They came so slowly, hesitantly, almost without notice they crept into my life..my world. They came with questions, darkness, doubts and finally light.

Now I give you you my words…..

QUESTIONS?

Dirty Windows

Looking in my eyes
what do you see?
My eyes, they are
the windows of me.

Do you see an ugly
messed up view?
through dirt and mire
a gaze from you?

What do you see
behind my eyes?
Do you see
my soul that cries?

Insecurities,
pain and doubt;
Do I dare let you in?
Should I keep you out?

Closing my eyes,
I’m scared.
Would you leave
if the view I shared?

How can you love
me so?
I see so little to love,
so why don’t you go?

Why do you smile
as you gaze so deep?
Whispering the words
“With you I want to keep.”

Do you see something
I don’t see in me?
Is there a beauty hidden
that wants to be free?

Wash my windows
with your love and tears.
Then maybe my gaze
will finally become clear

and I will understand
what beauty is in me
that you love.

©BAR
11/08/97

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Transcending

Take my hand and help me scale
The pillars of pain of my life
Transcending the myths of myself
That have brought to me much strife

Extract me from the murk and mire
That has enveloped my being so long
Rising above the tears of self hate
Permitting the privilege to be strong

May I realize the failures aren’t mine
But bestowed by those of insecure mind
A need to pull to their level of self worth
The lowest level this earth can find

Guide me to the full essence of joy
Dispel the fog enshrouding my being
Seeing with clarity the gifts given to me
Showing me that my life has meaning

Help me draw out the beauty in me
A shield of strength against their croons
May I look on them with sadness not hate
For they will someday be truly alone

©BAR
2/1/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Go Forth With Confidence

“Go forth into the night with confidence”

C o n f i d e n c e ?

I look at you
–with a questioning eye.
An uttered word
–almost foreign to this mind.
Vaguely familiar
–but its essence I can’t find.
Has it been pulverized
–by cruelty over time?

Was it once part of me
–from days lost in the dark?
Was it stripped from me
–by jeers that left their mark?
Was I left defenseless
–as a tree without bark?
Was it bestowed upon me
–then extracted as a lark?

How do I go forth
–in the dark without a light?
How do I find strength
–when inside I’m scared to fight?
How do I re-build self worth
–that was scorned to flight?
How do I rejuvenate confidence
–and step into the night?

©BAR
1/17/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DARKNESS

As my words began to flow into a steady stream they dragged along debris; dirt, pebbles, mud. They gave birth to a darkness I didn’t expect. They pulled along with them all of that pain that I had buried away.

My poetry came at a pace that took me by surprise. Words flowed daily but they were not fresh, beautiful words. They were filled with pain, blackness, hate, tears. In many ways they scared me. I had never looked at myself as a “dark soul” but that was very much what my heart gave birth to.

Looming

Your kindness, shadowed
by the catacombs of my demons past

Parched by fires,
their lone goal, decimation fast

Taunting words,
and my inner essence clash

Hands tremble,
as I fumble for my mask

Words spiked with pain,
in fright drift out

Your acceptance of me,
I’ve been cultivated to doubt

My inner affliction clamors,
filled with screams and shouts

Demons scramble,
an aura of calm is quickly doused

Don’t get too close
My spirit trembles, quivering in fear

Don’t probe too deep
For my reality to be clear

Don’t gaze too intently
Feelings of disgust will draw near

Don’t listen too close
Or my demons you will hear

©BAR
8/27/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reality’s Ways

The slap in my face is caustic
a raspy gasp attempts to fill my lungs

Any air is impelled from my existence
as the reality of my life smothers me

Darkness overbears any light
looming, threatening my sanity

Placing a straight jacket around me
for the times I dared to dream

I walk but I cover no ground
a chain is clamped around my leg

I’m stuck in a bog of quick sand
and I search for a life-line to seize

My fingers grope for a steadfast grasp
as remnants of dream’s sand slip away

Looking upward to the heavens in pain
a groan of languish permeates the air

~*~

God, what are you trying to show me in life?

Why must my dreams slip away?

Where is the cloud with silver lining?

Why must ‘struggle’ guide my life each day?

I’m so weary of slipping and falling.

