Can You? 2-4-19

Can you hear the words spoken through

Closed Windows?

Can you know a heart may be broken, through a Kind smile?

Can you distinguish the heartbeat of a person who is slowly leaving us?

Can you change from a child into an adult really?

Can you leave your emotional baggage behind you?

Can you move on without feeling the metamorphosis of your being?

Can your soul diversify ?

Can you find your true Elysium?

Can the borderline of your consciousness be tested?

I am fragmented to the core my being…



She was born with Golden wheat hair, and eyes as azure blue as the oceans.

She was loved by all, or was she?

She came in a packaged deal with two others.

All three identical.

One passed six hours after birth.

The other of a disease so simple, at age three.

Then whilst sleeping and dreaming beautiful dreams in color, her world came crashing down upon her.

Screams, smoke, fire.

Her bed was shoved into the doorway.

Saved by a steel top to her crib she laid in shocked and coughing fiercely.

At age 3 and a half she whimpered silently as if she made a sound , then she might be touched with this adversity .

Experiencing another tragedy.

Barely over the first one.

A neighbor came running, kicking her bed with a desperate endeavor.

He was rewarded with a release.

The little girl hurrying, jumping like a frog into her savors arms…

Then she noticed the dew upon the ground reaching for it the man let her down.

All was normal again as the fire, screams, and smoke slowly, subsided.

Distance had become between her and the scene.

Her mother arrived screaming her name, she shivered and looked into her mothers mirrored eyes , and buried her head in her chest and wept….

Our Skies

I see what you see, I feel what you feel.

Life from the same skies in different parts.

See the oranges, reds, and blue hues?

I think it could be in Indiana, or maybe Ireland.

California or Cambodia, maybe Australia or  Alabama.

Even France or Florida, Denmark or Delaware.

Live so distantly apart, however heartbeats are driven strenuously as if you all are closer than my jugular vein .

Walking and Comptemplating our mirrored existences .

My meditations are unbreakable, for we all are nevertheless one.watermarked-photo-12-2016-08-07-2335

My Rainbow

img_7039Is it true that there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

Or is it true there are leprechauns in Ireland?

I wonder if my ancestors said these things to get me to visit their by gone Motherlands.

Is it as green as my backyard?

Oh how I would love to see it!

My eyes  well with tears when I hear an Irish lullaby, even more so now.

A song my dear grandmother used to lull me asleep with  at night as a child.

She would hug me tightly as she tucked me in for the night, and say,  ” Angels on your pillow’s “!👼👼👼

My heart still feels and sees green shamrocks that inhabited my pockets.

Ah I dream of the shores of that place where smiles are planted firmly in my soul.

Every time I see a rainbow I see home.