Sandbox Of Time

“Life… is like a sandbox, in it we build forts and

And spend glorious times together, it is the world
Outside that box that gives me trouble

Rabih Alameddine

April is Child Abuse Awareness

Many children are challenged with neglect and abuse,
whether it is a single parent left to raise a child
alone, overwhelmed with duties, often leaving
children to fend for themselves. Maybe some are left
with no parents at all, a father suddenly leaves, the child
wondering why…

We had such a good time
Playing and laughing
Building sand castles
With kings and queens
Soldiers and trumpets
And every imaginable thing
One day running out to
Play, no one was there
Where had he gone?
Something must have
Happened, she doesn’t know
She was sure it was her
Now she has no playmate
As the days go slowly by
Suddenly her bucket is
Too heavy and the shovel
Full of holes
Sand sifts through her
Fingers, looking for her
Father who left long ago

The Little Violet

“Violet! Sweet Violet! Your eyes are full of tears,
Are they wet, even yet, with the thought of other

James Russell Lowell

I really like flowers, I raise African violets, and find sometimes they
Can be challenging, and quite sassy.
They don’t like too much water, when they get soggy they are not
Very happy, too much sun, they get grumpy, but with a little love and
Care they can be content, and bring much cheer!

Snuggled in their beds
Watered and fed
Happy where they are
Dresses of pink, purple
And lavender with bright
Yellow eyes
This home is all they have
Sprouting from a seed, then
Leaves, buds and flowers

What a great life they have
Amongst all the others
One morning, perking their
Heads from a good nights
A shadow is descending
A large hand reaches over
And bending low, these
Pretty violets are lifted from
Their beds
Disturbed, wondering where
They are going
They are placed in a box
A little violet begins to

“My pot is the smallest
Surely you can squeeze me in
Please don’t leave me behind”
Quickly placing it in the box
With the others, then truck
Engines are rolling, they are
Scared as they travel down
The road, not sure where
They are going
The way seems long and they
Are tired
Suddenly the truck comes to
A stop

When the man lifts the box
Placing them on a shelf
Their eyes are startled, from
Darkness, into bright light
Their leaves are drooping, their
Flowers are dropping
They are not very pretty
As people are passing
The littlest one cries

“Our toes are cold and soggy
And we have caught a chill
Please, won’t you give us a
Chance and take us home
Before we die?”
“A time to heal is what we need
After our difficult ride”
A sprinkle of water, their heads
Begin to perk
And people start to look
“These violets are prettier than
I think I will buy them”
Shadows are passing, they
Are placed in a window

If not for their time of disaster
They would not be brighter
Filling this home with

The Spider’s Hotel

“You have been my friend, replied Charlotte, that in itself
is a tremendous thing”

Quote from Charlotte

Charlotte’s Web
Spiders can be creepy and scary, and sometimes frightening,
But they can be whimsical and funny and fun to watch.
One day when I was walking, I came upon some juniper
Bushes with some spider webs spun amongst the juniper berries.
I thought about how diligent and earnest these little
creatures are, and wrote a little poem.
Every year they pack their bags with their
Spinning wheels
To spend the summer in bungalows
Built on a juniper bush, where green fern
And monkey flowers grow, and the
wind doesn’t blow
Gardens hang from balconies high in the air
As they sit in their chairs
Spinning away as their babies play
They are proud of their bungalows and feel
Like the elite. Their suites are the best
The other spiders are late and stay as guests
On the bottom floor, swinging on a web to
Visit friends next door
In the evening they gather together to share their
Tales and play their fiddles on bended knees
Eating juniper berry pie and watch the dance of
The fireflies
The little spiders sang and played as the yellow
Moon rose, and with a yawn their eyelids close
The season flew by as they busily spun, a spider‘s
Work is never done
The rainy season comes and they pack their
Bags, saying goodbye
But they will be back next year to stay at the
Juniper Hotel!

This is one of my poems from the book ‘God’s Story Book’
just recently released. Click on my website below to visit
my site containing many other stories!

