Confusion.
Stillness.
Soon it would end.
And I’d still be frozen,
Unaware of my inner flame,
My power that was always mine.
I would regain clarity, love.
I would see what truly was mine.
In friendship and support
to be believed
to be known
to be loved, loving and lovable.
Even afterwards.
No longer like a stone,
Immoveable.
Now I move mountains
With my words, with my voice.
With my whole body
I embrace.
Those old wounds
A distant memory.
I find compassion for her
And the woman I am today.
All is Well
There is a lightness of heart
A deep inner brightness.
Full complete acceptance and
Joy that I can tap into.
A current that’s always there
The tap never stops flowing.
It enters my heart.
All is well.
I don’t need to strive to find its waters.
The light fragments into a million stars
Reminding me that we all have this same light.
I can sit.
I can smile.
All is well.
For this moment is my reality.
My presence brought forth its gifts.
With gratitude I embody its presence.
We share the same light.
It can never be dimmed or diminished.
It glows strong and bright
In me and you.
The Buffet of Depression
A sampling of insomnia.
A heapful of hopelessness.
A bottomless cup of guilt.
A dash of a fleeting suicidal thought.
A serving of no future excitement.
A boatload of rumination
and feeling trapped in my thoughts
like wandering in a maze
not sure if it’s a dead end, mousetrap
or if the escape route is
right around the corner.
Irritation and anger.
Lots of sadness
And easily prone to tears.
It’s hard to smile.
It feels like this heaviness,
This sad sorrow is all there is
All that there ever was
And all that will ever be.
And then the cycle repeats.
Another new day.
Another visit to the buffet.
[ If you are feeling overwhelmed or just need someone to talk to, dial 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline; contact your healthcare provider; dial the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration’s National Helpline at 1‑800‑662‑HELP or visit https://www.samhsa.gov/find-support/health-care-or-support or https://988lifeline.org/talk-to-someone-now/ ]
The Sunlight
The sunlight beckoned me to rise.
Its rays finding their way to the edges of the bedroom curtain.
I had a choice:
Do I ignore the desire to rise and greet the day?
Do I put on my eye mask and blackout its glorious shining light?
The days grow longer and slightly warmer.
These early hours can be squandered or conquered.
It could be my own secret,
quiet time before everyone else is up.
The stomach grumbles ready for breakfast.
The pull is too strong to ignore.
I sit up and stretch like I haven’t in a year.
I feel good, like my old (younger?) self.
That’s it. It’s decided.
I am the master of this sunny day.
So I write.
“Make of yourself a light”
The darkness can be all too consuming.
Fear lurches behind every corner.
Each stone unturned, untouched
Afraid of what lies underneath.
Secrets are meant to stay that way
Buried, dark and moist.
Like fungi in the undergrowth of a dying tree,
it consumes the decayed
The fallen.
How can the light reach even here?
A darkened warm cave
What seemed like shelter and safety is now a cage
Even with its wide open mouth entrance.
Light at the end of the tunnel
Brings hope and a promise.
It ushers us home –
a reunion of sorts –
of what it’s like to be free.
To feel the warm rays is to
Wrap love around me like a blanket.
There is protection and comfort here too.
Though I may recoil and try to go back.
In the safe quiet of the darkest night sky,
I reach out and feel your warmth
Knowing I have all that I need.
Even After
Even after the unimaginable
happened, the sunrise arrived
in all its colorful
glory. The flock of birds perched on
the distant tall trees. Their dark bodies
silhouette in the incoming light.
I watch their feathered flight
from treetop to treetop.
Can they see the wider view?
This tragedy happened and
the world moves on. My heart stopped
a beat and I wept. I stifled a scream
in my throat that rattled inside my head.
Why such injustice?
Why take such an innocent?
The touch of a child’s lock of hair,
a small hand inside of mine.
The beauty and the potential
Snuffed out in one senseless act.
I breathe and watch the light blue
and pale pink sky rise over me.
The hope and promise
that a new day brings.
I hear my child sing as she plays
unaware of the recent events.
I try to keep her innocent and safe.
Let the play come, feel the joy
wrapped in creative safety.
I hold her close,
even if she doesn’t understand why.
In memory of Liam James Dempsey
May 15, 2019 - March 21, 2024
Imbolc
These dark days of winter
no snow or ice
just a grayness
hung low from the sky.
We all want to be free
free from pain
free from hurt
thoughts, mind
body still.
Yet I go outdoors
Praying for the sun rays.
I won’t squint or complain
This time, I promise.
Your rays are not harsh
But a welcome home
Into your warm embrace
We all long to be.
Gray sky
Gray concrete
The houses look dim
The trees stark black.
I can see the cardinals
seeking shelter in the tree.
Where do they sleep at night?
Do they nest or hide in a stronghold
Sheltered from the cold
The gray, the unending hard ground?
The body hardens against the harsh reality
and all I want to do is soften in that warm embrace.
Lead me by the hand
Yours warming my cold fingers
Gloves don’t keep out the cold.
I saw a glimpse of the sun
and I went outside to seek its wisdom
to bask in its glory
to soak up some rays.
The biting wind greeted me.
My strong legs carried me on
Hoping my body would soon warm up.
Stride after stride
We all want to be free
free from pain
free from hurt
free from isolation and a cold shoulder.
A warm smile greets me like a warm mug of tea
The whole room softens in your glow
The light of Imbolc, another of nature’s cues
The darkness is not a permanent state
The sun doesn’t always shine
It doesn’t have to rain or snow on a cold, gray day.
My emerald heart glows in your embrace
To walk upon the body of Earth.
Of soup, weaver and stone
O’ these remarkable hands
strong arms that embrace
the day has now marched forth
the belly grumbles its demands
of soup.
I weave the ingredients
chopped carrots, celery and onion
sized just right
not too big and chunky
but a delightful bite
spoonful upon spoonful.
Of Soup, Weaver and Stone
The hearth I place upon the kettle,
the pot and ladle.
You turn on with little effort
a forceful gas
a pop ignites a flame.
I marvel the alchemy
of what was many parts
too big to consume
marinates and softens.
The scent permeates to each room’s walls
a heartiness
a potential promise
of a full belly
with gobs of soft fresh bread
baked by unknown hands
now in mine I consume.
A Cycle
Snaggled undertoe, seaweed clings to
my legs afraid to be adrift back to sea
a tumultuous ride
turned over and over
a cycle that pauses for no one.
Come Celebrate with me
Come celebrate with me
as we walk down the path
to the meadow, to the sea,
to the sidewalk and asphalt
cracked, lush or barren.
There is beauty underfoot.
Step by step
one leads to one
surefooted or deeply rooted.
Come celebrate with me:
air in our lungs
a sound on the tip of our tongue
a warm smile
a steady hand of support
a sure-foot beat.
Together we stroll
down the well-grooved path.
Healing Insights 