I’m sharing this piece for world mental health day. I hope the Spirit of pushing through falls on every reader.
This is the first chapter of my first self published book ,Butterscotch Blossom. This chapter is based on my life events and penned from the inspiration from the words and love of my family who pushed and revived me through a scary life moment before I gave up on myself.
The Tunnel-page 1
When I realized my plague would show no resistance
Buried my head down in my arms,
I needed to be free.
I saw a light pole above my dashboard,
Her wings start way above the clouds,
And drag all the way down to the ground beside my body at my feet.
My angel attended to my Spirit
But through her eyes I can translate,
That she’s speaking glory into my life,
She watched me slide down from the heavens,
more vibrant than lightning storms,
And birthing life into my still body
So I could be reborn.
But her mind cannot fathom,
That she was made already in bountiful bloom
I feel her blood pump with every heartbeat,
I feel her eye lashes meet with each blink.
I wail with her trouble of emotions,
She’s more than the ocean drops in every sea.
I saw the event come years before it happened.
I heard her mind singing those weary songs to her,
Just seconds before those wheels stopped spinning
I’d been preparing to aid her for years now
I heard every word.
I took some brightness from the stars,
I took everything I needed from the heavens
With the way she sporadically lived life,
How could this human made to perfection
Not know that all her souls’ desires
and it frightens me
She saved my life
She gave me back my goals.
To keep her fervent in any heartbreak,
And let her laugh so much she don’t lose no sleep.
She took my breath away in 91’
If you ever go away
You would take my whole world.
Her lips so pink Her
smile’s so big, She’s my little baby doll.
Because I held her in my arms
Even when I didn’t have permission.
Because I watched over sissy
When we were kids,
Many a day, home alone in the summer I’d cooked for my babydoll,
Because she wasn’t allowed on the stove.
Sometimes I took the blame when baby doll did it.
And kiss her like she’s still 3 days old
Mama’s hands are small hands,
But they aren’t the kind of hands that are incredibly soft.
Mama keeps me fighting.
couldn’t sleep while I was away at college…..
Mama would call in an instant to pray for me.
nothingness, to non-existence….
though life scared me so.
no matter what, through the woman I am.
I stopped because those hands that pray for me started to show up in
my lap when my head was bowed, crying and lost.
cause me harm….
Mamas hands showed up clenched tight on the day I was born,
are unraveling back together.
They keep me fighting
They’ve kept me true