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Posts Tagged ‘heartache’

#Promises

Aching thoughts of a lost love

Promises

I told you I’d be back

But you couldn’t wait that long

I promised gifts and treasure

Yet before that you were gone

How could I be so wrong –again?

Then gifts and treasures, too small for you

Were the all love that my heart could hold

More than enough to fill your heart and soul

Enough to fill your world with everything you wanted

A heart to hold every breath you breathe, so softly

Arms to melt every ache you felt, so tenderly

A mind to remember every loving wish, so caringly

All to bring magic back in your life, so brilliantly

A paradise unimagined by anyone else

Was yours for free

If you waited for me

But you were gone

Gone so far from me

All my gifts lie unopened

Unwanted and neglected

The love I have is in my heart

A heart now broken and unwanted

Pain and heartache lie within a withered husk

All I have is a hole where it used to be

So I pray with the tiny spark I have left

Let the emptiness of the Universe fill that hole

All that I can hope for to recreate my soul

To breathe life into that withered husk

The husk that remains of a once filled heart

Universe willing I can find the strength to carry on

Without this small hope life isn’t worth going on

For me, this is the last time to fight for life

It is, quite simply, the last fight

Hello death, my erstwhile companion

You have my reservation.

©  Susan Jamieson 2014

 

image courtesy of lmelton2003.deviantart.com

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Waiting in the wings

Just around the corner

At the edge of sleep

Or as you start to wake

Are the memories

Of the past and

The hopes for the future.

image from fieldguidetoconservatism.blogspot.com

There is no magic carpet ride in the physical world we live in; that’s where our hopes and dreams are. If we are creative enough and believe in ourselves, we can create our magic carpet ride, fill our lives with magic and whatever it is that makes our hearts and minds sing. We can, if we but believe, bring our spirit alive with all manner of wondrous things. If we but believe – and are offered the support to allow our imaginations to blossom.

I am content that the extremes of human behaviour can still lift me to the heavens or crush me with sadness. I am grateful that I am able to feel those emotions to the fullest of my abilities. You might wonder why I would choose to be so saddened. It means, to me at least, that I am not inured to the grossness which people can descend to. I can still hold tight to the hope that if I give of my gratitude, love and well-being to the world, and enough others do the same, that we can make a difference to this wonderful world of ours.

I’d like to show you a small example, unhappy and unpleasant, but then, for some, that’s life.

Many years ago, when I was living in a country town, there was a horrendous event. A young child had been systematically abused by her mother’s defacto for years. Despite trying to tell her mother, she was not believed. Apparently her mother couldn’t believe her “wonderful boyfriend would want to be sexual with her teenage daughter when he had her to satisfy him.” The situation was even more horrendous than this and lasted for four years before she told a friend.

Everything this child told the police was true and the perpetrator confessed to the police. Her mother, in anger and frustration, blamed the child and threw her out of her home. The rest of her extended family refused to help her either and she was taken into Child Services until the trial.

This presented a dilemma. The police needed her to be at the trial and yet she had nowhere to stay where she felt supported in what was a horrendous time. This was how she came into my life. She stayed with us for the week whilst the trial was held.  She was visibly timid and trembled constantly. Despite the fact that my ex was the arresting officer she was obviously ill at ease with a man close to her.  After we went to bed for the night I heard her crying in her room.

My children were still babies and I couldn’t ignore the pain in this child’s cries. We spent the entire night talking, or rather she talked and I listened in mounting horror. She had been unable to talk to anyone about what had occurred after giving her statement to the police. Her trauma was so great she had been unable to open up to anyone. Somehow she felt safe enough to talk to me.

It was a long week, with little sleep for either of us. She desperately needed to talk to someone after each days’ events and I wouldn’t, couldn’t turn her away. It so so apparent she had not had the chance to get the horrors of the past out into the daylight so she could begin to heal. On the last day she flew through the front door and into my arms and sobbed for an hour. The Judge had sentenced the man to five years jail after he had been found guilty on all counts.

image from de.123rf.com

On the steps of the court her mother asked her to come back home, to look after the younger children so that she could work, but only until the day her boyfriend was released from jail. Then she would have to leave! After all that had happened, this broke her heart all over again. She wanted someone to tell her what to do, something I couldn’t do, even if, in my heart, I would have liked to.

