Down to Bed, Up to Heaven

Down to Bed, Up to Heaven

Now I lay me

Down to bed,

Closing mine eyes, I

Rest my weary head.

If breath doth fail

Before I awaken,

I do presume, then

My soul to be

Taken

Away from the

Misery

And life’s woes,

No longer worrying

O’er mere earthly foes.

The battle was fought,

The battle was won–

My Lord greets me,

“Dear Friend–

Well Done.”

 

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In loving memory of Jane Moore, mother, grandmother, sister and mother-in-law. Passed away the eve of Sept. 25th, 2018, EST. Age: 87.

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Image Credit:

http://willoughbyandassociates.com/tools/puerta-del-cielo.php

 

 

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Trigger Finger (previously entitled, “Trigger’d”)

Trigger Finger (previously entitled, “Trigger’d”)

Red

Is all I see

Reflecting off the comments,

Right back at me.

My heart revs like a

Car doing seventy

In a thirty; my

Hands quake, as though

Naught could

Slake

My nerves’ anxiety.

 

The words, so

Carelessly

Typed–

Weren’t they out

Of angst, anger, or some

Other injustice, even

Murder?–

Pierc’d my vessel

Straight to my

Soul,

Making my skin

Flush more crimson

Than hot coals;

My shaky hands, I try

To control

Because

If I do

Not

Then my

Whole

Being

And Nature

Is subject

To the

Sin.

 

I swallow, I weep,

I breathe, then

After

Thought…

Delete.

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Image Credit:

The Statue

The Statue

I saw sitting on

The porch swing today

A small bird that had

Yet to fly away.

Speck’ld and still,

It must have

Taken

Great skill

And courage

To stay put.

To be curt, I

I thought it

Had been hurt,

Or even

Deceas’d,

For its verbos’ty

And movements

Had near but

Ceas’d.

I got close, just a pinch

But the still little

Bird

Did not even flinch.

I sat down

On the swing,

But the brave avian

Had moved not a wing.

It watched me with

The watchful blink,

I had to wonder,

What to think.

bird1

Fear

(TRIGGER WARNING: This poem encompasses some of my darkest, inner fears, from a formerly depressive and suicidal-thinking young woman. I would never actually physically do this to myself, but I won’t lie and say I’ve never been tempted to do so, to protect myself in a bizarre, harmful fashion. It is entirely possible to guess my primary fear from this poem alone.)

 

***It claws at

Me,

Hungry,

Caged,

Trapped

Inside; a monster

Yearning for

Release.***

 

I peer into the

Depths

Of the mirror; A

Wide set of

Gray, shifting

Eyes, rimmed

With long

Dark

Lashes

Peer back; I

Gently trace my curves

With my knife,

Knowing

What must be

Done.

I make the scarring

Incisions, one by

One, til the

Deed

Is finally

Done.

Scars and bruises,

I am bloodied-up

Refuse;

The natural rouge

Shall be my new

Look, lashes snipped off the

Lids, little jagged lines running

All across

My lips.

Dagger marks around my

Thighs,

With my knife handy, I’ve

Cut down twice my

Size.

Chunks of hair

Ripped, chopped out

Without a

Care

In the entire world.

No longer lovely,

But no longer

In

Harm’s

Way.

 

Beauty can so

Easily become

A target

For men to

Market,

Or to just

To take

And never

Give, but if I

Want to

Live

Not just survive, it

Is not enough

To remain

Only alive.

 

I breathe.

I believe

That

.

.

.

I

Am

Safe

Now.

 

***Author’s note: The first stanza is told from another perspective. Contrary to the belief of some, I do not have a fear of men; I know, just like women, they are a barrel of mixed apples– some good, others bad. I have met both, and often befriended some of the good ones. I have brothers, biological and in Christ. This is not meant to be taken as a feminist rant against those men, as I do not consider myself a feminist by today’s standards, no, especially by today’s standards. This is not a poem against men, rather, it is a poem fearful of a particular sin that men can commit. I do not know why I was called to share these darker thoughts with you, only that I was led to do so. I have many similar thoughts, but again, have never acted on any of them. Love the sinner, despise the sin, and do not let the monster grow within. ***

 

 

The Temple

The Temple

As I

Awaken

As daylight peeks

Through

My curtains, I

Slowly open my

Eyes,

Gazing intently

At

My hands, the

Lineaments and

Ligaments, so carefully

Crafted, the

Bones, the tendons

Come alive and

Move

Without the

Slightest

Conscious

Command.

 

My lids close.

