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My Art Therapy Journey

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How can I wish for this part of my life to be over when so much I cling to the loss of it.  What is done is done.  A child taken too soon who nobody sees take a last breath.  No casket, no belly seen and then suddenly unfilled.  Aloneness.  Deep depths of no return.

Pray Love take this void.

Pray hate to die in waiting.

Sometimes I get tired and seeking solace isn’t very solacing.  To expect is to work.  But still, I find myself doing it, even, or especially, in the hours of greatest exhaustion. Tiredness leads to forgetfulness.  And I don’t know what forgetfulness leads to…because I forget.

 

Growing is also work, but it is usually supposedly good for you.  Growing pains.  Is there anyone that doesn’t know about those?

 

I rise and fall.  I grow and seek solace.

 

My heart has a full ache and I try to fill it with more.