Fragrances of flowers can bring back memories of long ago, sweet scents of perfumes
perhaps turning a sad memory into a happy one!
Sitting on the blue quilted chair in my nightie I watched intently as she dressed for the party my elbows resting on the table. As she slowly drew her dark stockings then pulled a slip over her head, gracefully stepping into a black dress clinging to her thin little body. Her dark hair combed with care, pulled back with a shiny barrette and with a finishing touch a necklace of pearls and matching earrings. She stood before the mirror, a light from the window falling upon her – and she was beautiful! Like a lustrous pearl in emerald green grass – and I loved her so much, even though she was out of touch with her little girl. Reaching for a small lavender bottle of perfume, she applied the sweet scent behind each ear and then smiling at me dabbing a drop on each of my cheeks with a teasing grin. It melted into my memory, my skin was perfused with the scent of my mother, as she bent low and kissed me goodbye!
It’s been 6 months since the devastating Ukrainian War began! Starting in February of this year, when in a few short months their sunflowers would begin to sprout and grow, but for [now] are never more!
Where are your fields now, Oh weary ones of war? Where once your faces chased the sun! Your apron’s nourishing seeds feeding your nation and world! Now artillery and smoke have hidden your smiles your golden vials of oil are broken But down below your hardened soil your precious seed is hidden, your tears will sprinkle your meadows, bringing your smiling faces once again!
Can anyone relate to going on a vacation with a head full of worries and concerns until it
SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE TO LET GO AND HAVE FUN?
I’m going on vacation, but I’m leaving behind that part of [me]that fusses and fumes insisting on taking excess baggage that weighs me down! My baggage will be easy and light. Just what I need from the chatter that doesn’t really matter! Just even for an hour would do, to introduce a new thought or two!
Through our busy week with hectic schedules and earthly demands, we have not been forgotten…on this Sabbath ‘eve we have been given a restful day of CELEBRATION!
All things in the past
FORGIVEN!
Resting places have arisen the magic number seven opens the door of heaven This is new to be here I knew not I would rest here things seem so clear here The roses I behold before I had not presence of mind to see the beauty they hold Prone to share this heavenly splendor I seek one as I, to ever press on together!
Good evening! As the Sabbath hours are approaching – And have arrived in distant lands!
Have you ever wondered if angels get tired and weary? Do they cry when they see our pain and feel our loss, when we ignore their care and forget to trust?
Weeping with tears of things done here, but with unfolded wings ever returning, doing His bidding!
The tools we have used to survive – managing our lives – sometimes fail, leaving us with little strength to face our battles within and without! Our fences confine us, our walls divide us hindering us from sharing hope with others!
A gale came up – the wind blew The old weakened fence was almost rent in two Now it is bent and ready to fall taking only a small gust causing part of the fence to collapse the remaining taking up the slack
Sitting on a bench surveying the damage I thought about others – some of us are strong and some of us are tall and some of us have no hope at all!
Like the fence – the load is too heavy Life’s storms weaken – and we fall, but when we take our eyes off of our storms and gales we become a help to others!
Another week has swiftly passed, sunset’s colors scatter across the the heavenly skies setting aside a day of rest that our hearts may all beat in unison!
“A world without a Sabbath would be like a man without a smile – like a summer without flowers it is the joyous day of the week”
A Reflection on grief and mental illness . . . It was a warm summer morning in the month of July, as I sat in the office waiting to be released. I was given instructions to return every week to attend group therapy. The doctor had prescribed strong drugs to avert the suicidal ideation thoughts that brought me to this place. I was prescribed anti-psychotic meds, with Lithium used for this problem. Since I was drug resistant to antidepressants for depression, I was prescribed Nardil and its family of (MAOI) Inhibitors. When my ride finally arrived I was bid goodbye, and now on my own. The door shut behind me and I felt the warm sun on my skin, heard the sound of cars and an airplane and train that echoed in my mind. I felt alone and wasn’t sure I would make it. Trying to resume my activities was a challenge. Sometimes it was difficult to get out of bed. On one particular day I was staring at the ceiling fan and counting the blades as they turned in circular motion, counting and obsessing were part of my illness. The incessant numbers and words locked in my mind. But even though I felt fearful and afraid, there were times of uplifting experiences which gave me hope that I wasn’t alone in this battle of my mind. One such experience I will share, that I wrote to poetry, seeming a bit redundant, but that was the only tool given to me, journaling these moments to give me courage when I would begin to lose hope.
Called – ‘The Curtain’
Is it a dream? It seems as if it is – waking with a start I know it is not Opening my eyes to this illness, there is no one I can confide How it came about I could not explain, searching for an answer to a troubled mind
Reaching for my robe with throbbing pain and rapid pulse making an effort to stand by my bed, a brittle soul about to break, falling back down into slumber again
There is a stirring as I awake once more saying a prayer “Please my soul to take” Crispness of sheets brush against my skin a fever begins and my body seems to melt sheets now wet with the trickle of sweat
Beginning to thirst and bereft of water I become hotter, beginning once again to falter the hopeful anecdote to my illness has provoked it instead, another potion has created more mental commotion
The walls seem empty as I stare in space searching for anything to break the dreariness of this place, on the left hangs a picture dismal and grey, to the right a window dressed in lavender and white hanging from a silver rod could this be a gift from God?
I must see it better, slowly lifting my head from the bed, moving my legs to the floor, reaching for the wall with trembling hands, pulling the curtain to my side as I cry “This piece of cloth I wish to hang above my head”
As I try, my arms are not high enough, my hammer and nails strong enough, I sit in the midst of failure and quit, in my brokenness something greater than I draws the curtain aside, and with His rod accurate and right He drapes His banner of love* over me. . .
God’s hands became my hands, giving me strength and accuracy to secure the rod, and to this day the curtain hangs above my bed!
Donna's Poetry Blog 