In most homes it conjures up good times, spent over a meal.
But this plate is different as to what
I would feel
Lost in the pattern I rode out my time
carefully staring memorizing every line.
Outside of this process sorrow is spilled and than anger and madness came with the deal.
So sad, since the food offering usually was great, the Cook’s good meaning intention did come hooked with a bait.
And I swallowed each morsel, and I cleaned my plate and I loved and I cared not knowing my fate.
Days and than months turned into years
But alas I didn’t help the one that I feared.
She’s gone now but not the fear she instilled, that goes on and on year after year, and it wasn’t till recently it came clear to my mind
When again this plate came down like a sign,
at an unknowing minute and not in my home it reminded me, that I was alone. I couldn’t eat off it I put it away and shuddered as it led me to think of those days.
A week since that date of that memory filled plate
and I’m still sitting here just lying awake.
She said she would haunt me and I fear it is so , I try hard to let those memories go. I try and conjure up good times, to replace the bad but that just render’s me, so often so sad.
So it’s Time to turn off this writers mind and look for the rest my body must find.
By Meredith J Weir
All rights reserved
How do you quell the pain and the sorrow
when someone unearths your fears of tomorrows.
When they tell you how… you must carry on
when they haven’t a clue what comes with the dawn ?
When they try to entice you to dream and to try,
but they don’t see your checkbook has already died.
When your body stops wanting
And your heart fails to see
A living tomorrow of any degree
When the richness you own is all in the soil
and nothings to show for your life full of toil.
When you aren’t who you were and your not who you are
when all memories can do is conjure up scars.
And there’s nothing to pass on, nor some one to give
When your dog is the one for whom you will live.
But you can’t find a Dr to claim it is so
so you stay at home more cause you don’t want to go.
When being with people begins to feel stange, but you know that your dog understands all your pain.
When writing it down brings sorrow to friends,
they don’t understand why you- pick up this pen.
But for you it’s a vent, a place you can breathe, it gives air to the chest that struggles to rise, and form to the feelings that are locked up inside.
A writer,a poet, composer, and friend who tried hard to help and tried hard to mend the rips and the tears in her life here on Earth,
and struggles so hard to see her own worth !
Fear not my dear friends I’ll be here tomorrow in spite of the sadness I see in the night,
I believe in our Lord which alone brings me sight.
I don’t get it, this earth thing we,all must endure
but believing in Jesus- my heaven’s secure !
And maybe just maybe my journal in pain
will help another who reads and exclaims,
she gets it, she knows me I am not alone and for that reason my craft I’ll continue to hone,
So please do not worry as I capture the night it may not be for you that I sit up and write.
It may be my gift is to captured in ink what so many souls already think
To leave them a night song to bring them to sight to help a dear soul come through to the light.
By meredith J Weir
All rights reserved