Sepulcher Of Rest

The day He died, He bowed His head and cried
“It Is Finished”

“When Joseph had taken His body, he wrapped it in a clean
linen cloth and laid it in his new tomb, which he had
hewn out of the rock”

Matthew 27:59

The sun forgot to shine that


With a frown it slowly faded


Darkness filled the sky

Upon this event no one

Could look

Mockers spit upon His body

The heathen raged

The Pharisees gloated

They had had their way

The sky split in two the

Rocks broke asunder

His body thrust with a


Water and blood from

A broken heart appeared

Oh Caiaphas, why did you

Plot to kill this Man?

Pilate’s wife had said “Have

Nothing to do with Him”

Of His guilt you washed your


The day He died He bowed

His Head and cried

“It is finished!”

Joseph laid Him in a tomb

Especially hewn for Him

His beloved friends

Laid His hands upon His


His Holy Death and

Resurrection we honor

But of the day in between

These two blessed events

Some believe He went to heaven

But then why would He need

A Resurrection?

Oh you wily ones, did you think

Your seal upon the stone would

Keep the Savior hidden?

So on the day between death and

Life, our Lord rested, to rise


For us the victory over death has

Been won!

Let not this day be forgotten!


“And I quote David Ansen, because I suspect he speaks
for many audience members who entered the theatre
in a devout or spiritual mood and emerged deeply
disturbed, this is one of the most violent movies I
have seen”

Roger Ebert

Its been just short of two decades ago, at Easter time, when one
of the most questionable movies was released, that stunned
the world with violent scenes of brutality and graphic images.

‘The Passions Of The Christ’ was witnessed by many in horror
at the cruelty toward an innocent man, depicting the last twelve
hours of his life, tortured and crucified. What was the reason
for a Man to be beaten and presented as a spectacle to the world?

Many were perplexed and wondered why? Had the producer
forgotten to include, that Christ’s love for us took Him to the cross?

That we would be delivered from the feelings we struggle with
from abuse and injustice, thinking no one cares, that

He willingly took our torments upon Himself, that we may be
delivered and spared!

Why did it happen,

why did we not stop

the cruel acts?

Did the threats

Intimidate us?

But, “we have been abused”

We cry, “those that violated

Our bodies and minds, we

Took on as our fault, the sins

Of the perpetrator has eaten

Away at our hearts.”

Our dark secrets haunt us at

Night, our pillows are drenched

With tears, having taken the

Burden upon ourselves, but it

Is just too heavy to bare

In self reproach, beating our

Backs with a whip, each

Strike of flagellation trying

Ever trying, to pay the price.

There once was a Man that

Experienced this pain as we

In humiliation and scourging,

He hung upon a tree.

His robe torn from His body,

His loincloth removed, a

Spectacle to the world, in

Shame and humiliation.

Stricken and despised by all

He identifies with us.

Soldiers taunting as He hung

In ignominy and disgrace,

Bickering over His garments

With tainted money.

Beaten with a rod, His back

Mutilated with cuts and

Abrasions, He took on our

Futile attempts to deliver


Lacerations from a crown

Of thorns pressing upon His

Head, blood flowing upon His


Nails driven through the palms

Of His hands, one day becoming

Scars of reminders of His love

For us.

Women and children are

Comforted in violence, for they

Have an Advocate.

Our appetites and passions, our

Molestations He has born,

Tasting the bitter wine, spewing

It from His mouth, giving power

To the addicted that they may

Be released, throwing the bottle

In the street.

The cry of the crowd is heard,

“Crucify Him”as he hung on the


The noonday sun rising in its

Circuit, now darkened, defying

It’s ever presence across the

Heavens, He cries “Father forgive

Them for they know not what they


Giving us the desire to forgive our

Assassins and demons too.

In the wilderness of sin he denied

Himself bread, tempted of the

Devil, given to prayer instead.

Desolate and forlorn when his

Followers fled, he understands

When we are left alone.

Taking our punishment upon

Him, for all of these things

He has given power to God’s

Sons and daughters, for there is

Not a sin that He has not forgiven!


March 27th, as the holy Sabbath hour begins, the feast of the Passover,
A sacred holiday among the Jewish people, commemorates the story
of the Israelites departure from ancient Egypt, commanded by God,
that His people will always remember their deliverance from slavery.

Book of Exodus

“So this day shall be to you a memorial…to remind you
of your deliverance from the land of Egypt.