I can’t seem to find a place of steady ground.

I caught a glimpse of the rainbow through the clouds…
but now I’m struggling to find the sun…

©BAR
6/26/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hide-N-Seek

Within my demons’ hysteria
they played ‘Hide-N-Seek’
in my mind;

Peering out from distant corners,
jeering, “You can seek me but
you’ll never find.”

Nomadic, haphazard wanderings
have caused me to journey along
a serpentine path;

Through gnarled undergrowth
and thistles, that seize my legs
as I pass.

I’m haunted by sneers and whispers.
Their frenzied laughter encompassing
the essence of me.

My hands frantic, to my ears,
clawing, as demon taunts, bring
me to my knees.

My head upon the earthen ground
as the broken child within me
mournfully wails.

Lying listless, beaten and bruised,
left to die, until a light pierced
the darkness of the trail.

©BAR
10/1/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haunting

An erroneous shadow
emanating distorted
reflections of death,
illusively penetrated
my peaceful night.

Taunting with vague
perceptions of doom,
painfully inseminated
until in total agony
I screamed in fright.

Frantic for an escape,
from taunts and fear,
I hysterically clawed
in the darkness for
my conscious mind.

Until in exhaustion
I awakened, gasping
for air, only to find
remnants of a pungent
perfume left behind.

©BAR
11/06/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Center Stage

I have entered an arena
sated with an aura,
which speaks of a vile evil,
that hideously prowls
the sanctums of souls;

Filled with the stench
of odorous excrement,
by-products of feasting
that now ooze from life’s
inner walls;

Feasting of trust, love,
self worth and confidence,
ravenously devoured by
gnashing teeth;
only to leave crumbs of fear
scattered on life’s plate.

I have drawn back a heavy shroud,
masking the arena’s center stage,
revealing beady eyed demons,
slithering with forked tongues
flicked in my face.

Their ecstasy,
the exhumation of death;
resurrection of stagnation,
their ultimate goal;
forced to play in an endless drama,
scripted to distract
from a child’s cries
from tombs unknown.

©BAR
03/03/99

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gallows

I cupped within a trembling hand,
the reality of a dream,
that sacrifices obtained.

A road traveled…not in a safe way.
The goal a dream, that lived with me,
for most of my days.

Looking upon its reality, I shivered.
Reaching in, a core of sadness,
still brushed my hand.

Outside a garment of contentment,
inside, tumult reigned…
The expense of the reality.

Confusion tumbled around me.
The world had convinced me,
happiness was on the other side.

The reality, something my life depended on
but I traveled the wrong road,
to grasp and make it mine.

So with a cry of anguish,
I looked upon the reality
and with a quivering hand, it slipped away.

Now many times the world has
convinced me, that to save my life
the dream MUST become real.

And I have set my foot
upon many roads, only to slip
as the dream was so close at hand.

Feeling like a fool…a failure.
Why can’t I find a road
I can travel, feeling at peace?

Is it me or the roads that I’ve traveled?
Is it sheer stupidity or fear,
that causes me to release?

Looking up at the gallows of my life,
the world’s whispers echo in my mind,
“You’re going to die…”

©BAR
7/20/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sacrificial Lamb

She stood lifeless by a stone structure
where a stench of decayed skin adhered.
The flesh was to have been the sacrifice
for redemption of her body’s sins.
Each layer had been raw, blood dripping;
repulsive, though familiar to her touch,
as she had stretched each into submission
like a hunter racks his pelts.

She had reached for a source of ignition,
a way to sear morbidity for eternity.
Her offering , spiked and ransomed,
to stand for her in iniquity’s place.

But as she struck the blaze she faltered,
paralyzed by the face of the flame.

©BAR
08/10/99

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Destruction

Muffled
sounds of sorrow,
dissected
from roots of pain,
slain
by tormentors of courage,
instigators
of fear’s refrain.

Grafted
mistrust and panic,
ripened
to insecurity and doubt,
apprehensive
beatings and trembling,
shrouded
the voice that longed to cry out.

Languish
buried in a heartbeat,
stifled
teardrop songs, hung still,
dangling
from fear’s gallows;
destruction
of courage and will.

