What Is This Command?

A kind gentle Man accepts me just as I am

Words of a child adopted and set free
  • What is this command
     You have given to me

    To come to the Father
    On bended knee ?

    How to do this I am at a

    For it seems that the
    Separation is far too

    When I think of a father
    I get confused

    I think of him who was 
    Always late

    When did this happen

    Perhaps when the night
    Terrors struck at an early

    Of my father standing by
    Not attempting to rescue 

    Or save from the terror I
    Was that when the fear
    Of a father was dealt?

    But now it is time to let
    That father image go

    And look to God the Father
    As a kind gentle Man that
    Accepts me just as I am

    I am at Your mercy knowing 
    Full well, You are not my
    Father I am talking to

    You are much greater than

    You are the one who adopted Me!



Her Wanders and Travels had come in from the dust”

….so another journey of the
Girl as she leaves the story
Of the past behind,

The children have grown
Older the boy moves on but
She remains in the last mining

Her wanders and travels have
Come in from the dust,
But the bumps and ridges
Continue to travel in her mind…

There is placed within her heart
A desire to turn from her mother’s
Evil ways, 

Her father still lives in the city
And she visits on a bus, an exciting
Time,  she is not sure why, he
Is inebriated, but he is kind,

Things back home are still about
The same, arguments and fights…
Sporadic visits with her father
Always end with heart wrenching

She prays that she will not be sent
Away that it can be delayed for a
While anyway,

Father becomes ill, the  boy and
Girl are called to his side…

Gasping for breath, thinking this
Will surely be his last, as the
 Seconds go by, seems like a 
Minute then he takes another

He is dying in agony and pain
that alcohol brings…
Tears come as she returns home,
Never to have her father again,

Now a greater desire than ever
Fills her heart, slowly it is filled
With devotion and piety

No more bad words, no sleeveless
Dress, no more lipstick and eye
Shadow causes the worse duress,
Her lips and eyes have always
 Hidden what is inside

The holes that were bored for
Earrings, skin filled in,
Hair is straight no more curls
No more dangles, bangles or 
Anything, her altered face erased
From the world,

Of all of these things denied she
Had hoped she had arrived,
Only to find there was still no
Peace inside,

Little did she know she looked
to God, as she had to her father,
Always trying to be good to
Earn His favor…

Excerpts from ‘The Wanderlust’ poem

Sent from my iPad


  • Sent from my iPad



“A Captain comes to her aid, speaking a Word, lifting
her above this battle of rage”

  • The body is a commodity
    Little pieces making up
    The whole, each part is integral

    An odyssey takes place from
    a journey of long ago

    An lliad of a voyage over
     Warring waters to a destined
    place the place where it started

    A long wandering in her mind,
    The prodigy  child has been the
    Directing this ship through
    An uneven course of events

    The pirates are part of the
    Conspiracy stalking the decks
    With their muskets and swords

    Sailing the high seas searching
    For their bounty

    Quietly they come, then plunder
    Alive, these thieves of the stormy

    Entering the cabin of the ship
    Taking hostage of the child

    She fights, grasping back what is
    rightfully hers

    Beginning to flounder  in sinking
    A Sword gleaming in the night

    A Captain comes to her aid
     Speaking a Word lifting her above
    this battle of rage

    Now she is one in mind and body
    The commodities have been
    Restored, the ones she had lost in
     This battle of the mind!


The Search

“Through wind, water and gale we will not give up”
    Together now, we are on a journey
    Vowing to find our Father,
    A sea we must pass and a desert
    With three rivers and a hill to
    Coming to the harbor, stepping
    On land, we continue our quest…

    The sun beats down as we trudge
    Along, grateful we are doing this

    A little water to drink,
     Laying down to sleep
    It is cold
     Even snakes and lizards crawl
    Into their holes…

    A sea and desert we have passed
    Now three rivers we forge
    But we will not give up,
    Through wind, water and gale
    We have searched…now only a

    Hill with a cross is left
    Lifting our arms to the heavens
    Angels do their bidding,
    “There  you will find your Father!”

  • Excerpts from the above poem
    ‘The Search’

    Sent from my iPad


Together Now

  • Then one day I was shown
    I must stop this battle we

    I took her aside and told her
    I was sorry, we must become
     One, she and I,

    She told me the split had
    Caused too much pain, 
    She had tried to forgive
    But it was just too difficult,

    Our separation remained,
    I thought I could not live
    With her, and yet I could
    Not live without her,

    We were  scared, we were
    Ashamed, we thought each
    Other was to blame,

    We held each other with
    Open arms, we sobbed,
    We wept, we were no longer
    Torn in two,
    I bestow a legacy of love,
    My dear sweet child on you!


Moving In A Different Direction

“To be delivered from a desert of wilderness and violence
was a miracle beyond my ability to hope for”

The cry of the desert’s hardships was answered

It has been nine months now since I began my blog.
It was my desire to share my story with others.
I have written a series of books on my young life
in Nevada mining towns. Of harrowing experiences,
but only to let the reader know there is hope for
those who have felt the isolation and endured the
loneliness of abandonment and abuse.

It seemed I had to begin writing these experiences,
moving through the emotions of fear, anger and
sometimes rage, before I could come to the place
of diverting my writing in a different direction.

My brother and I had a spiritual deliverance of
miracles, placing in our hearts the desire to
stop the continuing family history of alcohol and
addictive behaviour portrayed by role models
in our young existence.

I then began to write my life experiences and
recovery in prose and poetry. I have shared
some of these experiences on my blog. I have
books on Amazon and Smashwords unfolding
a story that I hope others will find helpful!

Resting Places


  • Pressing on with hope
  • That what I cannot see
    Will one day come to be

    In my youth I had striven
    To excel in all things given
    In after years I was slowly

    All things in the past 
    Forgiven, resting places
    Have arisen

    The magic number seven
    Opens the door of heaven

    A busy week of six
    One day given for rest
    That all may be blessed

    This is new to be here
    Laurel and rose with
     Poppies I behold

    Before I had not presence 
    Of mind to see the beauty
    They hold

    The briar and the thorn no
    Longer exist, giving way the
    Pricks to one eternal thought,
    preexisting doubts

    Prone to share this Heavenly
    Splendor, I seek one like I to
    Ever press on to together