Exodus 12:14
The Feast of Unleavened Bread, matzah bread and red wine,
are served at a dinner called the ‘Seder’ which consists of special foods
representing symbols of the Israelites journey from Egypt.

“And they baked unleavened cakes of the dough
they had brought out of Egypt…”seven days you
you shall eat unleavened bread”

Exodus 12:39

“In that day I will set apart the land of Goshen
where my people dwell…I will pass over, that no
plague will come near their dwelling.”

Exodus 8:22

In the land of Egypt a pallor

Has spread

Death is imminent

All sits in darkness but the

Land of Goshen

Where God’s chosen people

Wait for deliverance

And so Moses took his staff in


For he had a plan to lead God’s

People out of this slavery land

Before Pharoah he cast

A rod, a serpent appeared,

Pharoah became scared

To this stubborn man, Moses said

“Let these people go,

Or pestilence and plague will

Come upon you and your own”

Then Moses struck the water

The River Nile turned to blood

Frogs invaded the Pharoah’s


Into piles the frogs were heaped,

Dust was turned to lice and

Flies, flying upon man and beast

And all Pharoah’s people pled with

Him “let them go” but once

Again he would not answer

Until the angel of death struck

His son

Then this frightened man

Said “Into the desert wilderness

Take your children, that they may

Worship your God in heaven”

And so the Great Exodus began!

Multitudes of people were driven

From Egypt

Pharoah changed his mind after

They left

God was tired of his lies!

Following close behind he sought

The people, but this, God had


A large sea appeared, God split

It in two, on dry land His children

Passed through

On the other side they sang and cried –

“We have been saved, but

Pharoah and his army He cast into

The sea, the waters swallowed

Them and they all died”…

“Let this story be told to your children
for all generations!”

God’s Story Book!!!

“A Children’s Book Of Bible Stories!!! Five Star Review Recently Released!!!”


“Spiritual Stories Beautifully Illustrated”

Geared for children of all ages, in a time when spiritually

Is waning, our children need a book of biblical characters

To give direction, courage and trust!

“Our Children Are Precious, Yearning For Something This World Cannot Offer”

Cults and Followers

Many Rely on Abuse And Shame

Something was brought to my attention recently,

That dredged up memories that I would rather had

Hoped been resolved. Some of us remember the

Horror stories of madmen that took their own power

In the name of religion. Jim Jones, David Karesh,

Along with other cults (perhaps not as blatantly

Defiant in the name of God as they) but never the less

Exercising abuse and control of their people, and every once in

Awhile popping up its ugly head in mainstream churches as well)

Nor has it only been narrowed to groups of minorities,

By any means.

This most recent one I have heard about has been around for

Years, now rapidly spawning into a similar group as the

Others, here and in other countries.**Same mind control,

child abuse, etc. that are wrapped in a package with a

Pretty bow, but when opened, it spews its tentacles

Drawing people in until they are captive and unable to

Free themselves from the cult activities.

And the frightful part is that there are more out there that

We are not aware of. They operate on shame and silence

To keep their members under control, threatening lives

If daring to leave.

Bringing up these issues, there is a paradigm effect

Of how I created my own unique set of cult activity,

Slowly preparing me for not a peaceful existence

For which I had so laboriously striven to procure.

In growing up I had no set of values, no healthy models

to mirror.

But I remember at an early age resolving to choose

A different path than the one I had traveled as a child.

But as it turned out, I found myself looking for a leader

To lead me and tell me what to do. Many do that, disenchanted

With life. And I was one of them!

Certainly not to blame the faith community I had chosen,

There were many good and upright principles in their approach

For salvation, which was the main object above all objects that

I so much desired.

It was like I set myself up for guidance and direction in all

My behaviors. I don’t know what instigated such strong

Desires, since our lives were without any sense of obligation.

(In looking back I know that it was placed in my heart from

Another One than myself)

The first requirement was to remove all makeup and jewelry

To dress plainly, that I may be a Godly spectacle to the

World. To always put others first, ministering to them.

Now please understand that this was not all comprised by

The leaders and members, and not to blame them. It was just

That that was how I perceived it.

I, in my pious way, would look to others instead of to God.

