He loves Them

it pains me to see them hurt

why do they remember?

I wish they could be always safe from harm

but I know that I cannot guarantee that for their whole life

so I must trust them into the Lord

I know he will take care of them

He will watch and protect them

the poor things are not alone

they will always have Him

they will be in danger, may be hurt

may have their hearts broken

but He will always be with them

the songs we sing to them

and the prayers we say at night

soothe their troubled hearts

we want them to remember

how they feel here and remember

Heavenly Father's love for them

and I promised them that He will be there

always with them, and I know He will be.

we are trying to help them remember

it is so important they remember they are never alone

I can’t control who they will be

or who they will interact with

but I do know that the Lord will

always be with them. always.

Watch your Children

Parents, watch your children.

They are your most valuable possession,

and you don’t even own them.

You have been given the sacred task of

loving, caring and protecting them.

So why do you continue to fail?

I know you are tired, and other things in life

always seem to get in the way,

but that is no excuse.

Child abuse is something that can be

completely eradicated in our country, but

you have to stop the cycle.

Yes it’s easier to follow the footsteps

of those that may have hurt you.

But then you are just as awful,

allowing it to continue,

turning a blind eye to what your child

is living.

Eighty five percent of sexual abuse and rape cases

are from attackers you and your family know.

This means more than ever you must, as an adult,

choose your friends wisely.

Talk to your children about what to do

if someone tries anything with them.

Teach them to scream no, and that you will

never be mad, and that you will always believe them.

Tell them how much you love them,

and then show it.

At parties, at friends houses, in your own home,

watch them.

Watch their body language, their words, their reactions

to everyone.

And when you notice that your child is uncomfortable,

remove them.

I don’t care how much fun your card game is

or how lovely your afternoon lunch,

your child should come above everyone and everything else

including yourself.

Do some research, don’t pretend that because

you don’t know

that these things aren’t happening.

Because if you sit and feign ignorance,

who will protect and help your child?

Certainly not you.

And I promise you, that if your child

tells you and asks for help,

and you do nothing,

they will NEVER

trust you

again.
 

Now you know

It comes on slowly,

like falling asleep.

I sit and wait,

then it slowly creeps

in orange rolling heat, like a

red hot ocean wave,

spreading and lapping against the

deepest places and

slamming

against the bones.

 

Gnawing, biting, lashing, chasing any

hope of peace or relief

away.

Then slowly yet suddenly

it somehow gets worse.

All breath is gone,

all explanation or reason is

 lost

and there you face it,

dead on, but you never

conquer it.

 

The red hot flare freezes every fiber,

and engulfs you in ice,

where you remain frozen with a

despair so deep, it's

concrete.

and you know you will never escape its

scratching jaws.

The inside bleeding to relieve the

heat,

yet even then it comes, more waves of

icy heat

lapping against the soft places and slamming

into the bones.

 

Yelling, screaming, each cell

fights,

yet the best way for the whole to survive

is utter, deadly silence.

I face it head on and prepare myself for the

increase

and pray and scream out to the

Lord

to help me through.

 

I know He is with me,

holding me up,

calming my mind to

handle

the next one, and the next one

and the one after that.

And when I know He is

there

I begin to fold, and fear

I can't continue, but still the

rage comes, sharply, stinging

constantly

reminding me that I am 

here, now.

 

Yet threatening to end my utter

existence

with the severity of the

orange, red, blackness

eating away.

It laps at the soft places,

tears a hole to form a nasty

oozing tumor to join

 its hundred other brothers

planting their battle tents,

riding the wave to bite

and slice

and destroy more and eat away

whats left.

 

And still I can't breathe, and the

severity is so great the

orange has heated to a burning

black, fierce with rage. I keep praying for the

unconsciousness to come,

but somehow mt body is too

strong.

and so I suffer the blackness,

wide awake,

eyes bulging yet seeing

nothing.

 

The waves slap and thrash

coming, never ceasing,

never the promise of low tide.

The blackness takes over,

and I cling to

Him

and ride the waves with

blind fear, and stalwart

faith.

And somehow I'm still breathing and still

dying.

and the orange black lava keeps

melting, enveloping, pouring

over into my soul, and the

seed is nourished by the black

rot.

 

This is my pain.



Some of my poems

It felt so lonely,
who could I talk to?
Had god stopped hearing me?
No, he was there,
always listening, always protecting,
always weeping with me.
And God gave me the
courage
to escape.
He gave me the strength
I needed. He gave me
life.
He kept me from leaving
the earth, he gave me
HOPE.
He never left me,
he will always be there,
he will always listen,
he will always

heal.





We all need attention
from others
to survive.
Without it, we die.




Wearing red nail polish
screams
to the world, I am fierce,
don't mess with me,
I am one sassy lady.
It's like wearing your
personality
on ten little ends,
so everyone will know
before they talk to you.
You mean business.
Too bad my big,
curly hair
gives it all away
before anyone gets
close enough
to understand the signal
of my red nails.