Mirror Image by Susanne Louise

Mirror images are what we’re made of and everything has a mirror image.
What we are and what we want to be is all a reflection of what we see…a shadow is just a distorted mirror image.
A shadow that is not reality.
It’s reality distorted to a reflection.
Life is a mixture of both these images.
Sometimes we look in a mirror and see shadows instead of the reality.
The mirror image determines which is real and which is distorted In the mind.
The crazy lost souls of our hopes and dreams control the mind, so how do we trust anything we see?

 

Light

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In the very midst of my black despair
God’s hope and love shines through.
Peeking around the corner
poking through the trees
the light calls to me…
come out, come out…
we want to play with you.
Black despair tells me…
You stay put. This is where you belong!
Yet the light’s beacons are stronger.
I stumble back to the lights.
Black despair is full of lies
and I am seeking truth.
I won’t give up.
I won’t give in.
I will continue to fight.

October Blues

 

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October blues appear out of sync amidst the brilliant reds and golds
watching the leaves change as this heart remains heavy and cold.
Fiery burning colors, so bright they make my head spin
while my eyes smile at the show, my heart refuses to join in.
This time last year, snapping pictures with childlike abandon
dashing from tree to tree from river to mountain to canyon.
That child has been banished, her spirit broken and blue
running from memories that whisper; girl, it was never true.

Jeanne Marie, 2016

What’s Your Heaven?

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Mine would be working in the nursery with the babies and the little ones, rocking them all night until the sun came up…
Having my morning coffee with my children and my grandchildren, hoping that they would know by the breeze that ruffled their hair that I was close by.
Visiting my sisters, dropping in on my friends, blessing them with rain drops and rainbows. Checking in on my honey at bedtime, to tuck him in and make sure that he is doing okay.
Wandering through fields and fields and fields of flowers, while the sun played
peek-a-boo with the clouds.
Standing underneath a summer rain, dancing and swaying to the rhythm of the raindrops.
Taking naps on the clouds, sculpturing them into beautiful sights to behold.  Angels and puppies and babies, oh my!
And one thing you can be sure of, there would always be music in my ears.
I would sing and my voice would be that of an Angel. I would sing all day and nobody would tell me to be quiet.
I would be dancing in the sky whenever my loved ones looked up and I would be beside them giving spirit hugs whenever they fell down.
I would surround my loved ones with a pink bubble of love and a yellow bubble of happy.
I would cheer for their wins and comfort their pain.
I would be the butterfly that kissed their cheeks.
I would be the spring dandelion that catches their eyes.
I would just be. Me.
What’s your heaven?

Time and Distance

 

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I remember the pain I felt the first time I realized that my mom had grown older.
My heart broke that day, as I realized how frail the strongest woman in my life had become just since our last visit.
Today, at a newly turned 63, I fly to see my middle child, Jodie Lynne and she hasn’t seen me for two years.
I look good from 1800 miles away with the perfect lighting and a smart phone pose, but up close…
It will be the first time that she will realize that her mother is older. Much.
Human, not a super woman who can save the day…
Well, usually, I just mess up whom ever I’m trying to save, so that might be a good thing, LOL.
But she’s not going to like her mom’s newly acquired wrinkles.
It’s almost like the stamp of an expiration date upon my face and neck.
Not now, the wrinkles whisper, yet their very existence shouts out the reality that time is more valuable, limited.
My baby sister swears that I still look 17, so maybe Jodie Lynne will be wearing the same love shield.
I hope so, because no woman should ever have to watch her mom grow old.

P.S. We had an incredible visit. She kept telling me that I was “so little” but that’s another story.