POETRY 2001

I'm coming to the end of my 2001 poems, pulled out of my blue giraffe journal that sat faithfully by my pillow recording my dreams, nightmares, ravings, despair and faith for so much of that very long distressing year.

I was desperately packing, trying to find someplace for Sam and I to go to get out of the house that used to be our home, where now I was so unwelcome and reviled.

It was Christmastime last year.

FREE

I am not what you think of me.
Your anger, pain, hatred and disdain are you,
not me.

This cold, controlling bitch
you paint exists only in your head.

You haven't seen my truth for ages.
You say my heart shuts like a flytrap,
but you were there when it was open.

Long years you ignored and neglected me.
I tried. I cried. I lingered in that limbo.

I am acting from my heart,
with integrity and compassion.

I am trying to be still, to be loving
to be strong for my son and for myself.

Open to the universe
with all its blessings and teachings.

Our darkest days
often reveal our most precious gifts.

In the midst of turmoil
I am free.

Dec 1st, 2001