Fearing the Flood

finally she sits
finally she rests
tiny trails of woe bustle behind
those blue sky eyes
even now in the quiet
paired with the ticking of the clock
she holds them back
fearing the flood
from which she cannot swim

Heaviness seems to have found its bed for the night…on my heart. Holidays are hard.  I miss my mom…but then again I don’t miss the hurt. I do not miss my father…while maybe I should (no, I should not).  Dreams for my children sometimes lost in the “have nots” of family.

A bowl full of rocks turned to heavy.  This weight I carry.  And so I write…

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