11-04-2013, 03:00 AM | #1 |
Half-Elven Princess of Rabbit Trails and Harp-Wielding Administrator (beware the Rubber Chicken of Doom!)
Join Date: Sep 2002
Location: Not where I want to be ...
Posts: 15,254
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hard times ...
I've never written poetry (at least since I was forced to in school) but I was reading some poems on a medical discussion board that I'm on, and I wanted to try and get these thoughts into words. I'm sorry, but it's really a downer - I'm going thru some pretty awful times now as many of you know - my own very serious health issues where I have constant pain and debilitating fatigue, plus my son's severe physical handicap, plus this last year, my daughter contracting a very rare and very serious nerve illness.
The Undertaker "Mom, I like when you wear make-up!" I hear my daughter say, and groan (inwardly; why give her more pain than she already has? The other girls in her class have moms that smile and move around lightly; fleet, happy birds whose movements are thoughtless and carefree, instead of greedily hoarded then carefully spent, movement by precious movement, as a miser hoards rare and costly things). This means 5 less minutes of precious rest; but ... it also means a little gift for my daughter, who has fewer daily presents under her tree than those other girls; but these presents are bought with more costly currency. So I get up, moving past the pain (or through the pain or with the pain, for I can't move past it) to my dressing-table, where I lay out the tools of my outward beauty. Soft, creamy foundation, that smooths out the blotches and softens the lines of pain and fatigue; Warm brown eyeshadows, and soft, dark liner to give sparkle to eyes that are dulled; Mascara to conceal the lashes that are gone (along with other, more precious things); Soft lipstick to brighten a smile (God, help me to remember to smile!) and my mother's perfume (this last is for me; the scent envelops me like her arms; a soft, warm, gentle embrace that doesn't hurt because it isn't real). I lay out the tools - and start painting the corpse.
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. I should be doing the laundry, but this is MUCH more fun! Ñá ë?* óú éä ïöü Öñ É Þ ð ß ® ç Ã¥ â„¢ æ ♪ ?* "How lovely are Thy dwelling places, O Lord of hosts! ... For a day in Thy courts is better than a thousand outside." (from Psalm 84) * * * God rocks! Entmoot : Veni, vidi, velcro - I came, I saw, I got hooked! Ego numquam pronunciare mendacium, sed ego sum homo indomitus! Run the earth and watch the sky ... Auta i lómë! Aurë entuluva! Last edited by RÃan : 11-04-2013 at 03:02 AM. |
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