Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Cutting Apron Strings

Oh! The pain!
Doesn't she love me anymore?
How can he just ignore me?
Why doesn't she even call?

We were so close.
Have I done something wrong?
He passes by me as if I wasn't even there,
and spends his time with others.

She replies, "I'm ok", when I ask how she is doing.
That's it. Nothing more.
My queries are met with, "I said, I'm fine."
Why is she shutting me out of her life?

I love them so much!
I just want to council and guide them
through these perilous times
and land them safely on the shore of adulthood.

But, in time, I realize that this is a voyage
that must be charted by the ship's captain,
not by his mother.

She needs me to always love her.
He needs me to have confidence in him.
They need me to cheer them on,
and to be there in emergencies.

But the time has come to give up
my active involvement in their lives.
It is time to step back.
Though, sooner than I was ready,
the time has come
to cut the apron strings.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Of Ants and Grasshoppers

I am an Ant.
I work

I am a Grasshopper.
I play

I am an Ant.
I am responsible.
I make things.

I am a Grasshopper.
I am imaginative.
I create ideas.

I am the Ant.
I do things
with precision.
I am the engineer.

I am the Grasshopper.
I do things
with flair!
I am the scientist.

I am the Ant
The world needs me
to build it’s bridges,
to bake it’s bread,
to heal it’s sick.

I am the Grasshopper.
The world needs me
to paint it’s pictures,
sing it’s songs,
and write it’s stories

I am the Ant.
I make the world

I am the Grasshopper.
I make the world

Friday, October 14, 2016

For Us

by Cheryl Merrick

He shops, cleans, does laundry,
and pays bills "for us".
Allowing me the quiet time
I need to study and think,
 so I can write "for us".

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

A Writer's Life

I thought I'd write in my spare time,
perhaps late at night
when everyone is in bed
and all my "work" is done.

So dutifully I pushed though the day,
doing all the little things which "must be done",
until I found myself too exhausted to write
when evening finally came.

At last, I came to understand
that writing is not something
to check off,
but a way of life.

It requires constant thought,
hours of research,
and spiritual nourishment.

It requires a life uncluttered
by materialistic concerns,
and constant busyness.

It is nurtured by quiet hours
spent in meditation
and walking in nature.

It requires the love
to vulnerably share your talent
and a dedication to make a better world.

It involves a deep sense of responsibility
and keen awareness
that what you say,
and what you withhold,
may influence lives.

Not writing leads to a life unfulfilled,
shadowed by the knowledge that
I will be held accountable
for those I could have helped,
but did not.

Writing is a way of life,
a gift from God
to be shared with the world.
Writing is an expression who I am.
Writing is the life I live.

Life Fulfilled

Simple food
Simple home
Few things, much time
Few commitments, much love
Quiet and peace
Sunshine and beauty
My spirit nourished
A thought shared
A person inspired
My daily work done
I rest calm and still
My life Fulfilled