Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Eighteen - Remembering Tucson

18jan2011
by doria dphrepaulezz
Tucson, Az

Notes to a Mother I do not know,
whose pain has touched a billion souls.

Loss is a four-letter word.  It is a cold ruthless, unsatisfying, one syllable word.  It wrenches the last breath from your lungs and takes you on a roller coaster ride into the very depths of your limits.  Loss takes hold of the very essence of what is left of your will, your strength and it crushes your heart.  After the silence of death, it seems that reason has not come to pass.  To love thy neighbor has not come to be. Intolerance and ignorance have not dissolved into thin air.  For a brief moment the soft winter wind speaks, she caresses our souls.  There is no end and no reason, and then suddenly love seeps in.  Faith returns.  Remember 8 January.  Remember the pain, the anguish and then begin the lifelong journey towards peace and understanding.

Love is a four-letter word that flows beyond into the land of your wildest dreams.  It takes you on the ride of your life.  Love is good and it conquers evil.  It is often all that is left when the winds of loss have surrendered and the oceans’ waves have calmed, it is Love that engulfs, that survives that continues far beyond.

Nine.  Nine years is not a life, it is a moment, we had that moment so precious and so alive and we let it go.  So sweet the memory of Nine.  Brought into this world embraced by the love a nation, a greater hope for tomorrow, a belief that life must go on.   That life is and death is not.  The pain will end and tomorrow, sweet, sweet tomorrow shall rise again.

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My Little Blue Dress

My Little Blue Dress.