the sorting, the shifting, once again.
Storage sheds filled with shattered dreams.
Of a life left behind in tortured screams.
Boxes filled with so many things…
Once held dreams aloft on wings.
One side of me wishes to set it ablaze,
to watch it burn in a hellish haze.
To erase the memories, will it bring relief?
Or simply exponentially increase my grief?
The other refuses to part even with ashes of a flower,
the one Mercy presented me in her final hour…
Sam’s scooter resides in a corner aside,
the one he never got to ride.
Pray, please pray for our strength to be vast,
As we confront our precious past.
One little trinket at a time,
playing out in a bittersweet rhyme.
Moments drift by on a breeze,
gripping, grasping, I’m on my knees…
begging for His precious power
to bring me through just one more hour.
Just.
One.
More.
Hour.
Pray for us, friends. Please.
love,
clan mac mama