Tell Me Where You Are

"I have lost you -the pain is hard to bear
Do I have to go through life knowing you're not there?
 I sit here and remember all the lovely times we shared
   the talks- the laughter- of every one you cared.
 I am told the pain will ease in time and I will think of you without a tear
 but that will be impossible as I need to have you here.
You were the very world to me - my ever guiding star
 Just kiss me softly on the cheek and tell me where you are."

Poetry

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break." ~William Shakespeare--- Poetry has always been able to move me to tears, moreso than any other medium of expression with the possible exception of music. My thanks to those who post these beautiful poems. They give us insight, and the realization that others feel as we often feel, even those with the remarkable gift of putting those feelings into words that rock the soul.---- Wave of sorrow, Do not drown me now: I see the island Still ahead somehow. I see the island And its sands are fair: Wave of sorrow, Take me there. -Langston Hughes

2 am

Insomnia:

Chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time. 

Sleep Deprivation:

A form of psychological torture inflicted by depriving the victim of sleep. 

Depression:

The condition of feeling sad or despondent. 

Clinical Depression:

A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia (an inability to experience pleasure), feelings of extreme sadness, guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death. 

Grief:

Deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement.

Stages of Grief:

Denial-
Anger-
Bargaining-
Depression-stuck here
Acceptance-

I measure every Grief I meet
by Emily Dickinson

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes –
I wonder if It weighs like Mine –
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long –
Or did it just begin –
I could not tell the Date of Mine –
It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –
And if They have to try –
And whether – could They choose between –
It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –
At length, renew their smile –
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –
Some Thousands – on the Harm –
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve –
Enlightened to a larger Pain –
In Contrast with the Love –

The Grieved – are many – I am told –
There is the various Cause –
Death – is but one – and comes but once –
And only nails the eyes –

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –
A sort they call "Despair" -
There's Banishment from native Eyes –
In sight of Native Air –

And though I may not guess the kind –
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –

To note the fashions – of the Cross –
And how they're mostly worn –
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –

Loneliness

"At times we can feel a sense of loneliness even when we are surrounded by many people. Sri Chinmoy suggests that we feel lonely when we use our mind to separate ourselves from other people. It is easy for the mind to be negative and when we are in a negative state of mind our ego comes to the fore, this is when we are likely to feel more lonely. Furthermore loneliness does not help us in any way but only contributes to our unhappiness.

The cure for loneliness is to use the qualities of the heart to stop judging things and to cultivate happiness."

Easy for you to say....I do not use my mind to seperate myself  from people...death has seperated me.."He slowly took his final breath, 'twas me, my dear, who died a death."

Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth.

For a crowd is not company,

and faces are but a gallery of pictures,

and talk but a tinkling cymbal,

where there is no love.

peaceful, scenic drives around our part of Al. and nearby Tn.

Countryside by Chris Row

Shafts of light
Through cathedral windows,
Dappled shade
Upon the leaves
Beneath my feet,

Bird song
In the branches above.
In the distance
Hind and fawn
Cross the forest track.


The sweet fragrance of autumn
Fills the misty air,
A gentle breeze
Moving colours
To forest floor.

So precious
Such beauty,
So hard to find
Such peaceful sanctuary.