8 Years of Hindsight

I want it back
The time when She was
Too weak
To open her mouth,
To take a drink

I want it back
The couch
The chair
The half-hour that I
stared, stared, stared

I want it back
Her
S t r e t c h e d out and
limp
The silence,
the dim-darksuffocating living room

I want it back
The chance to fill my mother's last moments
With the sound of her only soun's voice
To make the choice
To not be silent; to make emotional noise

I want it back
The last time I went to bed
(With a mother)
The last time I said "Goodnight"
To my Mother

I want it back
The bitter end
To a bitter fight
To make less bitter
The memory of that merciless, haunting night(mare).

Return

I want to set it free
Break its bonds;
Unleash it.

To exterminate the virus
Heal its eye;
To wake it from this perpetual dream.

To dust it off
And open it up;
And use it.

Where Do I Fit?

"Where do I fit?!" my flesh does cry. "Not with them, nor there!" my fear does reply, "An outcast! A bore! There is nothing, that you are good for!" So I seep in my shame. Losing heart, losing life.

But slowly I hear the voice of One with a voice more powerful than the voice of Hate. My Spirit cries on my behalf to the one known as "Love". Now from deep inside I hear a different out-cry, "How great is the love lavished upon us that we should be called children of God." Then I remember where I belong; In God's arms.