©BAR
02/15/99

My eyes still fill with tears at the memory…the pain and confusion I saw in my daughter’s eyes as I told her about Annie. I had no words of comfort. All I could do was hold her and weep with her. I spent the entire night with her in my arms as my mind frantically searched for a way…to make it OK. I felt so helpless, frustrated and confused. All my heart could do was to echo her question, “why?”….

I never was able to find the spoken words but out of that pain came words. I was never one to write poetry but I was compelled to write. It was an unexpected gift that I felt God gave me that day. I released my pain about Annie’s death in words only to discover it was to be a life line for me.

Poetry….the written word…it so gently and lovingly nudged its way into my life. It drew me in and compelled me to write, to look deep within myself to another child in tears asking “why?”

I’m In Need Of A Friend

A long deep sigh slips from my lips.
Shaking my head I try to clear the
heaviness that presses in.

Looking at the clock I have no idea
how long I have sat gazing in the
emptiness of this page.

All I know is the familiar sense
of being unremittingly alone.

loneleness….

My only comfort
My only friend
My only memory

I tremble,
as I hear whispers within.

Nudging from an unknown entity
deep inside.

And from somewhere deep within myself,
underneath where my loneleness dwells,
a tentative whisper reaches my inner ear.

“My name is ‘Happiness’ and I have lived
beneath your loneleness for all your life.
Please, hear my call. I’m in need of a friend.”

©BAR
8/2/98

I married a wonderful man who has been there for me no matter what my weight has been. With the birth of three wonderful daughters and a job I loved my life fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Sleeping Innocence

Beside me you rest wrapped in innocence
Lips pursed, a rose bud waiting to flower
Your gold ringlets emit a child’s incense
Cheeks glowing the cast of the sunset hour

My eyes close, I whisper a little prayer
Raven lashes flutter gently in sleep
Angels gather to watch from heaven’s stair
Your breaths cadence becomes steady and deep

Dream weaver weave ethereal dreams tonight
A rich tapestry abundant with tales
Of fairies and whimsical elves, delight
As you travel along enchanted trails

Your face glistens with traces of love’s dew
Celestial blessings are bestowed on you

©BAR
2000

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Journey Of Dreams

Draped in hues of linen
Ribbed with satin’s sheen
A halo for heaven’s angel
Journeying to her dreams

Tiny fingers interlace
Soft honey dewed curls
Wispy breaths billow sails
To take her to another world

Encircled in steadfast arms
Nestling a beating heart
Departing on a cloud ship
But in love, never truly apart

©BAR

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night’s Blessing

Watching your lids
slowly slip, eclipsing
the blue full moon
of your eyes,
births a smile~

While a soft kiss
whisks you away,
on breaths of sleep,
to the land of dreams~

~*~

Sweet dreams,
my little one.

I Love You….

©BAR
12/3/98

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Little One

Your tight hugs
My little one-
Your ‘I love you’
In my ear

Your bright smiles
My little one-
Your kisses
Hands in my hair

Do you know
My little one-?
You have helped
bring me through

I’m so blessed
my little one-
I want you to know
I Love You.

©BAR
10/1/97

I remained focused on what I had but turned a blind eye to my health and my ever increasing weight. I honestly think I was afraid to look at my reality. I was afraid at what I might see if I dug deep enough to unearth my inner fears and pain.

Just Another Day

Day’s fabric swaddles me,
I shelter in its folds,
comforted by warm, red rays
of the rising, setting sun.
My eyes fixed on the present;
secure in what is known,
too fearful to look away

(c) Jan. 2002
Beth A. Rogers

My relationship with my Mother grew steadily distant though we saw each other often. With the death of my Father at a fairly young age my Mother turned to my daughters to fill her loneliness and void.

All of her life the center of her existence was her husband and her children. Now living in an empty house she clung to my daughters. Once again I struggled with the need to “fix” to make things okay. I loved my Mother deeply so I found myself stepping back, burying my feelings and allowing her at times, to parent my children.

Looking back now I know so much of it was wrapped up in my own self esteem. I often felt that it was my fault when the lives of those around me were filled with pain, tension and turmoil. And if it wasn’t my fault it was most certainly my fault that I couldn’t make their lives better. My life was totally wrapped up in giving of myself for others to the point that in a way I lost my identity.

