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when I think of death_maya angelou.jpg

Everyone who has ever lost someone that they loved deeply has a story.  Details may sound the same, and, we who have had that same experience, can recognize them.  Our empathic natures mean we can see the pain exposed, as well as hidden, because we have had our hearts broken.

But, while we can empathize with a gentle touch, or a nod of the head, a hug, or the gift of listening, we cannot rush someone else.  We cannot say “Life goes on” or trite comments meant to shortchange the depth of grief.  In the madness of mourning, it is cruel and meaningless.

This is not a time of rational thought.  It is brutal.  It is beyond imagination.  Those who seek to minimize it know nothing of the person, the great footprint that they leave behind, nor how we cannot mentally process how time can keep on moving.

Let someone else grieve in their own time and way.  Do not put limits or expectations upon them that you yourself could never match, or have never actually been tested upon. It should not be the intent to listen so that one can relate their own history.  Genuine empathy means that each person has their own story and deserves the time and space to relate it.  Even as the details tear them apart, we are witnesses to that pain, and support, quietly, that which is beyond our comprehension.


Thank you for stopping by.  I have many thoughts that have gone through my mind, but hesitated to write.  I have wondered if sharing my ideas meant that I would be adding to the overflow of messages we quickly sift through each day.  But, I am trying to be brave.

So, for the month of December, I thought I would try to create booster shots of empathy for the many topics that cross my thoughts and stir my emotions.  I hope that you will be patient; if you don’t like one, perhaps another will be the right dose to help you, or someone else, who needs a little extra attention.  Either way, please feel free to share, because I would love to hear what you have to say when it is the right time for you to join in.


heart uplifting

You are not your age,
Nor the size of the clothes you wear,
You are not a weight,
Or the colour of your hair.
You are not your name,
Or the dimples in your cheeks,
You are all the books you read,
And all the words you speak,
You are your croaky morning voice,
And the smiles you try to hide,
You’re the sweetness in your laughter,
And every tear you’ve cried,
You’re the songs you sing so loudly,
When you know you’re all alone
You’re the places that you’ve been to,
And the one that you call home,
You’re the things that you believe in,
And the people that you love,
You’re the photos in your bedroom,
And the future you dream of,
You’re made of so much beauty,
But it seems that you forgot,
When you decided that you were defined,
By all the things you’re not.

~~ Ernest Hemingway

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.”

starry night sky

LULLABY by Dorothy Parker

Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you;
Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams.
Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkness is holding you;
Starlight bespangles the way of your dreams.
Chorus the nightingales, wistfully amorous;
Blessedly quiet, the blare of the day.
All the sweet hours may your visions be glamorous-
Sleep, pretty lady, as long as you may.

Sleep, pretty lady, the night shall be still for you;
Silvered and silent, it watches you rest.
Each little breeze, in its eagerness, will for you
Murmur the melodies ancient and blest.
So in the midnight does happiness capture us;
Morning is dim with another day’s tears.
Give yourself sweetly to images rapturous-
Sleep, pretty lady, a couple of years.

Sleep, pretty lady, the world awaits day with you;
Girlish and golden, the slender young moon.
Grant the fond darkness its mystical way with you;
Morning returns to us ever too soon.
Roses unfold, in their loveliness, all for you;
Blossom the lilies for hope of your glance.
When you’re awake, all the men go and fall for you-
Sleep, pretty lady, and give me a chance.

Thank you so much for visiting! Dorothy Parker was so much more talented than given credit for. I found this poem beautifully described the crescents and valleys of our sleep and dreams. I hope that you enjoy it as well.

dream 22

The Dream Keeper

Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.

By Langston Hughes

Thank you for stopping by! I hope that you enjoy your visit. This is part of a trio of Langston Hughes dream poems and the second in a Dreams photographic triptych.

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