A Life Unrepressed…#345

Image result for image of typing on my computer

Today, I feel blessed…

I have spent the last three weeks in the hospital and one in a rehab/nursing facility, four weeks..  I fell! I was transported to the hospital.  Within the one week that I was there I was diagnosed with bone cancer, severe anemia and the fall broke my back and right foot.  I am on the mend; cancer will never go away, a rare one with no cure.  The anemia will hopefully at one point change and the broke back will mend.  I have a back brace that has to be ultra tight on me, and I must wear a brace for the rest of my life.  Oh well, I still have my sense of humor!

That’s the bad news; the good is that I have mega writing time. I feel stripped of both worlds.  Only my computer gives light to my days and nights, creating reality and chalets the world of imagination.

I want to share the meaning of creating poetry.  What I see in a poem, it is an image in my mind that must have all the words come together to creates a story.  When creating a poem it becomes the center of my existence.   A writer, actually lives in two worlds, one of reality and one of make believe.  There are times when they meld together; I fear one day the latter will become my only world.  This may come with senility?  At my age, I doubt I will ever see that stage of life.

Currently the world of make believe, fiction, blogging and imagination serves me well.  It masks the pain!  My site, gives me an outlet to create in my poetry how I feel emotionally too.  The realm of imagination is one of quiet periods of reality and fiction join together to give the strength to find a reason for existence.

Peace and Love to each of you.

E.

A Life Unrepressed
Lighting surges through a war of disrespectful words, tears descending, wet.  In times of uncertainty, an unknown sadness is out of control, a smile, a gesture; or fear clings to a receptive body.  Words may not bring rest or smiles, the soul deep within knows.
There is no one that can unlock the heart, nothing that can be said or felt.  Thoughts, do not reveal or conceal, disguise the lack of sympathy, place blame and criticize.  Alienate the voice, if only for one moment feel free.  Fate, possession, strife, and life.
The genuine self, forced to obey, despite and un-regarded life blind to the hurt of others will embed hate eternally.  The knowledge of life fire and force, walking down a rough path; deep pain.  No spirit, hate has the power to control, nameless feelings that have conceded to a life unrepressed.  Speak and act so no one will know hidden damage floating down to the soul.
The hidden self, inward strife and following demands; in return, a thousand nothings, all-miraculously give power.   Hide in the depths of the soul; echo speaks of pain.  Lackluster eyes stare, glare, and the words unspoken deafening creating fear.  A bolt of tones, frightening, is piercing ears.
No feeling stirs, the heart laid plain, unaware of a life winding down, no meadows of flowers, no sun, no breeze, and the madness is elusive to all.  No feeling, no respite.  In quietness, the war of mocking words; the tears, the sadness. The thoughts of the sea, the crashing waves; soul and spirit sinking within its wet madness and always stay, stay, and stay.
Too late, love revealed itself in death, and the heart has nothing to say.  Living and moving in disguises, alien, until the end.  Life had nothing to possess, strife, identity.  Blind, uncertainty, life no fire or restlessness, a thirst for the mystery of it all, nameless feelings lived in vain.  The loss, the heart lay open for all to see, the hurt hidden twisted among the rubble of pain.  Yet, after all that, there is tomorrow.  

©2021.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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