On the Occasion of my Life
It is what it is and no more
What can be said of my life
except I survived and tried to do
what I thought was right.
Did the trying always match the deed?
No, there were times I looked aside
and did the thing I thought in error
would bring sweet relief.
I took care of what I was given
as best as I knew how
even when I saw nothing
but darkness rising – no light dawning.
"There will be another day.
The sun will shine again."
I told myself these words,
my mind only half believing.
But it was the right thing to do –
to hope, to believe, to try
to keep the fear from seeping
into my child as he lay sleeping.
I endeavored to impart hope and cheer
to others along the way
when there was nothing within me
but loneliness and fear.
Never quite connecting to another soul,
I knew the hand of friendship;
but it did not make me whole.
I gave when there was nothing more to give,
when it was all I could do to get through
one more pain filled day.
I knew life-giving words to say,
but my heart did not hear them.
I've lived within the chrysalis,
waiting to take flight;
longing to be lovely;
for the wings to make life right.
I thought I felt them once
sprouting from my sides
and hoped it was my time to fly.
I felt the rush of passion,
the blush was on my cheek;
but suddenly my wings were smashed.
My hope turned to grief.
There have been moments,
dashes in the realm of time,
when something akin to peace
seemed to sweep lightly across my skin.
Looking back, it was likely
only the foehn wind
sweeping down from a mountaintop
where I'd never been.
As I write these words,
I see the falsehoods and lies
pouring from the lips of men
as they give their words a spin
not even trying to do what's right.
At least, I've always tried
to share the truth
even when I could not live it.
Surviving is something;
trying perhaps a little more.
I only hope that in some way
I've shown someone the Door.
What can be said of my life
except I survived and tried to do
what I thought was right.
Did the trying always match the deed?
No, there were times I looked aside
and did the thing I thought in error
would bring sweet relief.
I took care of what I was given
as best as I knew how
even when I saw nothing
but darkness rising – no light dawning.
"There will be another day.
The sun will shine again."
I told myself these words,
my mind only half believing.
But it was the right thing to do –
to hope, to believe, to try
to keep the fear from seeping
into my child as he lay sleeping.
I endeavored to impart hope and cheer
to others along the way
when there was nothing within me
but loneliness and fear.
Never quite connecting to another soul,
I knew the hand of friendship;
but it did not make me whole.
I gave when there was nothing more to give,
when it was all I could do to get through
one more pain filled day.
I knew life-giving words to say,
but my heart did not hear them.
I've lived within the chrysalis,
waiting to take flight;
longing to be lovely;
for the wings to make life right.
I thought I felt them once
sprouting from my sides
and hoped it was my time to fly.
I felt the rush of passion,
the blush was on my cheek;
but suddenly my wings were smashed.
My hope turned to grief.
There have been moments,
dashes in the realm of time,
when something akin to peace
seemed to sweep lightly across my skin.
Looking back, it was likely
only the foehn wind
sweeping down from a mountaintop
where I'd never been.
As I write these words,
I see the falsehoods and lies
pouring from the lips of men
as they give their words a spin
not even trying to do what's right.
At least, I've always tried
to share the truth
even when I could not live it.
Surviving is something;
trying perhaps a little more.
I only hope that in some way
I've shown someone the Door.
© Copyright 2010 Karen M. Crump
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