Lord, it hurts,
Really hurts
To see Thomas
In a wheelchair,
He’s just eight
And fate
Is claiming
A victim –
Has taken
His mobility
Already.
Time.
Lord, I’m begging for more,
Leave the door
Open a while longer
Let him walk, and run
Climb, have fun,
Be the child he should be,
Indefinitely.
(c) wordz2Go Mar 2018
Lyn age 6 holding me at my christening
I’d love to ring,
Just to sing:
“Happy Birthday!”
And hear you say everything’s OK.
But phones don’t work
From earth to heaven,
So I’ll raise a glass,
Blink back the tears,
And say “cheers”
Instead.
You’re in your world
And we’re in ours,
The lives we live
Are different now
But somehow
Connected.
I’ll have a G ‘n T
And remember
Drunken cooking
In L’Orangerie
Indelicately
Squiffy.
Enjoy your day in every way,
“Happy Birthday!” Sis –
I’ll still sing,
But I can’t ring.
Much love, Ang XX
(c) wordz2Go Feb 2018
My sister would have been 63 on 26th February
Every family has one, mine is my Aunty Joan: 95 years young
A keeper of stories –
Old enough to know,
With answers to share
And secrets to keep,
Who, in-between sleep,
May divulge a tale or two
Of times gone by.
The keeper dips into
The well of family lore
To bring forth a story
At the end of the rope,
Spinning rainbows of hope
Between the clouds
On a rainy day.
The stories are old,
All heard before,
Every word is known,
They’re a joy to hear,
A treat for the ear,
Building memories
To pass on.
Our lives are richer
For the stories heard
The past made present
To be viewed anew
And talked through,
Together,
Once again.
(c) wordz2go Feb 2018
Me sitting on Dad’s lap approx. 1963 …. …. ….
Looking back evokes
Forgotten memories,
Buried treasure of the past,
An opportunity grasped
To retell family stories
And to learn new ones,
Query mysteries unsolvable:
Things we’ll never know
Because it’s so long ago –
The script is lost.
Each photo tells a tale
Both known and yet to know,
Truth is perspective,
It’s hard to be objective
Through colours of today.
The sunlight of yesteryear
Warms jaded souls,
Cwtched by Mam and Dad,
Happy faces, not sad –
Safe and sound.
Pictures of the past
Pop up occasionally,
Placing us in events
Devoid of our presence,
History translated into now.
The redeeming power of love
Shines through every scene,
Bathing us in it’s glow
As emotions overflow –
To be reburied with the day.
(c) wordz2go Feb 2018
How do you pray
Knowing a child will die,
Weakened and frail,
To an unknown timescale.
How do you pray away
An unchangeable outcome,
As disease advances,
Changing circumstances.
If no treatment is science flawed,
Is no healing a flaw of God?
My limited belief
Must be at fault,
My failure is doubt,
Insufficiently devout.
A child’s life
Is so precious,
How do you pray
From day to day?
If prayer makes no difference
Is it better to live in ignorance?
How do you pray
When promises were made,
Expectations raised
Because I’ve prayed –
Yet nothing has changed,
The disease reigns free,
How do you pray
Day after day,
Should I go on praying
When I see a child failing?
(c) wordz2Go Feb 2018
Matthew 21:22 And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith”
Kitty has two modes of being:
Flight or fright!
It’s quite a sight
To see her freeze on the floor
When minutes before
She was trotting along
On a morning sniff-a-thon,
Then, it’s head down, bum up,
Totally immobile:
Meeting an over-friendly dog
Looking for a quick snog.
Or, a noisy juggernaut rolls by
And she tries to run away
From the cacophony
Causing her disharmony,
She might have little legs
But boy can she run!
To Kitty, everything is danger,
Everyone’s a stranger!
My chihuahua is utterly devoted,
Totally paranoid,
My love struck mini-humanoid.
(c) wordz2go Feb 2018
https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/thomsstory
Thomas isn’t fading,
He’s growing angel wings,
He’ll fly up high across the sky
To infinity, and beyond!
Rub between his shoulders
To feel a bony growth,
Angel wings are growing,
They’ll grow and spread
Right over his head
To guard him from the world.
Thomas isn’t dying,
He’s growing angel wings,
He’s just a child being denied
Opportunities we’ve been given.
While life is brutally cruel,
Only child-like innocence
Can grow such precious wings,
The power of flight
Is within his sight
Despite his failing vision.
Thomas will go flying,
Around the sun and moon,
He’ll see things from angel wings
But we’ll be left behind.
We will feel bereft
But Thomas will be living,
In a different time and space,
Where fears of the present
Are ceded to the heavens
Where Thomas will reside.
Thomas isn’t dying,
He’s just begun to live.
(c) wordz2Go Jan 2018
Psalm 23:4 “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”
But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for
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Poetry that purrs. It's reowr because the cat said so.
23 years old girl travelling solo on a motorcycle.
author, artist
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In the kingdom of life, with the strokes of the brush, the bow and the pen, artists have sowed their hearts to contrive, fields rivalling in beauty the Garden of Eden.
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