I wonder how it will

Feel

When this form no

Longer

Radiates heat, when

It is cold–

Colder than

Frostbite–

It will no longer

Contain

My essence,

It will no longer

Contain

Me.

I shall not hover,

Not float,

Among the still-living,

But soar

Through the open skies, until

My eyes again open,

And

See Paradise, on the

Other side.

With the One Who

Formed

This Vessel and I,

Awaiting my presence,

My Being,

ME…

On the other side.

 

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Image Credit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/90846117453405927/?lp=true

The Lemon Test

The Lemon Test

As I

Squeeze,

Juice comes

Flowing and

Pouring out

From the

Pulp;

In mass amounts,

Squirting and

Spraying

Me

With

Sticky,

Tart-tainted,

Seed

Ridden

Juices, which

All but

Stings my eyes,

And yet I put

My elbow

Grease

Into it:

For what?

Stinging eyes and

What kind of aftertaste?

A tart heart

And a sticky, oh so

Icky

GPA?

 

The juices drip,

The paper sips

My efforts from my

Rinds

My whole being,

My pulp-mind

Has been sucked dry.

 

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Image Credit:

https://food.ndtv.com/food-drinks/10-amazing-lemon-benefits-why-you-should-have-more-its-generous-squeeze-1407154

Mimi

When we first got you

You were a ball of

Fluff;

A giant stuffed animal

I could plop on my

Lap;

You loved your polar bear

Toy, tugging and chewing

With great joy…

Gone.

 

You grew and got bigger, and

Some swore

That they’d never, ever seen

A real polar bear

Before

You arrived at our door;

Rebelliously crossing the road, it’s

A miracle you weren’t flattened

Like a toad.

Gone.

Mimi4

Up on Moore Hill, surveying her kingdom

You ran away that one winter,

After a deer,

Or perhaps you stole someone’s fancy,

And they took you from here.

I was but 12,

I cried and cried;

I told Boopy I thought you had died.

Then you came back from the

Amish, praise the Lord;

And immediately began to play

With Boopy;

I guess you were bored.

Gone.

 

Remember when

You’d hunt groundhogs?

They were your prizes and

Delight;

Sometimes, I wonder,

If you stayed into the night

Hunting,

Bringing us your now-inanimate

Toys

Which were burned, lest you

Also use them

For perfume that

You think you earned.

Gone.

Mimi3

Investigating our fire pit up on Moore Hill. She would make a similar motion with groundhog holes, sticking her face inside, and shuffling it around until she found it.

 

You’d prance down to aunt Luella’s to

Kick up a fuss;

Treating their dogs’ turf as yours, making

A big ol’ ruckus.

You upheld the honorary rivalry

That came between the

Predecessors,

Dolly and Sparky.

Gone.

 

If I was sad,

You’d want to know why;

You didn’t understand,

But you could not

Stand

To see me cry.

You’d nuzzle

Me until I caved;

I stroked you until

Every drop of

Affection

I gave

Was yours.

Mimi5

In her usual position, in our front living room. 

 

You’d follow us hither and thither, through

Mountain and valley;

Herding your little “flock,”

Was right up your alley.

You’d always look back, always

Wait,

To ensure we were keeping up with

Your quick-trotting gait.

Through the years your pace slow’d,

And you had to keep up

With the ones you once show’d

The right way to go.

And then, suddenly

You could no

Longer go

Through the neighborhood,

To Grandma’s,

Even out in your snow.

Your hips hind’ring,

You struggled to

Rise;

You avoided even

The herd inside.

You wond’red

Where the

Little Herdlings went

If only I could show you

We were

Temporarily sent

To school, not

Forever

Gone.

Mimi1

Last day with Mimi– the Saturday the week before she was euthanized

 

They say there’s a

Place up there

For special animals, who

Were deeply cherish’d

With love and care.

A place where she can trot, and

Not worry about

If her bones rot;

A place where

She and Boopy can bark and play,

Angels joining in, forever and always.

She’ll follow a new Shepherd,

The One Who made her;

The One Who comforts her

Herd that was

Left behind.

 

Loved, yet never truly left.

Gone, but never forgotten.

 

In Loving Memory of Daisy “Mimi” Moore:

Great Prynees, pureblood, received from family friend Dr. Valez, the same doctor we received Boopy from. 

Euthanized Friday, 2nd February 2018 due to lymphoma, starvation (would not eat due to depression and tumors in throat), dehydration, dislocated hip and extreme suffering at approximately 4pm EST. 

Your Herd will always remember and love you deeply. May you find forever happiness with Dolly, Boopy, and Jesus. Rest in peace, and suffer pain no more. Sissy has always loved you, and always will. 

Mimi2