Blue expandingcrisp whiteof tiny sails –horizon The lull is gentlelucidity swellingserenity present How safe it isto imagine limitlessnesswhen I am groundedbreast to railinganchored ashore. (Image my own)
Is it selfishthis chosen solitude?How I treasure silence,stillness baiting my muse And is it my calmthat attracts chaos?The sorrow of otherslanding on my doorstep What if I rejected pleas,locked out the troubles?How long can I sustainpeace until need answers? (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Does illness have a voice,and if so; is it melancholy,or dark and dank, divulgingdeepest despair, or revealinga vileness of nature? Discord creeps along my veins,disrupts muscles, systems failingunder the oppression –“Stay strong,” friends counsel,cannot hear the gathering storm,feel the heaviness cloaking me. I am not myself, but then;who am I? Is disease a mutationof the […]
One Woman's Quest II 
I can agree to that stitch a new garment thought but can we do this?
As a one single unit?
I doubt that.
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Me too. But without inspiration to guide us, we won’t try.
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Yes, you are right 🙂
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A hard truth to accept that normal never was, but truth it is.
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Amen! 🌸
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Amen to that! And I agree, this is our opportunity to change for the better.
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…stitch a new garment…. Exactly right. Thank you for sharing this.
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My pleasure, Andrea.
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