Photo credits: Mother nursing infant
Eyes squinting,
squirms with disquiet
howls in concert.
~
wrapped in mother’s arms
nestles to her breast
mouth opens.
© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/06/16
Written for Haiku Horizons “Open”
Haiku Horizons: Open
Category: Tournesol dans un jardin
Instill hope
an infant is born
one or two parents
bond and sojourn
with babe in their arms
for years to come,
attention is spent
to this child’s content.
Then something snaps
this union elapse
estrangement ensues
the youth feels alone
cannot even grasp,
yet tries to remember
this schism took place
he then comprehends
and feels a disgrace
his parent’s don’t care
or want to erase
his presence forever
he’s n’er been born.
when did this all happen?
each off on their own
no one is communicating
a youth is deteriorating
and wants to give up
knows not how to cope
but then will reach out
and we’ll instill hope.
© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/05/17
Une belle surprise… – Walk so Kids Can Talk presented by BMO
Sometimes we just don’t know: A counsellor’s story, by Cheryl-Lynn – Walk so Kids Can Talk presented by BMO
What if I don’t remember?
la sénescence ne pardonne pas
La mémoire
est une faculté
qui oublie.
Senility is unforgiving.
Memory
is a faculty
that forgets.
*********
What if I don’t remember?
Every time
I don’t remember
a name, a street even a number
I do get queasy
inside my tummy.
what are my fears?
have my fair share.
driving about … anywhere
what if I lose my way out there?
I do get frightened
I’ll not come back
get lost in thought
take two wrong turns
and then I fear
I’ll lose my way…
but what about
my thoughts, my words
your face, your voice,
and all my memories?
that blasted
evil enemy
may visit me
some day …
and stay!
That shameful senility
may rob me of my dignity.
© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/05/02
Submitted for: PookyPoetry Daily Prompts – What scares you?
Kevin helps a friend being bullied – Walk so Kids Can Talk presented by BMO
Holy C Melan
Her nickname is Melan,
she is of sly, slithering species
tantalizing in her distinct bouquet
mesmerizing in her discrete array
of victims of her choosing
dripping bliss as she`s oozing
her prisoners of despair
suffer anguish in her care.
Hallowed in her divine
prowess she will define
the true painful meaning
finds her prey ever demeaning
suffering the wrought of her ability
winning casualties of her torment
sinking teeth of Ms. Melan C. Holy
whilst innocent souls lament.
© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/04/05 All Rights Reserved
Too often the powers of depression or long dreaded visits of melancholy can bring a person down. Not everyone has to be diagnosed with clinical, situational or other forms of depression to relate to these feelings of despair and I thought this poem describes the tormenting visits of this Melan C Holy baby.
Originally submitted at Stigmahurtseveryone
You are stunning!
I looked at the clock and noticed there was an hour left on my shift. It was a busy evening alright. But I like that because time passes quickly. I had done two hours of Live Chat and I was now back on the phones after my dinner break. It is odd to call our breaks anything but “breaks” because we can have lunch at 2p.m. and dinner/supper at 10 p.m. depending on the shifts we work and how we have arranged to make sure the service is adequately covered.
The phone rang…
“Hello, you’ve reach a counsellor.” I could hear faint sobbing, soft whimpering…
“Take your time, it’s okay; just take all the time you need…are you safe?”
I hear a weak “yes” and she tells me her story. She was just discharged from hospital for her eating disorder. She weighed well under 100 pounds…I winced at the thought of her wasting away and thanked the Great Spirit that she was, in fact, alive. “They fattened me up so much I can’t stand it!” she wailed.
The change for her was difficult to bear. She needed support in slowly accepting her “healthy” body. We talked a bit about what she could do to distract her thoughts and then she shared some sad stories of her past. Such sadness I choose not to share here, but this is what I wanted to remember … her fight to live even if for a brief dangerous time in her life and how she tried to become invisible…literally.
We explored her passions. She was an artist and singer/song writer. I was blessed hearing her sing briefly and for a fleeting moment, I could hear her smile…what an angelic voice…such beauty, it managed to transcend through the wires of telecommunication. She promised to try to focus on her beauty…voice, passions, art, inner and outer beauty and would call back if she felt overwhelmed.
