I stumbled upon a poem I wrote sometime this summer, and I actually can't quite remember writing it. I mean, I vaguely recognize the lines, but seriously cannot remember when I wrote it, other than I know it was within the last few months. I must have written it late at night, as I typically do, saved it in MS Word and went to bed. Upon finding it, I realized how grateful I am not to be feeling that way at the moment, but still could appreciate the beauty found within it.
A friend of mine just lost her step-brother at the hands of another and in our conversation about the funeral, I remarked to her that I find funerals to be quite beautiful. Although, some are terribly tragic, as with the case of her step-brother, and some are welcomed with relief for one who has suffered long enough, the emotion and the humanity present at the funeral of a loved one is a beautiful thing. Sometimes, pain and sadness, I think can be beautiful things, because they teach us greater love... greater appreciation, perhaps, for the things that are truly of worth in our lives. So, when I read this poem, I found it sad and lonely and somewhat forsaken (evidently QUITE forsaken, since I didn't even remember it was there)... but also beautiful. Gary Allen, the country singer, sings a song entitled, "Life Aint Always Beautiful" and I think we've all had our share of feeling that way. But we also have to remember the flip side of that record... "Life IS Beautiful," and sometimes the realization of that comes from experiencing what 'at the time' feels very much less than beautiful. Crying is beautiful because it is evidence that we have the ability to feel. Misery is beautiful because without it we wouldn't know what true joy is. I don't know... you get the picture!
The second poem is one I just now wrote. The idea came to me earlier today and, of course, the second I lay my head on the pillow, the words started flowing into my mind. This poem might seem melancholy, as well, but hey... at least I'm consistent! Ha ha... Maybe this writing thing is just the way I happen to get some of those somber thoughts shaken out of my heart and head. I still liked it, though, and I hope you all do, as well.
Untitled
Hands cover her mouth
To hold back the cries
With each passing day
A piece of her dies
The fire within
That lit up the room
Was known at one time
To dispel the gloom
But shrouded she is
With sadness and grief
That douses her fire
And gives no relief
The shroud of the night
Snuffs out the day
Another day spent
Along her life’s way
Her limbs are now weary
And drooping, her eyes
But sleep does not come
Only tears to despise
by Donna van Uitert
Summer 2009
Sell Me a Dream
Does anyone know where a dream can be bought?
Mine once was a gift, but I thought of it not.
I’m afraid that I left mine alone for too long.
It seems to have tired of me and is gone.
So neglectful was I with my very own dream,
I didn't take note of its absence, it seems,
For weeks, perhaps months, maybe even a year.
I now have lost something I once held so dear.
For years it was part of my spiritual whole
Ingrained in my heart and my mind and my soul.
My constant companion… my beacon of hope
The light at the end of the tunnel… the rope
That was offered to me in the years of my youth
As guidance - direction - for seeking of truth.
And now its importance, I’m deeply aware
Becomes even greater now that it’s not there.
So where do they go… those forgotten or left?
Those dreams that have fled leaving souls so bereft?
Recycled for others to more wisely use?
Or for yet but another’s neglect and abuse?
If I found my lost dream, would it come back to stay?
I’m not sure it is mine anymore to betray.
Perhaps, it has found itself happy to be
With one who will recognize worth and will see
The value in nurturing something so rare
As a dream that’s been gifted from Heavenly care.
Perhaps, although time with my previous friend
Has come and now gone, it may not be the end.
There may yet be another dream waiting for me
To hope for and work for and ultimately
Ignite what has long become dormant and still…
Encourage my hope and my heart and my will.
It’s certain I can’t justify the request
For another gift such as the one I suppressed.
But, buy it, I will, with whatever He takes,
This Maker of dreams, for the new dream He makes.
So, once more this question to all I would ask
And hope for your help to accomplish this task.
Does anyone know where a dream can be bought?
Mine once was a gift, but I thought of it not.
by Donna van Uitert
September 13, 2009
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