The Fault Line

When the world within my boundaries
begins to rumble, quiver and shake

And a seismic disturbance
threatens peaceful ways, to break

Frantically searching for an answer
to ease the tension it makes

I delve into myself looking
for the fault line—

I burrow and dig deep inside
way to my very core

Searching myself for the epicenter
analyzing actions, words and more

Questioning if it’s my faults
causing the shaking of your floor

I scrutinize, analyze
for the fault line—

Why do I take upon myself
the cause of your failures and pains?

Why do I need to lessen your tension
by taking upon myself, your blame?

Why do I think so little of myself
that I’m willing to wear your shame?

What will I ever gain by taking claim
for the fault line—

It’s time to love myself enough
to not take on your insecurities

It’s time to be strong enough that
your words don’t send me to my knees

It’s time to recognize what’s within me
and know your failures aren’t mine to seize

And realize not to always look to myself
for the fault line—

©BAR
2/3/98

As I felt further and further out of control of my own life I continued to turn to food to bury all that I was feeling. As my weight increased the distance increased between me and my Mother until it came to a point that she would no longer touch or hold me. We spent most of our time in superficial conversations tip-toeing around the chasm that was growing deeper and deeper between us.

From A Non-Entity

Beside you I feel as a cast out stranger
Not as the child of who you gave birth
I watch you in silence as you ignore me
Treating me as a person with little worth

When your gaze looks upon my being
All I see is total disgust in your eyes
If you brush against me or I embrace you
There is an aversion you just can’t disguise

What have I done to receive your judgment?
You, who others praise , has a golden heart
Explain to me, please, how this shows you love me
Where in concern does revulsion take a part?

~

As a child my life was filled with loneliness
Trying to ignore laughs and jeers behind hands
Sitting alone upon the school steps, hiding
Feeling there was no one who could understand

I searched for something I could excel in
That which would bring me into the crowd
The one thing I could claim as my own
Something that would make you proud

But when I discovered within, that treasure
The praise was so limited, I didn’t understand
My flaws and looks were the focus of discussion
For you see a fat child was never part of your plan

~

Now as an adult, I’m still treated as that child
You still are trying to control and change me
All buried in the pretense of love and caring
But the driving power of guilt, is what I see

I don’t need your guilt placed upon me
Believe me, I have enough of my own
Constantly feeling I am a total failure
For once let me be in control!

Don’t go behind my back using my family
Trying to shed your guilt by changing who I am
I am who I am, but for you that isn’t good enough
Because I don’t fit into your perfect plan

~

Because I’m overweight do you think I don’t feel?
Do you think the layers have caused me to go numb?
My self esteem has been pulverized and strangled
I don’t need to be treated like I’m dumb!

The world looks upon me in total disgust
Laughing and snickering…I pretend I don’t hear
After all fat people are scum…a non-entity
So why should anyone, even you, really care

I’m told by all around to ‘Just change it’
But it is hard to change, if I have no worth
I don’t expect the world to solve my problems
But being treated as a human being sure wouldn’t hurt

(c)Beth A. Rogers

An angel silently sits close,
to a child filled with hope.
A hand upon a tousled head,
its wings a protective cloak.

Crystalline tears overflow its eyes;
the child is passed without a glance.
Ostracized. Differentiated.
Condemned without a chance.

Deplorable, despicable entity,
scum of the earth to the world’s eyes.
The child’s care-free innocent years,
give birth to tears that will never dry.
~
Oh, child of my heart I know,
the pain you now hold inside.
I wish I could whisper it away,
and in peace you’ll forever abide.

But that is not the ways of this world,
many fear those different from them.
Just know you’re wrapped in a special love,
forever bestowed the strength to mend.

You will be blessed with rare understanding,
a gentle heart that is perpetually wise.
An ability to look past the physical,
seeing deeply what hides behind eyes.

A sensitivity to those who are hurting,
within their victories you will sing.
And within this pain that now is engraved,
you’ll be protected forever in my wings.

©BAR 09/17/98

Eva is only 4′9″ and within a community and a school where most of the children were of the tall Dutch decent she was often teased. Life has not always been very easy for her and my Mother struggled with feelings of guilt for giving birth to a child with defects.

