One day there will be a time to die
That day will be one we must endure
The day will come when our life will try to make its great escape
When the only sound we really will be listening for
Will be the voices of those that we held dear.
Food we will not need and it will be the least on our minds.
We will come to a point when nothing more will really matter
When the noise from death drowns out all the chatter.
A calmness will either be there or it will not
It will be out of our hands as we are soon to depart
People will come visit but to ease their own pain
It will appear that, they all are just vain
They will bring with them memories
Memories of a time you once participated in
A time when life seemed very special to them
You might see clearly or things could be cloudy,
But your ears will work and be on guarded detail
You will lie there, you will come in and out of dreams
Some faces you might not recognize, some people possibly you had never seen
A mirror will no longer tell you sweet lies
The bed will be your station, and on it you will lie.
An occasion touch or two directed towards you
An offer of some water, and the smell you caught of someone’s perfume.
It will be the most impersonal time,
The most strung out, lingering time.
Who will be there to see your last breaths
Will it be strangers in uniforms or family
I hope you won’t be lonely when it comes to your end
I hope you find yourself in the middle of family and friends
I hope your death will not be long and drawn out
I hope it is peaceful and in dignity you will die.
I wish this for all.
If there is no other way to hurt someone than by your absence, then never come around. Then they won’t know your absence and won’t miss it.
Thank you Isaiah46ministries for nominating me.https://isaiah46ministries.com/
The rules of the challenge are to: 1) write something in response to the photo you are given, and 2) pick a picture of your own and nominate three people
The little pig could not contain hisself that crisp morning in July.
He and his three brothers had been busy the day before building their houses. one built his out of straw and one built his out of sticks, but this little pig built his out of bricks. He was a very smart pig. He knew that he needed proper material to build his fine house and so the big bad wolf could not blow his house in.
As the story goes,
He and his brothers tried to escape the big bad wolf. First they joined together in the house built from straw, but the wolf huffed and puffed and blew in that little house, scattering the pigs, as they ran for their lives.
Later on in the day, the three pigs joined together to eat dinner at the house of sticks. Just as they were finishing their meal, the big bad wolf struck again, blowing the house of sticks into oblivion. So once again the three pigs scattered and later met up again at the third pigs,house of bricks.
Later on as the night had set in, the three pigs were all comfortable, watching tv. There came a knock at the front door. The big bad wolf was outside waiting to come in and gobble them all up. He was patiently waiting that is when he got the ideal to dress up as a little old lady and try his luck in tricking the three pigs, into letting him come in.
As the story would go, the little pigs declared, “Not by the hair on our chinny chin chins,” and the wolf out of frustration climbed to the top of the house and decided to enter the house through the chimney. The pigs knew he would do this and had a pot of chicken broth stewing down below in the fireplace. The wolf realized too late that he was going to be cooked. Too bad for the wolf, but the pigs felt safe finally and prepared the wolf for a wonderful dinner the next day.
The picture above shows the ecstatic pig who built his house out of bricks.
Success was in preparing and using their little pig brains.
Anyone who chooses to do this challenge can tag me in their post.
The hurt is mine
It grows with each day that is absent of you
I know that it is my burden to bear.
Mine to endure, mine to keep it inside.
I feel sometimes in searching for answers to things, my heart will surely die.
Like a prisoner, I do time for things that I feel.
Things that make me feel like a human, like “real”
I understand not everything has answers for an ailing mind
But somehow I thought answers I would one day find.
If I had known all my feelings would be swept into a forbidden corner,
One that no one cares about,
One that separates me from others for life…
To get inside certain packages, one must use a knife,
My feelings were inside,
It took time to get them opened up,
But it happened, despite my unbelief.
I will never be a closed up heart again,
But that does not mean my heart will mend.
I hurt, I feel so alone with it all.
My only answer to this insane is God.
He hears my cries, comforts my excruciating tries.
He lifts me up so I can see a new and different place to feel safe.
If he could let me borrow another heart, just once
I would let it display out loud and strongly.
I would not hide it, and let it crush me.
That is what I would do.