Scary But True

"You will be a healer,"
God said, as He fashioned my body
From a lump of clay.

On this day, I formed you
Created you in your mother's womb

No, it was not in the union of man and wife
But in an act of passion
In an act of desire
And perhaps desperation
Between one who wanted a future
And one who simply wanted right now.
Humble beginnings

Hear that Ave Maria on the radio?
That's for you to remember
She had to endure a lot
To have her son
In a society that would rather kill off a life
or two
than let someone off the hook

She risked all to give life to a child
That somewhere in her heart
She knew he might just save the world. 

Such is a mother's love.

You began in humility
You were asked to suffer
And in that suffering
You had a choice:

Be bitter. Be angry. Get even. Take all you can. Now is all you have.
Or
Be patient. Be compassionate. Be humble. Serve so that others might live.

Use your life, your pain, to heal

You have the choice to heal
Or to destroy
To love
Or to hate
To build plowhares into swords
Or swords into plowshares

To risk death: physical, emotional, spiritual...
To give life

Choose life.
Be a healer.

Ugly things

She said I wrote ugly things
But I didn't

I wrote what was going on
I wrote how I felt about it
And then I hid it
Little scraps of paper
Placed behind milk bottles
Inside statues
Behind pictures...

Often behind the monstrous picture of me
The one she had made
And had"doctored"
So I looked like what she wanted me to be
Instead of who I really was

Behind there I put my dark poetry
Not the kind words for Hallmark cards
Not the "You are such a wonderful mother"
Not the "I love you so much"

But the ones where I was being chased
The ones about how I was hiding
And some about how I gave in

Much, much later...
when I was a teacher
I found "ugly poetry"
on one of my students' desks

I read it...and understood it...
behind the obscenities and sexual suggestions
I heard the cry
And did something about it

A couple of years later
I saw the young girl in a movie theater
I just stood there
She saw me...and ran to me...and hugged my neck

She said, "I'm living with my grandmother now."
And she looked down at the carpet.
Then she looked up.
She hugged me again.
She said "Thank you."

Sometimes...we get lucky
Sometimes we don't

Cindy

I do not care for my bed

I do not care for my bed
You may buy me another if you wish
But this is my bed for now

I allow you to make love to me
I'll play Clare to your Francis
Or Teresa to your John
But quite frankly
This is my bed for now

I wait for you to want real things
And not plays or pretends
To see me as I really am
And love ME
Not the woman you want me to be
But the woman I am
I'll wait...
But not forever