In the distance are the multitudes
Each blemished with their own scars from yesterday
Yet burned by the same light that kept them looking up
Hope is powerful
It hems together the same fabric once torn by heartache
We all hold it within our breast like a blanket
Some keep holding on
others let go.
Note: I guess today I am offering a bit of a sad poem. I tend to veer away from such realities, but I guess the sad news is, they are realities. Having had a mother that suffered from addiction, and depression due to by-polar disorder, I saw this at a very young age. Tomorrow will be the anniversary of the day my mother passed away back in 1972. I spent many years holding a deep anger over i t. Then when I became a mother, I truly grieved. Now, I cherish the thought of her, and hope to be all the beautiful things that she truly was in this life.