I never knew of my Mother’s struggle. She never wore her feelings on her sleeve but it effected the way she treated me. Over the years, in the midst of one of our many arguments regarding my weight it all came out. For me it was like a bright light had been shown into the dark corners of our relationship.

That day my Mother had asked me what she could do to help me lose the weight. I simply said to her…praise. I explained that I had grown up looking and seeking her praise but it was so limited and I didn’t understand. I told her that I had so often felt that I was a failure and that I rarely made her happy. With tears in her eyes she yelled, “But I feel so guilty about your sister!”

You see she was always afraid to give me much praise because it would take away from Eva. She felt that my sister struggled so much and that she was the one who was in greater need of praise…she was so afraid that I would “out-shine” her.

At that moment there suddenly was clarity…clarity to it all. I FINALLY understood why often there was so little encouragement from a Mother who showered encouragement on my sister. I gained understanding but along with that understanding came anger and hurt. I had spent years being teased in school, years of my Mother lecturing me about my weight. I spent years with only a small smattering of friends of feeling so alone.

Looking back now I think my Mother was filled with anger when it came to my weight. She saw my sister hurting due to a condition that she couldn’t change but my obesity was something I could change and she just didn’t understand. She frequently brought me to doctors hoping they would sit me down and tell me I had to lose weight. She brought me to Weight Watchers at the age of 15 only to argue with them that their goal weight was too high. She would say to me so often, “You would be so pretty if you would just lose weight.” Or “You’ll never get married. Don’t you want to get married and have children?” She appeared to become almost obsessed with my weight and tried to control every aspect of my life…how I dressed, how I wore my hair. I wonder sometimes if she felt that if she could have greater control over me she could stop me from turning to food. Instead I turned to food…to rebel…to feel as if I was in control over at least one aspect of my life. I turned to that food as those words…those tapes…played over and over again in my head.

As a young teenager those words were devastating to me. They stayed with me for years, all the way into my adulthood. I had convinced myself that I wasn’t pretty, that I wasn’t good enough, that I would never be desired or loved by a man…that I would never have worth.

I buried that child in layers and layers of skin hoping and praying that I could just fill the void…

Shadowed Child

I am a child of shadows
afraid to touch the light.
My domicile’s darkness,
day eclipsed to night.

Veiled in ambiguity
by walls, cliffs and trees.
Enfolded in dark forms,
tucked with bent knees.

I sit with opened hands
palmed to spirits of the day
and beckon them to join
in shadowed secure play.

The soft luster of daybreak
teases vulnerable walls,
crumbling from intensity
of haunting demon calls.

I tremble, as long fingers
reach from the other side.
Beneath a phantom’s cloak
I burrow deep and hide.

©BAR
01/26/99

Extraction

A hand reaches
deep within

Trembling fingers
permeate my mind

Knowing not
what they will touch

Or what will
be grasped over time

Memories extracted
from dark inner walls

Pulling…

mockery
snickering
taunting
jeering
words
pain
tears

Leaving…

A lonely child
afraid.

Trying to hide
from the eyes

©BAR 10/26/97

I was born on July 2, 1956 in the city that I still live today. I was the third child; the baby. Essentially my family was a good family. I had parents that truly did love me, who really had only my best interest at heart. I was raised with a strong belief in God and grew up in what many would label, ‘a sheltered life’.

Looking back I often wonder where it went so wrong? I had the security and love many only dreamed of having. I had an intact two-parent family who would do anything for their children. I had a Mother who believed the reason for her existence was her family. So why at the age of eight was my weight soaring? Why so often did I struggle with acceptance and confidence in myself? Why was there always such a fear of failure?

People have asked me, “What happened that you put on so much weight?” Even my Mother has asked me, “Were you raped as a child and I never knew it?” Those questions bloomed into frustration, confusion, doubt. I still find myself at times searching for that answer, trying to still make some sense of it all.

The Search

Looking back now, I am slowly beginning to understand that child. I am learning to appreciate and understand the stepping stones that have brought me to where I am today.

