Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

The Girl I Used To Be



She came tonight as I sat alone
The girl I used to be....
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye
And questioned reproachfully;


Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame,
all the wonderful things to do?


Where is the mansion of stately height
With all its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?


And as she spoke, I was very sad
For I wanted her pleased with me...
This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.


So gently rising I took her hand
And guided her up the stairs
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
Innocent, sweet and fair.


And I told her that these are my only gems,
and precious they are to me;
That the silken robes is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.


And my mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltered walls
For the dear ones who come and go


And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me.
And I saw the woman I am now
Pleased the girl I used to be

Author: Rowena K. Lewis
Copyright March 9, 1997

Sunday, May 25, 2008

*~Letting Go~*


A poem by Pearl Simmons

I can't protect you any more.
I can't make your hurt go away.
I tell you I love you and show you I care.
I try to help out when things don't seem fair.

But my power as a mother goes only so far.
I can't always reach the places you are.
I want to be close like we were before,
But you want to move on -- to discover what's more.

When you were a baby, I'd hold you tight,
And keep you forever within my sight.
I could satisfy your every need,
It was an easy time for us indeed.

And when you were a toddler and scraped your knee,
You'd hold out your arms and run to me.
I'd kiss where it hurt and make it feel fine.
A hug and a kiss worked every time.

I was always the one you turned to then.
I wish it could be like that again.
But now when you're sad you turn away,
And I don't know what words to say.

You're my little boy, but you're growing up fast.
I feel you slipping from my grasp.
I want to hold on, but I know it's time
For me to let go of this child of mine.

I long to protect you, to shield you from pain.
But I have to remind myself time and again,
That you have to experience life on your own,
While I stand back and leave you alone.

You're still so young, but you've already found
How kids can be mean when I'm not around.
School kids tease you and call you names.
They make fun of you and play cruel games.

I tell you not to worry, that it'll be alright
I tell you to be brave, yet I can't make things right.
I try to listen and to hold you near,
To give you solace and allay your fear.

I try to be there when the going gets tough.
Sometimes growing up can be so rough.
But I also feel proud of the person you are.
I know that you're strong and that you'll go far.

I realize it's time to start letting go.
I've taught you so much of the things that I know.
As you step forward, I'll take two steps back.
It's not easy for me, but I'll soon get the knack.

I'm letting go, but I'll never be far.
You can always reach me, wherever you are.
I watch you proudly as you start on your way.
My love goes with you as we start a new day.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

One Day



I am happy

I have *you*

Even though you're far away

I know you're out there...somewhere

And that tonight when you dream

It may not be of me

But it doesn't matter

Nothing lasts forever

And in my heart

I have two little treasures

That belong to me

And one day

We will be together

Forever

xxx

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

I do talk to you

By Jessica Soukup, 11/98



"I Do Talk To You"
I know you can't hear me....but I do talk to you.
And I hear everything you say to me too.
I hear when you laugh when I do something funny
I hear you yell "Hooray" when I try so hard
I hear you tell others how you'd never trade me for the world
Even with all the trials I came with.
I hear you thank God for what a blessing you have been given.
I hear you encourage me when I can almost do it
I hear you cry, too, when it gets a little harder
And when you ask God "Why?!" your baby
And I know you know I understand somehow.
And you know I listen when you talk to me too
But, I want you to know, mom...........
I do talk to you.

Monday, May 5, 2008

The Special Mother

by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice,
a few by social pressure and a couple by habit.
This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children.
Did you ever wonder how these mothers are chosen?
Somehow I visualize God hovering over Earth
Selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation.
As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew."
"Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia."
"Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."
Finally he passes a name to an angel and smiles. "Give her a handicapped child."
The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God.
"Could I give a handicapped child a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel."
"But does she have the patience?" asks the angel.
"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off she'll handle it."
"I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother.
You see, the child I'm going to give her has a world of it's own.
She has to make it live in her world, and that's not going to be easy."
"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you."
God smiles. "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect. She has just enough selfishness."
The angel gasps, "Selfishness? Is that a virtue?"
God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive.
Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.
She doesn't know it yet, but she is to be envied.
She will never take for granted a spoken word.
She will never consider a step ordinary.
When her child says momma for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it.
I will permit her to see clearly the things I see--ignorance, cruelty,
prejudice--and allow her to rise above them.
She will never be alone.
I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life
Because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."
"And what about her Patron Saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in the air. God smiles.
"A mirror will suffice."

I read alot of articles about children with disabilities, especially about children with Hemiplegia, like Xaynee.
I read this poem the other day and it made me cry, thinking about how difficult it was at times being the mother of a child who can't walk or talk like a normal child and how close this poem came to describe how I even lost my faith in God.
I know now that my little angel taught me so much and that nothing can come close to describing the kind of love she radiates with every smile.