I HAVE LINKS TO MY POETRY NOW. FEEL FREE TO CHECK THEM OUT.
I have written poems, draw pictures and short stories for review, contemplation, and sharing, here is my webpage.
http://www.authspot.com/writers/DRELL.72661/2
http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/Beautiful-Mural.233717 http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/A-Dying-Race.234943 http://www.authspot.com/Poetry/The-Peace-That-I-Seek.234949
A Mother's Farewell
Do not cry for me, death is only the other half of being born,
A path by God well orchestrated and known
It is HE that will keep me and protect from dangers not shown
For me, dare not weep Rejoice in the fact that all my worries and troubles are completely gone.
Celebrate the life that I once shared, Delight and relive the moments that showed how much I cared
Always remember that through you, each of you, I will continuously live My memory revived with each time of my love you choose to one other to give
Life is just a journey; I travelled down the road filled with turns and whines My journey is ended, God is calling me home to go, and it's my time
To take my number and claim my prize A crown so glorious for such a fruitful life
My love will always be there for you and you will always be an element of me, it is through you that my dreams will be realize That is why I ask you not to cry.
THE DEATH OF A MOTHER
It is as if time has stood still, and nothing any longer matters. All the things that I thought were so important to accomplish out of this life, at this moment I can not even remember. I think about my mom and how much she suffered and wonder if one or two things in her life would have been different, developing alternate endings, perhaps her life would have not been filled with so much sorrow. I cried for my mom this morning, and probably will continue to cry every morning after, though the physical tears may one day subside, the internal ones will never end. We learn to live with her dying but I will never accept the way she died. I wish that I could die in her arms with her to make a statement against the awful life she had lived. Someone decided that life was not good enough for her, and tormented her every day of it.
I wonder; maybe if I had only been there, maybe if I had not been so busy living my life, maybe I could have saved hers. I used to wonder why people doubt there is a God, now, at this moment, I affirm that doubt. Where is He? Why did He choose not to save her? And how after such a long life of pain and suffering, He would allow her to die in such a way?
To add insult to injury my mom did not die, right away, as of this point she is still alive, but everything I once known her to be, is dead. She exists somewhere in the midst of a chaotic shell, a human storage unit with all her hopes and dreams tucked away in some mental box, in a remote corner of her mind. She, once filled with vibrant life, now stare motionless into space. I wonder what her thoughts are, I wonder if behind her eyes, which occasionally move from side to side, up and down, if she is still there or is it just the remnants of someone who used to gloriously be. There will no longer be three hour talks on the phone, no more laughing in unison, no more swapping of sorrows, no more praying for one other; I will continue to pray for her, but she cannot return the favor. The essence of who she was is gone, final answer, gone.
I ponder the chance that she will snap out of it and interrupt death's course and return unto her previous self. Maybe if she could just hear my voice and God hear my prayer, maybe it will trigger something to start something, a revival of sort, to save her from the abyss she is held captive by. Death flee from her, God restore her, is she not your child, your creation? Is it not You that decides who lives and who dies. Stop my sorrows heal my pain, do not orphan me again, help me to accept Your choice and hide me from my loss, the lost of my mother.
WE ALLOW OURSELVES TO GET INTO SUCH A CONVENIENT STATE OF MIND THAT WE NO LONGER CARE TO THINK FOR OURSELVES. WE TAKE IN SO MUCH OF WHAT THE MEDIA AND SOCIETY FEEDS US, THAT WHEN WE EAT IT, WE CAN NOT DISCERN WHAT SUITS OUR TASTE AND WHAT DOESN`T, WHAT NEEDS SALT AND WHAT NEEDS TO BE SPUT OUT OR THROWN AWAY. WE SIT AT THE TABLE LIKE A CHILD WHO HAS ACCEPTED THE UNAGREEABLE IDEA AS FACT, THAT WE MUST EAT GREEN BEANS BECAUSE THEY CONTAIN IRON AND ARE GOOD FOR YOU, IGNORING THE FACT THAT THERE ARE A LOT OF OTHER GREEN VEGETABLE THAT ALSO TASTE GOOD. WE HAVE BECAME MERE REFLECTORS OF TRADITIONAL IDEAS, OTHER PEOPLE IDEAS. ORIGINAL IDEAS ARE WELL ON THEIR WAY TO BECOMING AN EXTINCT HUMAN SCIENCE. SOMETHING ONLY DISCUSS IN THE FUTURE THROUGH A HISTORY BOOK. WE HAVE CHOSEN TO BECOME REFLECTORS OF KNOWLEDGE BUT KNOW NOT NOR CARE FROM WHICH SOURCE IT ORGINATED. WE PRIDE OURSELVE ON BEING BETTER THAN THE FOOL WE RIDICULE FOR PASSING FABLES WE KNOW OF A CERTAINTY TO BE INCORRECT, YET WE WILLING ACCEPT WITH OPEN MINDS TO WHATEVER THE MEDIA, THE GOVERNMENT AND SOCIETY FREELY GIVES US. WE VOICE THE FACT THAT WE ARE "FREE" BUT ARE HELD CAPTIVE BY SOME OF THEABSURB OPINIONS SINCE IT WAS DEEMED THE "WORLD IS FLAT".
THE COLOR OF LIFE
LIFE IS A CANVAS, ORIGINATED BY THE INFINITE ARTIST, CREATOR OF ALL. WHO AM I TO DECIDE WHAT COLORS OF KNOWLEDGE, HE WILL CHOOSE TO APPLY TO HIS MASTERPIECE? AM I TO ACCEPT THE PLEASANT, BRIGHT COLORS THAT APPEAL TO ME, AND REJECT THE DARK, LESS DESIRABLE ONES? WE MUST UNDERSTAND THAT KNOWLEDGE IS COMPOSED OF A VARIOUS RANGE OF COLORS, SOME NOT SO FAVORABLE. IT IS THE DARK EXPERIENCES THAT ARE MORE THAN NECESSARY TO COMPLETE THE FINAL MASTERPIECE. IT IS DETERMINED THROUGH THESE DARK EXPERIENCES, NOT NECESSARILY WHO WE ARE, BUT DEFINITELY WHAT WE WILL CHOOSE TO BECOME. WE CAN NOT CONTROL THE ARTIST HAND, BUT WE DO CONTROL OUR REACTIONS TO IT. IT IS ONLY IN THE PERFECT COMBINATION OF GOOD AND BAD EXPERIENCES THAT OUR EXISTENCE WILL ONE DAY BE COMPLETE, BETTER YET, UNDERSTOOD.
IT IS TO THOSE WHO ARE CHOSEN TO UNDERSTAND THIS, THAT LIFE GIVES IT GREATEST GIFT OF ALL, THE GIFT OF WISDOM. KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT WISDOM MEANS NOTHING.
