and numb
Because who could ever salvage this body of broken bones?
Who could ever love this vessel of a dead soul?
Until the satire makes you happy,
Until the exhaustion seems glossy,
You need to prove it somehow,
That you are not unknown anymore now!
Until the feelings hit hard on your chest,
Until a stranger can hold your waist,
Until an unknown can call you by your surname,
Until you play something that does not look like a game;
Until you are jealous of some stranger,
Until you know that you are a pretender,
Until you kill someone with their attitude,
You and I are friends with undeniable aptitude;
Both you and I are dazzling and chilling like spring,
With eyes that gleam and minds that softly sing.
Those sweetest words gazing upon the skyline,
A promise made in silence - "Your heart is forever mine."
Both of us are now waiting to meet in the sublime,
Our fate is a mysterious, yet forsaken paradigm.
You smile more and be happy when I am around,
Draw your kiss on my forehead until we are unbound.
Protected from contacts and content as well
You lost interest in me completely
To my “why?” you sent silence, so its nothing to tell
I was buried alive rather neatly
You probably question yourself how on earth
We came across, two lonely souls
But how could you know that its nothing I worth
And I couldn’t foresee the blocked calls
I was trying to help, and I tried not to bore
But it looks I was little too much
It went till you couldn’t explain what’s it for
And why you should be in close touch
But there was an amount of bright moments, I know
I can vividly see some of them
They are saved in the memory garden I grow
I take care about every stem
And the wonderful letters we wrote, I remember
Yours were giving me chills, oh my love
Overwhelmed with our nights in the sweetest surrender
Weren’t we taken away high above?
I firmly believe that you have your own reason
But our letters, forsaken in archives debris
Will they disappear, like leaves that go withered?
You pack those to bin under your apple tree.
I’m lost in a field of forsaken flowers,
counting crestfallen stars…
and as the lavender moon ascends
to rinse away cold kohl tears~
I call your name in soft cadence,
pondering, will you ever hear me?
Our home was lit with autumn's spicy scent.
Now spent are the forms that had something to hold:
votive molds, photo frames, vases.... forsaken.
The form within my breast, too, is forsaken,
no longer pressed against your Old Spice scent.
Once, we had each other to hold....
Now memories are the substance we hold.
Your sloughed skin dust is not yet forsaken;
a whiff remains of seasonal clove scent....
Forsaken spiderwebs hold your signature scent.
10-20-23
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