In Waiting

She sits in waiting

The room appears to be warm, living

the toys strewn across the room, play

the dog running outside, freedom

it’s all an illusion because here she sits and she waits…..

are the kids across the street? are they out of earshot?

they are…. okay…

THEY are okay

she waits, here he comes

what will it be this time? a word, an object, or some other physical expression of the pain he so desperately wants to get rid of

but all he can do is transfer it, momentarily.

“Why are you here? ”

(oh, it’s words this time.)


(*sigh* Leave?…how I wish I could)


“I won’t leave, I am here for you, we are in this together”

“LEAVE! GET OUT! You don’t want to stay, you’re like EVERYBODY ELSE!”

“No, I’m not! I love you! Why can’t you see I am here, I am doing the best I can”

“Hmph…. sucks to be you then, go ahead, stay. You will leave though, it’s just a matter of time”

“I will stay and you will see I am not like everybody else”

Okay, well c’mon let’s go for a drive to the coast, go wipe up your face and grab the kids. Let’s enjoy our day.

(Whew…I’m glad it was just words this time, my neck, it’s still sore from the last time. He will get better, he just needs help)

She waits……..



Not all illusions are sad or upsetting, some are fun. I found this one and thought you guys might like it. There are more at the website in the link below, I just chose this one because I love elephants. 🙂—literally/







past things

the water can’t get hot enough to burn away the pain

the music not loud enough to drown away the thoughts

how do you escape the torment of a past that comes to haunt you

it comes at night, when the house is quiet                                                                      during the bustle of the day by the words of a stranger or the sound of a slamming door.   It comes through the actions of ones you love, who know not how to protect you.         This form of anguish, it’s a battle within, a fight to be fought each day only seen by the one tormented.

A day of healing is what is hoped for what is longed for after each nightmare,after each bout of contemptible thoughts of past things endured.                                                    striving to become more than just a shadow of your former self, desiring to be full and bright, thriving in the freedom that appears to be in front of you but keeps escaping

stretching, reaching, grasping for something to bring you into the freedom you so desire.

What, who, will save me from this agony that my mind has let go of but

my heart and my body remember so vividly?