When got I home late that night, I could not help but imagine this beautiful person and wrote a brief message I imagined sending to her:
Image source: Thestir.cafemom.com
Do you know that you are stunning?
the last few years, I could barely see you
so frail were you, hugging seemed daunting
what if I’d crushed your bones,
you were really so very tiny;
I remember seeing you back then…
the wind was blowing and I could swear
it was pushing you farther from where
I was sitting on the park bench waiting
watching, silently observing you wasting
away and praying for a miracle.
That was a while ago my friend,
now the miracle did transcend
you are beautiful just as you are.
Pity you don’t yet see that far long
but hopefully in due time
with your gifts of beauty and song
you will sing the words that rhyme
and you will finally see
what’s so clear to me.
I pray someday your insight
will see your beauty transcend
as well as in the light
of day…blessings, my dear friend.
© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/03/14
Inspired by my original post at StopTheStigma You’re Beautiful
A Grandfather’s Last Letter To His Grandkids
When James K. Flanagan passed away on September 3, 2012, he left behind something absolutely amazing. Months before, he wrote a wise letter of advice to his five grandchildren, unbeknownst to them. With permission of his daughter, Rachel Creighton, the letter he left behind was posted online. This is that letter.
Even if you didn’t know James, his words are worth reading… they’re life lessons for all of us.
Dear Ryan, Conor, Brendan, Charlie, and Mary Catherine,
My wise and thoughtful daughter Rachel urged me to write down some advice for you, the important things that I have learned about life. I am beginning this on 8 April 2012, the eve of my 72nd birthday.
1. Each one of you is a wonderful gift of God both to your family and to all the world. Remember it always, especially when the cold winds of doubt and discouragement fall upon your…
View original post 672 more words
Witness of their pain
Do you remember January 1st, 2000? I remember looking up into the sky at those fireworks, at 00:01 standing on Front Street in Toronto. Many people worldwide wondered if our computers would crash and what the future held for us. I knew I had a passion to reach out and help. In July I crossed a major threshold in my counselling career by joining Kids Help Phone. This would be my career of the new millennium! I’d won the Lottery!
Who knew, crossing that line, my life would change forever? I had joined an agency that offers a unique service to youths in “their” mode of comfort, in their style, in their time, from the comfort of their own place. I was hooked for good!
Like so many people who work at Kids Help Phone, either behind the scenes fund raising, spending tireless hours promoting this unique service or the endless hours listening, counselling, responding to on-line messages or chatting on Live-Chat…I fell in love with this amazing family who cares about reaching out to youths across this vast country, reaching out to cities, towns and more isolated regions where help and hope are often scarce.
The uniqueness is the availability, the free access and more notably the anonymity of this service. Finally a safe place for youths to reach out and not feel judged; youths, who sometimes are sharing for the first time, exploring their options and feeling a sense of empowerment because THEY are in charge of their call. Some youths may have been robbed of this privilege by abuse or neglect; here they are heard, respected and believed. As a counsellor, I do feel privileged accompanying a youth on their journey. I take the lead from the expert…the youth on the other end of the line or the other side of the screen.
Most youths who call are looking for some direction and may not know where to turn. Most do have good caring supports but don’t want to worry their family or friends. And then there are some who don’t have this…
Witness
Sometimes I hear
or read on-line
from far and near
their storyline
truths that need
and must be heard,
my role to heed
bear witness
to their pain.
I may appease
but must refrain
from judgement
and rather aim
solution focus
actively listening;
compassion’s key
and soothes gently.
they won’t divulge
they want to spare
their loved ones
for whom they care
still…
they just want
to unburden
confidentially
and safely…
feeling unlaboured
a weight off
their shoulder…
sense of reprieve
in total anonymity!
they are relieved
and finally believed!
And so I listen…
I hold their stories
gently in my heart
listen with my soul
witness with my ears
their pain I hear
catch their tears
embrace with my mind
their stories
one of a kind…
always unique
in their distinct tale
of deception
and betrayal
of violent nature
appalling misuse
of human behaviour
alas!… child abuse.
Cheryl-Lynn, Counsellor – Witness 2014/03/11
