From My Heart
emamei
Member Posts: 146
When my husband and I got married (11 years ago on June 10th) we shared a portion of a beloved Robert Browning poem, "Rabbi Ben Ezra", that reads
"GROW old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, ``A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!''
I have written poetry for many years, since I was a young child. I write when the moment of inspiration grabs me. Since my BC diagnosis last September when my journey began I have written more poetry that I have in the last several years. I wrote a poem a few days ago that I titled - From My Heart. I wrote it as a reflection of my journey and it ends with a promise made 11 years ago this June 10th. I'm sure my husband won't mind me sharing it with you here.
Looking through the glasses of time
Moments remembered, fragments of mind
From the beginning of a lifetime
Glimpses of pieces entwined
Sunlit days and fears forgotten
Short lived dreams that now beckon
Images, voices long since gone
In dreams so real awakened by dawn
Steps taken along life’s winding roads
Have led to where all explodes
Like a puzzle thrown into the air
Pieces of my life scattered everywhere
Stripped down to the core of my very being
Piece by piece I must work at restoring
From deep within where spirit sleeps
To the outside wherein the body weeps
For lost opportunities, stolen boundaries
Days taken for granted, blurred sceneries
Nights haunted by the darkest memories
Moments of strength, moments of weakness
Longing to overcome the bleakness
Questioning beliefs once held strong
Wondering where my faith belongs
The universe perhaps or myself alone
Mind or spirit, flesh or bone
All together form who I am – human
Daughter, wife, mother, - woman
Head held high in spite of the scars
My body bares the marks of wars
Some already fought and won
Fighting now, I will not be beaten
The enemy you see, is fear within me
The cancer is my body’s blight
But it is fear that grabs me at night
I lay awakened, shook to the core,
Wondering through tears how much more
I say to myself, I am healed and cured
I say it in mantra until I’m assured
I drift again into deep rest
I face a new day with a request...
“Grow old along with me,
The best is yet to be...”
A promise made so long ago,
One we shall never, ever forgo.
Maria A. May 7, 2011
"GROW old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in his hand
Who saith, ``A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!''
I have written poetry for many years, since I was a young child. I write when the moment of inspiration grabs me. Since my BC diagnosis last September when my journey began I have written more poetry that I have in the last several years. I wrote a poem a few days ago that I titled - From My Heart. I wrote it as a reflection of my journey and it ends with a promise made 11 years ago this June 10th. I'm sure my husband won't mind me sharing it with you here.
Looking through the glasses of time
Moments remembered, fragments of mind
From the beginning of a lifetime
Glimpses of pieces entwined
Sunlit days and fears forgotten
Short lived dreams that now beckon
Images, voices long since gone
In dreams so real awakened by dawn
Steps taken along life’s winding roads
Have led to where all explodes
Like a puzzle thrown into the air
Pieces of my life scattered everywhere
Stripped down to the core of my very being
Piece by piece I must work at restoring
From deep within where spirit sleeps
To the outside wherein the body weeps
For lost opportunities, stolen boundaries
Days taken for granted, blurred sceneries
Nights haunted by the darkest memories
Moments of strength, moments of weakness
Longing to overcome the bleakness
Questioning beliefs once held strong
Wondering where my faith belongs
The universe perhaps or myself alone
Mind or spirit, flesh or bone
All together form who I am – human
Daughter, wife, mother, - woman
Head held high in spite of the scars
My body bares the marks of wars
Some already fought and won
Fighting now, I will not be beaten
The enemy you see, is fear within me
The cancer is my body’s blight
But it is fear that grabs me at night
I lay awakened, shook to the core,
Wondering through tears how much more
I say to myself, I am healed and cured
I say it in mantra until I’m assured
I drift again into deep rest
I face a new day with a request...
“Grow old along with me,
The best is yet to be...”
A promise made so long ago,
One we shall never, ever forgo.
Maria A. May 7, 2011
0
Comments
-
Maria
I see we have some very talented poets here on this board. That was truly beautiful. You guys should really look into getting your poems published. Now where's that tissue box?
Lorrie0 -
Thank youbutterflylvr said:Maria
I see we have some very talented poets here on this board. That was truly beautiful. You guys should really look into getting your poems published. Now where's that tissue box?
Lorrie
I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Thank you for such an encouraging compliment.0 -
Beautiful...
Beautiful...0
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