I remember looking to nuns and wondering if they had peace

That was a product of their pious ways. The only thing I

Lacked was a habit, which in those days were not delineated

To street wear as now allowed in the clerical field.

One alarming thing that all of these religious control

Issues had, was taking innocent children, and as this

Last group I have mentioned, breaking down their wills,

Even hitting them with sticks that they will show

Obedience to their parents and leaders. Inflicting upon

Them an already distorted view of a loving God,

instilling a need to practice acts of abuse to their

Bodies and minds, endeavoring to seek love

And exceptance. Blocking the realization

‘we are saved by grace and not of anything we

can do, it is a gift of God’

Now here is where the pain begins to be exemplified.

As a young mother, just beginning in my ruthless

Endeavors (not having physically abusing my children)

I ignored them, performing my meaningless rituals.

Trying to receive what had already been graciously provided.

But I could not comprehend it at that time.

Needless to say, my relationship with my children

Was devoid of a normal love between mothers and daughters

That many experience.

My nemesis of all of this, is that in all my efforts of

Escaping what I had experienced as a child,

Desiring above all else to see my children spared,

My approach had no values of its own, not making sense,

Like adding fuel to an already combusting fire.

It took many years to understand what I was doing, and

Then trying to reconcile, with demonstrative pleadings.

I can gratefully say they have been understanding, but while

In their process of understanding and forgiveness, I have had

To patiently wait, with much prayer.

That is often gifted to an abusive parent, humbling in its own way.

Even with no intention of creating this complicated set of events,

Hoping that the relationships long deferred will bring about

The fruits so long desired.

I have always had a serious problem with rejection, and

It has caused much grief, especially from a child, but the

Upside of all of this has brought me to a realization of

What it may have looked like to the child, the trauma she

Experienced, not just mine. And I feel a sense of relief

From the rejection I have struggled with, a weight has been

Lifted, one that has been borne a long time! This is truly

Amazing and well taken note! One other issue I must

Address is to not cowardly react when resentment appears

To me personally,

But to stand up for myself which has been a short coming

Of mine.

This has not been well critiqued, written from an emotional

Point of view, there may be repetitive usage of words and


**The Yellow Deli Cult

The Children’s Requiem

We have survived the winter, March is ushering in the first day of spring,
Signs in the earth are just appearing. One of the first flowers to appear are violets.
They remind me of little children buried in the earth soon to come forth.
Children are resilient and forgiving, though sometimes abused and forgotten.

Crushed violets lie withered
Pressed to the ground
Trodden under foot by humanities boot
All is silent not a sound
Lavender and blue covered with dew
Each petal bruised
Leaves of green streaked with brown
Bleed from the offenders frown
Oh, little ones asleep in your tombs, you have died
Only to rise again

“One of my favorite quotations “Forgiveness is the fragrance that

the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it”

Mark Twain
“Blue Violets Crushed To The Ground”
A Requiem Of Notes Are Gathered Together, As Children Raise Their Voices In Song

Those who learned to dance and sing, in spite of the trials this earth brings, they have heard the call “Let the children come unto Me” All those who have risen from sleep, are reborn and set free!

“A new song we will sing unto Him”

Psalm 144:9

Well Seasoned

The Seasons Of Life Come In Several Different Flavors

Some sweet, some bitter, some bland, but they all

Come together with –

A pinch of this and

A pinch of that

For what is an egg without


A pie with no sugar

A stew without pepper

Dough without yeast

Forever kneading?

The Embryo Of The Egg Has Much Potential

For reproduction, to carry on life until it is cooked

Boiled, scrambled or fried

Then it has died

Thoughts Are Like Churning Butter

Slippery and insoluble, incapable of being solved or

Explained, just as confusing as deciphering the

Difference between soluble and trans fats

As butter clogs the arteries, the thoughts clog the brain

To try to understand them is in vain

When one thought starts churning, a state of unrest


Agitating with increased speed, the center about

Which it revolves

Collecting oily globules that resist any understanding

And indigestible by the natural mind in its rightful


Until it forms a mind of its own, creating two minds

At war with each other

Why all this confusion that continues on and on?

When the thought is brought to mind, there is no

One to blame

This is a process of its own, of which I am powerless

To explain!

But In All Things Sweetness Overrules!