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| Upon reflection, it came to pass, that I saw my life as shattered glass.. It once was whole and crystal clear, but it was damaged, year after year. First the smudges, made by tears, then the chips, shaped by tears. The troubles that resulted in too many smacks, they are the the ones that made the cracks. With abuse and mistrust, the confidence crashed, and the glass already damaged, easily smashed. A myriad of shattered hopes and dreams, taunting a failure so it seems. I look at the pieces, totally confused, the result of a childhood being abused. The fragments of happiness, somewhere lost, the splinters of heartache, just count the cost. I pick up the pieces and so I start, to assemble the glass and repair my heart. Piece by piece, it fits in place, it comes together with love as the base. At first the pieces were not all sorted, and the view of myself became distorted. I sifted the pieces and shuffled them around, until the glass became more sound. Year after year, the glass becomes clearer. with hope and fullfillment, my goal comes nearer. I cling to my beliefs and use my wits, then eventually, it happens, it all fits. The glass is now clear again, so I think, but occasionally I find a little chink. and work to repair it before it gets bigger, A task never ending, this I figure copyright L. M. Ferricks 1995 ( used with permission ) |
| This a little insight to me and some reflections on my life. My sister and I had a troubled life. We coped in different ways and I sometimes didn't agree with what she did, and she didn't agree with what I did.. But regardless, we have always stayed together. One of the ways my sister coped with our life was in writing poetry and I would like to share a few of her poems.. |
| THE WAY |
| Deep down in the caves of despair. A child abused, I know she's there. I see her now, I know her well hiding in her private hell. The ghouls and ghosts of guilt and doubt, must be quelled, to find her way out. To strive on upward, and to fight, that long dark way toward the light. Of all the things she's ever done, this struggle the most important one. She begins slowly, one step at a time, to reach the plateau, she feels is sublime. The way is hard, the steps are slow. at each crossroad, which way does she go?. The tentative choices each time get stronger, until she's free and hides no longer. The child is gone now, somewhere lost. The lessons learned have been of trust, love, support and honesty, The written word the way for me. copyright L. M. Ferricks 1995 ( used with permission ) |
| Reflections was written by my sister and dedicated to me. |
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| Sis won an award for MY WAY which she gave to me. It takes pride of honour on my wall. |
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| This page is new and I will be updating it often. Please pay another visit. |
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| A Gift From My Friend Pat Martin. Thought This also Reflects |
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