Sunsets and Memories

Sunsets, like childhood, are viewed with wonder not just because they are beautiful but because they are fleeting.” ― Richard Paul Evans, The Gift

Sunsets, like empires and memories of love long ago, fade slow; first brilliant, then warm, and finally passing to silk brocade on black velvet.  How much more beautiful they are in memory when the busy moments of planning and passing through life have stilled.

We’ve Been Liebstered!

“We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land. It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is: each the other’s opposite and complement.”
― Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund

We’ve been Liebstered!

We recently received our first award here at Survivors Blog Here from Rob Goldstein. Rob’s blog,  Art by Rob Goldstein, is a collection of writing, poetry, art, and photographs that support his theme of living with dissociative identity disorder (DID) and the right to full access to health care for people with mental illnesses.  Rob’s many works give us a close-up view of the struggle with DID and the challenges of health care for chronic illness.  Rob’s talent and honest forthright approach humanizes this struggle by bringing it out into the light and showing us the face of a spirit that strives to live a normal and productive life, to gain acceptance by dispelling fear and judgement, and to educate us with a gentle touch and calm tone.  Thank you Rob! You are an inspiration and a true Liebster in the WordPress community.

STICKS and STONES by Topaz Winters

One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered. ― Michael J. Fox

“I sometimes pretend I’m a Phoenix” – Topaz Winters, from Sticks and Stones

 

It’s my pleasure to bring you another poem submitted by Topaz Winters. Her poem takes us inside the maelstrom of a wounded spirit stuck between feeling the reality of unrelenting anguish from abuse, trauma, abandonment, and the dream of love and life as first imagined. The journey to healing is never swift or without setbacks captured in the line, “I sometimes pretend I’m a phoenix.” Topaz’s advocacy for survivors and awareness is greatly appreciated.  Topaz offered her poem as a tribute to the readers and authors that know abuse and trauma all too well. Thank you for your continued support, Topaz.  And now, dear reader, I submit to you, Sticks and Stones by Topaz Winters.

A Faded Rose

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. ― Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

In a follow on to my side trip into aging gracefully, I made a few tweaks to this previous post to give a snapshot into the thoughts one has for a loved one as they grow old together and frailty begins to pull one away from the other.

The metaphor of life from a faded rose in my garden struck me one day as I watched it fade, almost over night.  Memories of youth and life played like a song in my mind even though the words played hide and seek as I searched my mind to no avail to remember dates, names, and faces of those long gone. How our lives fade came to me all too clear in that moment through the lens when the rose came into focus.

The End of War

This is a repost of a chapter from one of my short stories.  It wasn’t very popular as far as likes, comments or views. It seems counter intuitive to beat that old dead horse again here.  I replay it because much is said about post traumatic stress disorder in service members but it’s not well understood by the public.  It can manifest years after the event as the memories suddenly drift in like a cold breeze through a forgotten open door.  Internal dialog of scenes long forgotten play out when and wherever they will – triggered by a thought, sound, a vision, a taste or smell.

Suddenly Alone

Survivors Blog Here is pleased to welcome Guest Contributor Heather at The Starting End.   Heather was first featured here with her poem, “Night,” a look into the grip of restive dreams.  She spun waking dreams in the reader’s mind with a soft touch and vivid imagery.  Heather’s talent at expressing love and life through poetry and prose is a masterful stroke from the artist’s soft sable brush. 

Today we want to share Heather’s personal insight into her eventual discovery of a new life after the unfortunate loss of her husband in, “Suddenly Alone.”  Recovery from trauma and loss can take years.  Each person is different and must take whatever time necessary to come to grips with the truth of their life’s story.  At some point we realize we are no longer walking our path looking over our shoulder but lightly afoot, eyes forward to a new horizon with untold promise of brighter things to come.  Please enjoy, “Suddenly Alone,” and visit Heather’s website. You will understand why we are so excited to have her as our guest.

A special thanks to Randstein for writing the beautiful introduction.   XO M

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SUDDENLY ALONE

Suddenly alone, we find ourselves. Be it from divorce or perhaps death, the chapter of our lives that we never read in our imaginary “Book of My Life” now puts on an unknown page.

Midnight Letters by Topaz Winters

I would like to introduce to you, dear reader, a gifted young lady that I’ve followed since I began blogging.  Topaz Winters is a young novelist, singer, and song writer whose contributions to the world’s music, literature, and poetry is indicative of an ancient and wise soul.  She works tirelessly at her passion for the arts while balancing a busy life.   Recently, She dedicated her poem, Midnight Letters, to the writers on Survivors Blog Here and our readers. 

A Child in the Garden of Darkness and Light

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once she grows up.”

― Pablo Picasso

Grandpa, why did you hide all the pink markers under the couch? To teach you to use other colors my dear child. Watch your lines…

My grand-daughter is seven and has been an avid art student since she first painted an epic battle scene between dots, circles, and lines on my living room wall at one year old.  She is a fifth generation student of the Garden of Darkness and Light. Her grand parents have immersed her in music, art, writing, math, science, and literature.

A Walk With Eternity

“We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.” ― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

 

I promised myself long ago that my life would be a walk with eternity.  I didn’t pray to be spared sickness, heartache or any dark moment life can bring.  When those dark moments found me, I never prayed for the light, a cure, a way around.  I prayed for strength to carry on.