Re: Because Randy Reminded Me I'm a Writer

[Guest guest]

Thank you without an H,

I will continue sharing.

Much Love and Light,

Carole

> > >

> > > Love is surrounding you Carole, it is present and has

been...you are

> > > not alone and it has taken a few " moments " ...that is,

this " valley " ,

> > > casting shadows, because of the " light " that receded so suddenly

> > > needed a few " moments " to reorient itself...your own light

going after

> > it.

> > >

> > > The " valley " is recovering the light as it comes over the crest,

> > > beginning to warm what has seemed so dark and cold. Your light

> > > [strength] is return as well, becoming

conscious....the " lightness "

> > > seeming to lift you from the valley floor back towards the

mountains

> > > tops, where spirits play and remind that we are not alone, nor

is this

> > > experiencing as real as it has seemed.

> > >

> > > Write....write it till it flows...write till there is nothing

left to

> > > say, for this is your time to convey your spirits voice and

message.

> > > And, perhaps it's you....or, could be [?] Christy....but you

might

> > > consider putting these things to music...turning the words of

the soul

> > > to the living essence and the " anger " of experience into sounds

> > > transformed...healing comes from sound, and words convey the

way.

> > >

> > > With Love

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > > --- In , " Carole " cbrum2005@

wrote:

> > > >

> > > > I've been silent in the group for awhile. I've been going

through

> > > > one of the valleys of my struggle with grief. But, our friend

Randy

> > > > has once again reminded me I'm a writer. I promised the group

a long

> > > > time ago that I would post something original and I never

have. So

> > > > here is my latest one.

> > > >

> > > > I sit at the computer

> > > > pencil thrown aside.

> > > > It scratched across the paper

> > > > and broke - my anger broke the lead.

> > > > So I sit at my computer pounding the keys.

> > > > My life - raw, jagged pain.

> > > > I long to hear my daughter's voice.

> > > > Forever silenced by death's final end.

> > > > A voice silenced by a man's hand.

> > > > I long to smell her scent

> > > > A scent as familiar as my own.

> > > > My world is filled with silent moments.

> > > > Moments that I hear her voice in my mind.

> > > > The last words spoken, the ones remembered.

> > > > The tears flow as I write this.

> > > > I'm reminded that I can still write and I must.

> > > > Christy, you would want me to write.

> > > > You did, and you did it beautifully.

> > > > So, the pencil lead is sitting by the torn paper.

> > > > My anger turned to tears.

> > > > Please, God, take good care of her

> > > > And remember me,

> > > > Let me appreciate your goodness

> > > > and remember to say

> > > > Thank you God, for letting me have her.

> > > >

> > >

> >

> >

>