Purple hat

She sits in her chair

needles moving in and out with rhythm

only she hears as her tired hands feed

her purple hat of love.

Her hair falls out piece by piece

until she shears it into emptiness

falling at her feet she knows it will return

someday once more.

Six long months as the winter snow falls

she wears it as she stands beneath the skies

her universe swirling all around her

but her faith guides her forward.

Where has that time gone she wonders

as she tucks the cap away with one last breath

she smells the clean fresh scent

no longer reminiscent of the poisons it once caught.

Reminders of years long gone

and no longer in use it waits patiently

her reminder of love woven into each loop

by her mother’s hand,

she is strong now and free of the murderous cells

and yet she still wonders her purpose

as she writes in the darkness

her hands moving on keys

keeping rhythm to the sound only she hears

as her lullaby to yesterday plays out

and she smiles for she is blessed

and she has not forgotten

the purple hat or all of the love sent

to her through the years.

Reminiscing earlier as I was in a thrift store I saw a cap similar to one my mother made me back when I had cancer. I still have the hat my mom made but was surprised I couldn’t recall the year I went through chemo, was it 9 or 10?years ago? and then thinking it really doesn’t matter for it too (the cancer) was a gift, enabling me to begin writing once more, to look at life much differently and with a peace and joy in my heart, and in knowing there was a higher purpose for me, that I had things to do. Chemo began after Christmas and lasted into June….so long ago, but really in the big scheme of things, such a short bit ago.

Hollow dreams and the loss of words

Through candle lit nights
moon came calling to her soul
whispering secrets,
stories untold.
As gentle winds blew
through the cage she had known
as home for too many years
she could no longer remember
a time when it wasn’t
this way.
Pouring ink from veins of plastic
shavings of pencils strewn
on wooden floors
in the darkness she let rivers flow
drop by drop onto the parchment
that had become her friend.

She came in the light
of a hot August summer sun,
the thief of magic
the liar of sincerity
and one by one lifting
the lined soul pages stacked,
slipped quietly away
back to her world of darkness.
She had not known the worth
of the dreams she held rolled in her hand
letting go in the wind
losing the precious gift
to the fields beyond.

The shell lay hollow and empty
no more dreams to give
no more words to pen,
life moved on as life always did
as the strands upon her head
turned grey like the rain
and the moments that had lived
now lay a whispered memory
and she is empty
yet she knows that someday
the words will return
to be gifted to the young and pure,
kept safe from the hands
of the thief of the soul,
caged in her memory
the words only she can see,
the stories only she can tell.

After reading a beautiful piece of poetry on stories, it brought back memories to me of my mother. When I was child, she would stay up late at night and write out all the wonderful stories she created in her mind for me to read. One day the neighbor girl stole them from me and said she didn’t know where they went to. I don’t remember my mother ever writing the stories down after that. She spun such magic and still does, just not putting pen to paper. Stories that will fade away except in a child’s memory.

5 day photo/story challenge
Laine from over at From Midnight To Dawnlight challenged me to this and I gladly accepted. Here is one of her lovely pieces from when she did the challenge. Stop in and say Hi.
http://frommidnighttodawnlight.com/2015/09/22/memoir-ghost-towers/

Guidelines:
Post a picture each day for five consecutive days. Attach a story to accompany
*can be fiction / non-fiction
*poem / short paragraph
*each day nominate another blogger

Today I nominate a new poetry writing blogger who found me: Gwenice over at the chaser of dreams. Stop in and say hello and explore her lovely poetry.
https://thechaserofdreams.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/numb/ and I also extend an open invitation to all the amazing writers who follow this blog.

*Sporadic posting is alright if you are unable to post each day. There is no obligation to accept this challenge, and I will understand completely if you choose not to take part.

A life of color

She gave to me the gift
Of breath
Of joy
Of dreams that wait
Ever so patiently.
She gave to me a mind
That seeks to be higher
A soul that finds peace
And a love that knows no end.
She gave to me a moment
To call my own
Beneath bright lights
A singular cry to mark
The coming
Of a child.
She gave to me her love
And filled me with laughter
With happiness and good
And today I realize
As each year marks in passing
The moment I became
Without the gift of her effort
I would not be.
I live a life of color
Where inspiration is found
With each page that turns
And each step taken
I am blessed to be alive
For yet another year to see
So many great and amazing things
And new discoveries yet to be.
Thank you to my mother for creating me
And thank you world for allowing me
To remain for a while more
To spread my gifts
To The world.

Thoughts on another birthday and feeling so blessed to be alive today. Looking forward to so many more of these too💜K