We spent another long night talking, exploring the avenues she had open to her. She was, fortunately, now of an age where she could remain in town to complete her schooling. From there she was able, for the first time, to look at what she might like to do. I suggested she let herself dream of the possible things she might like to do and build her plans from there. She realised she had a future she could dream of and plan for.

The next morning she left and for the first time there appeared to be a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. The haunted look which shadowed her eyes was, not gone, but much lighter than I had ever seen. She was nervous but she was looking forward to tomorrow. She told me it was the first time she had been able to sleep without listening for the door opening. With tears in my eyes I hugged her and then waved her off.

Just over two years later I answered my phone and heard a bright cheerful voice on the other end.  Two years had made a tremendous difference to the frightened girl I met. She was going away to University, far away from her “home”. She told me of her dreams for the future, some already beginning and some she was still working on. She still had bad days, but the good ones outweighed the bad and she told me she dreamed of the wonderful things she was going to do. Somehow I know that her dreams came true.

I believe that when this child and I met, I was the one Blessed to be the hand holding a candle, to banish the darkness for her.  I believe that I was allowed to light a window into a future she could embroider to make her happy. I believe that magic happened, and that I was honoured to be able to witness that happening.

Magic is all around us, in the golden morning sunrise, the silvered evening moon glow, in the twinkling sounds of the fairies dance and in the bright imaginings by day or in the cocoon of sweet dreams.

I wish everyone the joy of magic and dreams fulfilled, laughter and far horizons. As it should be.

Blessings  Susan xx

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”
― Roald Dahl

© Susan Jamieson

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Falling

Softly in the darkness

Velvety wings

Wrapped around in darkness

Turning quietly

Downwards in darkness

Seeking

For answers

Heart beat

Blood drip

Pouring quietly in darkness

Twinkling faintly

Lights, so far in darkness

Barely seen

Music playing

Sounding loudly in darkness

Angels in darkness

Angels bringing light

Every song is Angels

Cradled softly

In feathery wings

Safe in light

Saved from darkness

Not alone, nor lonely

Angels if light

‘Here

There

Everywhere in the darkness

Pain,

Eased in the light

Heartache

image from indianapublicmedia.org

Soothed in the light

Angels of pure light

The answer…

Angels,

Just Angels

image from earthangels-angeliclightworkers.com

Have a beautiful weekend

Ciao,

Susan x

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“The past is the beginning of the beginning and all that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn.”     H. G. Wells

Have you ever wondered why the day follows night

Seen the sunrise and wondered if its alright

Have you ever wondered why the person you waited for all your life

Turns out to be the one who can hurt you more than ever in your life

If the heart is made for love why does it need to be broken

For all the wise words spoken have said that love is not a token

Meant to be given in jest

Then thrown away with the rest.

Is this pain felt inside meant to let you know you’re alive

I’m waiting for the lesson I should learn

From this time spent in pain

Yet none ever seems to come

Does this mean I have to go through this again

My heart handed out on a platter

Filled with love, hope and laughter

Not to be used like fodder and shattered

Like a tool to be used of no value and cast aside

Leaving me bereft and without anything but pride.

Or is that simply an illusion

Something more to add to the confusion

Should I wish for a heart of stone

Never more to feel so cold and alone

It’s the numbness I now crave

In the darkness of the grave.

For I want no more of this pain

Useless wasted time flushed down the drain

Tears hidden inside flooding through me like rain.

“She’d cried over a broken heart before. She knew what that felt like, and it didn’t feel like this. Her heart felt not so much broken as just … empty. It felt like she was an outline empty in the middle. The outline cried senselessly for the absent middle. The past cried for the present that was nothing.”   Ann Brashares, Sisterhood Everlasting

The human  heart is made to love, has an infinite capacity to love. That’s what I’ve read so many times and heard from so many people. It seems that, if all the wise people I’ve read and heard from are correct, that it’s almost a given that the heart is meant to be broken and mended again and again. Yet I have to ask myself, to what purpose?  Is there some unknown quality granted to a heart which feels torn asunder over and over again that I am somehow missing? Really, it’s a serious conundrum. What possible purpose could be served by having to go through so much agony over and over again?

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