Reflections on Time

Been looking at the changes going on in me.

Time moving forward as it will.

Getting gray and wrinkled, getting sore.

No use complaining, but still

I get to wondering how much more?  〜

Life is a series of constant adjustments and adaptations if you want to continue living.  It is as simple and as complicated as that. There really never is a return to “normal.” No returns, but if there is no forward movement then we are just stagnating which in itself is crippling and detrimental, “stuck in a rut.”

📸geralt on pixabay

The only “normal” thing to do is ask for help when you need it. Allow yourself to learn from each day's events and apply what you’ve learned to improve your situation. Doesn’t mean it’s easy or not risky for that matter. And sometimes all you can do is wait - but not too long. To avoid becoming a stagnant pool, throw a pebble of purpose into the pond to keep things moving. Soon you will be refreshed, after the rains.    Theresa M

my pic

   

A House No Longer There

We were walking in the air -

    a room used to be there.

I saw the hangers unclothed

a space without walls

all the empty halls

stories of lives untold.

📸Emslichter on pixabay

We were walking all through there -

   now just rooms in the air.

I saw all of the remains

broken heaped up mess

rooms many, now less

open to the wind and rains.

📸Tama66 on pixabay

We can see further on now -

   view wide open somehow.

I feel the stirrings of souls

visiting this place

rooms of empty space

as stories of lives unfold.

Theresa M ©2007

📸Jody Grove on Flickr

I wrote this poem years ago, back in 2007.  I'm not sure what inspired it, but nonetheless here it is. Now as I read it I think of many homes torn down from long ago, like the beloved childhood country home of my mother. And another one nearby that I lived in for eleven years and considered it my first real home where I went through a lot of changes that helped me grow. I found it recently torn down. And now as I see images of the bombed out homes in Ukraine, I can't help but weep. Thus, I dedicate this poem to Ukrainian refugees. May you find a new home of safety and comfort. God bless. 

my pic