I was out foraging in the woods today,
This morning, when it was cooly,
Dark, and quiet, only the birds had a say.

I saw the sun force the darkness to hide,
Allowing me to see;
Strewn branches, twigs and leaves astride.

Dead waste or my fire’s delight?!
I came home successfully,
Joyfully and proud with the efforts of my might.

Mother;
Mothering? Smothering?
do we need to re-mother?
Love of another?
Enduring legacy of
Loss and despair,
Acceptance, love and joy.
Reconciliation.
Mother;
You help us to recover,
Hope for more to come,
And life to enjoy!

Open your eyes, and
Come out from the darkness. 
12 years have passed,
I’ve forgotten you from long ago.
I am sorry for dismissing you, 
Now, I want to put you on show.
12 years, since the coma,
Wake up, and
Live.
Now. Go,
Breathe.
You can do it,
The journey is not over,
It's only begun.
Each new day is a new life,
You can now sleep, knowing there’s more to come.

Grief is like being drunk...

Hungover with grief; the heavy cloak of love
Cutting you off from reality,
Cocooning you, all the while changing you.
Surrendering the struggle, to survive
Paradoxically helps you thrive.

Are we all under a spell?
One spell or another?
Spell of another?
Spell of money?
Spell of fame or
Milk and honey?
Spell of drugs, alcohol,
Shame?
**** or the drudgery
of the day-to-day?
Light spells? Dark spells?
Spells that sell
A different life.
But we only have one life,
This one, right here, right now.
Live it!

You make all things new!
What was lost, damaged, and of no value,
can be transformed.
Little by little,
Breath by breath,
Choice by choice.
Drop by drop,
fills a pond.
You are faithful;
My transformer.

Can I wash my thoughts clean?
Can I  turn them inside out?
Can I transform my thoughts to glean?
Can they be renewed? I pout.

Is that Your work Holy Spirit?
Washing my thoughts? Or am I too mean?
Try other ways, primp and preen?
Am I doomed until I’ve made them seen?

I feel like a child throwing a tantrum,
But an adult, I want to be.
I want to grow like an oak in the garden,
that others come to see. 

Will it always be a huff and puff?
Hard work all the way?
Or will there be something I use my gruff,
And transform it into play?

Even now as I put pen to paper,
free my thoughts out to breathe,
The intensity turns into a caper,
And I allow myself a reprieve.

Enjoy this season of transformation,
It will always be your bread.
I am growing in emancipation,
And it will be this way till I’m dead.

But even then, I gain new life,
With You free from the grave.
For death, with you, has no strife,
And believing that makes me brave.

So, I will lift my head again,
And once again, I will breathe in,
I will let my eyes search along the plain,
And go, a smile beaming from within.