Guilt is a Thief.
When my mind was sick
without hope, confused
I held myself at fault.
My mind judged my life
from when memories began.
I saw no middle ground
to allow me to find
that person I once knew.
My family didn’t know
the person I’d become.
The gates of guilt opened
and I knew I could be
a wife and mother no more.
It was then I looked up
but I felt the barrier
between me and my God.
He must have carried me
on his shoulder, from the
prayers I’d asked of others.
God sat me down
before those who knew me.
They’d seen me many times before
from a slew of other faces.
They gave me medication.
We talked and I cried.
I went back home to my family
from yet another hospital stay.
Very slowly the fog lifted.
My anxiety reduced.
Two years marched by
in slow procession.
Part of me returned.
It didn’t happen fast,
My self-hate slowly dissipated.
Confusion changed to some clarity.
Communication improved.
Changes in my family
began to normalize.
I wanted to feel guilt again
for all I’d put them through.
More talk and med changes.
Slowly guilt became less.
My diagnosis, bipolar
my life normalizing.
Thank God for all those prayers.
gkfralin
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Let the Wind Blow Around You
Sit a moment in silence
Let the wind blow around you
set free the darkness of the world
find your part and play it well.
Worry not, the Lord will guide you.
You may bring peace to one savage soul
or resolution to a problem.
Let the Spirit that is Holy lead you.
For this world of hurt can’t be won
without His intervention.
Find friends of similar fabric
to reach into the darkness
Let the Lord be Master of the hands
that venture forward in peace.
Be calm and listen.
Let the wind blow around you.
G. K. Fralin
I sit alone in a lawn chair
within a shelter overlooking the lake.
I watch my man walk along the bank
where I no longer dare to tread.
I'm not like dead leaves that have fallen.
I am alive with thought.
I see green meet concrete of shelter floor.
Placing my mind in ripples of water,
I float along the top of the water's skin
and let the dampness refresh me.
A forgotten tube beside me
feeds oxygen to damaged lungs.
My mind is clear as a perfect mirror,
God blesses me with a breeze
teasing my nose wish fresh hay
from some farmer's field. The water
smells of boat gas and fish.
I picture myself being hoisted into a boat.
It's a pontoon. I'm given a pole.
I cast it into the unknown muddy depths.
What will I catch today?
My husband walks back to me
with a smile of tender grace
eyes soft as a new lover.
My heart soars above all
as I return to my post in the shelter.
Our Veterans
From before our nation began,
someone has fought for our right
to be who we are without
restriction of a monarchy.
From the day our independence
was declared, the blood
of brave servants have reassured
that we can keep out the dictators.
Peace or war, men and women
have kept this nation together
doing the undoable to retain
our freedom from the insane.
Whether king or traitor,
dictator or terror mongers,
the air over our heads,
the ground under our feet,
the words from our mouths,
and so much more, we owe
to our veterans.
Interlude for a Child (a poem written when my daughters became mothers. The ever continuing cycle of mothers and children.
This Child, made of tears
graces a life in need
of being needed. I am
ever that child, and
always that mother.
A brief interlude
between snivel and laugh
may play the sad
happy songs of souls.
That moment when
my self rests
from weariness of effort
to find a bosom
where I may hide.
Others like me
must have those moments
of not belonging
and cry for comfort.
Help each child
born of tears,
embrace them
to an ample breast
where room for all sobs
of joy, and sorrow reside.
THE RIVER (I grew up and have lived in some proximity of the Big Blue River all my life. This is my salute if you will to a big part of my youth.)
River of my youth
my spring, summer,
and fall; flow past
my door as before.
The muddy bank
chattering waters
and life sustaining
catch of the day
bring a hurrah.
There is a soft,
grassy spot where I lay
gulping your sweet
and sour aroma-
The flop and plop
of carp and catfish
or the horror of gar
are my adventures.
River, you have
followed me
through my travels.
When God calls
I will raft
on His river
of life.
Death by Friendship
Won third place in a contest at Ambiance Artist for the topic: betrayal.
as you climbed out my window.
you did not scoff nor leave
but held my hand as I
asking that I comfort you.
But I ran away.
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