I have come to know a child. She was a shy, tender, sensitive child, woven with a thread of tenderness, a passion to relieve other’s pain. The pain of others would weave it’s fingers around the edges of her mind and hold her in a grasp that wouldn’t let go.

When I was seven years old my Grandfather was diagnosed with Kidney Cancer. It was the first time in my life where I was exposed to the struggles of this disease. I watched my Father wrestle with his Father’s impending death. I remember those days of struggle and questions. The lack of my understanding and the pressing need to know ‘why?’

When my Grandfather died I remember my Father’s tears so clearly. It is the one stark memory that stands out, even to this day. You know that memory still hurts and even all these years later it still weaves an uneasiness deep within my heart and soul. I cried so hard at the funeral. So hard that my Mother almost took me out of the church. It wasn’t so much the death of my Grandpa that brought me such deep sadness….it was my Father’s tears and the inability to make things “okay.”

I recognize that now as one of the turning points. The inability to express what I was feeling. The strong desire to take away my Father’s pain. I had few friends and I had no idea where to turn for comfort so I reached for food.

As I gained weight a wedge was beginning to be driven between me and my Mother. She struggled with her own feelings of guilt regarding my increasing weight. My weight became the center of our discussions and it over shadowed our relationship. Even though I know my Mother loved me I felt such a distance and so often it felt as if I was losing my Mother’s love.

Remnants

A child sits buried,
in the shadow of a school’s wall.
Her eyes veiled in dimness,
as her fingers trace
a rough concrete step.

The coldness of the concrete
sends shivers down her delicate spine,
jarring her to a momentary awareness,
of distant children at play.

Clad in remnants of a mother’s guilt,
for the birth of an older child,
whose physical form spoke of ‘difference’
in this often cruel world.

Left alone to develop her own strength,
on the playgrounds in her mind,
as confusion, taunted and jeered,
from its position as ‘King of the Hill.’

She frantically searches for an answer,
to why praises to her are so few,
when streaming rays of warm praises,
on the other so abundantly did shine.

Her mind racked with tormenting pain,
not understanding what she had done.
Wondering where had she failed
and what could she do to make things right?

Tears that gather below the surface,
are frozen by the penetrating cold,
and tightly packed around her heart
in an attempt to numb the pain.

Hungry for a mother’s loving touch,
a tight embrace to bring her warmth,
she wraps her frailties in layers of skin,
as she searches for answers to why

she lost her mother’s unconditional love.

©BAR 10/13/98

I immerse quelled fingers to dabble
in the reservoir of my mind,
deep within the richest ink,
the blackest I can find.
Allured by security of darkness,
away from the starkness of reality.
Where I find my soul
in the blackest tracings,
on the whitest page.

©BAR 01/21/99

I come to this place with a deep sense of anticipation but also some uncertainty. I have been encouraged to write and share my words. These are words of my life, my journey. It is the journey that I have taken to find and discover the reality of LIFE.

On January 30, 2008, I celebrated an anniversary. It was the two-year anniversary of the day my life and story changed. I rolled threw the doors of an OR suite. I was to under go Roux-En-Y Gastric Bypass surgery. I never truly anticipated how much this surgery would change not only my physical body but also a very vital layer of who I am.

That day was the start of my journey to health and a life I never truly knew but the months and years of preparation are also so much a part of my story. It is the story of who I was, who I have grown to be but also, most importantly, it is the story of life and love.

““““““““““““““““““““““““

Over the years I have learned the importance of words. Words of discovery, searching, pain, joy, blackness, confidence, hate, love. They were words of life. I drew upon them to find a friend, to listen to a child, to feel and taste the tears. Through those words I learned to love myself and to forgive.

Over time I packed up those words and I filed them away until now. With the nudging from a dear soul, I have now come back to a place of words.

I feel drawn to these words, my need to simply write. They feel like an old friend, someone I haven’t seen, touched or hugged in a very long time. They whisper to me….”just believe” and with tears I return…and I believe.

…the written word…it welcomes this changed person…home

Unveiled

A naked form sits in obscurity
at the root of a willow tree.
Veiled behind slivered leaves
bathed in hues of yellow-green.
Postured in a child’s fragility;
arms wrapped around knees.
Encircled by angel tears
and murmurs to just believe.

©BAR 11/16/98